#im not saying taylor swift wrote it but she very well could have

[allamericanb-tch]

taylor swift wrote all the young dudes, no one believed it was really her, and then she wrote the great war to prove them wrong. 

[pencil-n-pen]

YOU BEWITCH ME

꧁ ༺ ✧ ༻ ꧂

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Oh baby I am a wreck when I’m without you- I need you here to stay.

Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery

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benedict bridgerton x eldest daughter! reader

summary: Benedict Bridgerton has been the least tolerable Bridgerton since you arrival to the ton. You are a lady of respectable means, though nearly forgotten by society due to some extenuating circumstances. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stay away from him.

cw: time period typical treatment of women in society. btw when i say eldest daughter i mean SHE IS THE FIRST BORN OF HER FAMILY SHE IS NOT RELATED TO HIM NO INCEST THAT IS NASTY !!!! also no smut

a/n: i’m writhing on the floor foaming at the mouth im dying dead. my girlies from the books know that Benedict is a Tier One Yearner (tm) and im utterly obsessed with the dynamic of elizabeth bennet and fitzgerald darcy so i bring you the bridgerton version

i wrote this before i watched season two so shhhhh i didn’t steal her backstory from Kate’s i had no idea they were gonna be so similar T-T

please excuse the crazy long playlist my brain is infected

songs i listened to while writing: Somethin’ Stupid by Nancy and Frank Sinatra, Bewitched by Laufey, Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery (these fools are yearning CRAZY) Amore mio autami by Piero Piccioni, Valentine- Live at the Symphony by Laufey & The Iceland Symphony Orchestra, Someone to Say- Reprise from the Cyrano Motion Picture Soundtrack, Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John, The Way I Loved You (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift, A Lovely Night by Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone, The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns, Sebastian Comberti, and Miriam Keogh

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title taken from Bewitched by Laufey (GO LISTEN TO LAUFEY)

✧˖°.

In your short time at the ton, you have met every Bridgerton. Eloise in particular is your favorite- her determination to carve her own path despite the vice grip societal standards have on her is nothing less than refreshing and inspiring. Violet, their mother, is the most likeable of all the ones you have met. Anthony is respectable, Colin is nice, and the children behave well enough for their age. That just leaves one left.

Benedict Bridgerton is the least tolerable and easiest to dislike out of his siblings and family. His cavelier disregard for anything of true substance —besides the art he covets so dearly— grates on you. His smirk prickles your skin whenever he flashes it at you (which is, of course, much too often) and his general manner of being make you desire nothing more than to leave whatever party or ball you are at and never return.

And he, no matter how hard you try, does not seem to get the message.

"Ah," He bows slightly as you enter, "The lady doth grace us with her presence."

You give a tiny curtsey —enough to appease Portia Featherington, whom you have arrived with— and a thin smile, which drops the second she is out of earshot.

"Mr. Bridgerton," You greet, purely out of formality and however might be eavesdropping, gossip is especially rife in this town, "How... nice of you to leave the comforts of your canvas to charm us ladies at this party. I'm sure there is someone else here in attendance who would wish to speak to you more."

Indeed, there are several ladies eyeing the pair of you. To Benedict, with very obvious heart eyes, and to you, barely contained sneers.

If only you could assure them you are of no threat to their dear Benedict. Not a threat to any gentleman well and truly looking for a wife, to speak plainly.

"But who would entertain you? It must be difficult, being here, so far away from your friends and family in..." He trails off, leaning in to you expectantly.

"Cheltenham," You respond, smile paper-thin.

"Cheltenham," He nods. "I hear they have the most magnificent gardens. We do have some impressive ones here in London, but we are not quite known for them."

"Oh, yes. You must be quite familiar with these gardens by now. I must suppose this is our third time having this exact conversation."

There. Right there, his smirk almost falters. As usual, your sharp-tongue and quick-wit catches him off-guard. It is the easiest way to disarm a one Benedict Bridgerton long enough to make a quick escape.

Except this party is rather boring (even though you have just arrived) and well. With almost no chance of possible suitors approaching you and your usual preference of lingering on the fringes of parties and analyzing what happens in them, there is little better to do than subject Benedict to whatever mood you are in.

"You'll forgive me," he affirms, "It is hard to find topics of conversation when one's partner is adamant on not continuing past formalities."

The usual flame begins to spark in your chest. "Oh? Then let us continue, if that's what you desire. I had believed you would want to save your best conversation for the ladies who are much more... diverting."

"My, my," He tilts his head, smirk widening. "Do you consider yourself plain?"

"I consider myself un-agreeable," You remark, words rolling so easily off your tongue. Something about arguing with Benedict specifically always makes your words easier to find, easier to say. "I think you will find that most, if not all, of the gentlemen here agree. Even Lady Whistledown writes of my abilities to repel any and all suitors."

"So I have heard," Nearly in sync, you both pluck glasses of wine off a passing tray, "I do worry, my dear Lady. You sound almost proud of this feat."

"I am. I have worked tirelessly for the title."

He takes a sip of his wine. "I recall several suitors calling upon you back when you first arrived, at the start of this season."

"Ah yes, well," You take a sip of your own, "Nothing makes a woman think of marriage like being fought over like a shiny new toy."

Benedict chuckles, looking down at his glass and then back at you. "I see now why you and my sister get along so well."

"I believe that was evident from the moment we met. Not just anyone deserves the right of befriending Eloise Bridgerton."

"Ah! There we go," He raises his glass as if toasting. "Something we both can agree on."

The conversation lulls into silence, neither of you bothering to start it up again. You merely stand, an appropriate distance apart, and watch. Benedict, likely watching his brother, who has taken to the dance floor, and you, watching a young lady who bears a rather striking resemblance to your one of your sisters.

A stab of homesickness plunges deep into your chest, so sharp and so quick you almost suck in an audible gasp. You haven’t seen your sisters in quite some time. Each of them married and in love and happy- something you worked so, so hard to achieve.

Even if it meant you yourself are likely to become a spinster.

Benedict notices your momentary grief. He follows your eyeline, and when he speaks next, it is surprisingly soft.

“Do you miss your sisters?”

You sip your wine, at the same time using the glass to cover the slight shine of tears that has risen in your eyes and to take a moment to gather your words.

“Do you miss Daphne?”

“Of course I do,” His voice is firm, almost vehement. “But I gather that the bond between sisters is different than sisters and brothers.”

The wine begins to settle in your stomach, rich and heavy.

“It is,” You say, nearly a whisper, “My sisters and I were all very close. I miss them a great deal.”

You allow your words time to hang in the air before continuing. “But they are all married now, and they are happy. Most of them have children of their own. They’ve all gotten fine lives for themselves.”

Benedict makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you turning to stare at him.

“You are the eldest, yes?” He asks, something you can’t identify in his eyes.

“I am.”

“And you have not yet married,” He continues, “I would think that the eldest would get married first, and her sisters would follow her lead.”

You stare down at your gloves. This topic of conversation has come up several times over the course of your stay —Especially because you’re staying with the Featherington’s, being old family friends of your father, and Portia does love a good piece of gossip— and it never gets easier.

“My mother died before any of us entered society. I was raised by our governess, and my sisters were raised by me. Our father has… little interest in the affairs of match-making and courtship and everything it is young ladies get up to.”

Benedict is silent while you speak, eyeing you curiously.

“And my mother had always spoken of how she wished for her daughters to marry for love. And with her gone, well,” You swallow harshly over the lump in your throat, “Somebody had to ensure that came true. How could I prepare my sisters for society and guide them to their matches if I was busy and married?”

He doesn’t respond for several long moments. When he does, there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I had not considered you so selfless.” He admits, eyes flicking over your face. “I must say, I am quite surprised. So many layers to the ton’s most infamous suitor-fighter.”

And just like that, all the air seems to return to the room, and whatever momentary tension was there leaves, and you remember that you are speaking to Benedict Bridgerton.

You give him another fake smile. “We can’t all be so one-dimensional, Benedict.”

—

You’re not sure how you have found yourself a seat at the Bridgerton dinner table.

Of course, you are not surprised at all to have found yourself at dinner with the Bridgerton’s. Eloise is always insisting you come to dinner— the dowager Bridgerton has heard of her pleas so often that they’ve almost come to save you a seat- you are there at least once a week.

The surprise falls in the matter of who is sitting next to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You say, voice just loud enough for him to hear, “Your wine glass is a bit close to mine, don’t you think?”

The smile he sends you —that you can barely see from the corner of your eye— is sharp and full of teeth.

“Nonsense. I’ve found that a little proximity is good for things every now and then.”

“Every now and then,” You repeat, voice firm, “Somehow I find myself seeing you more and more.”

“Oh, surely there are worse fates.”

“Hardly.”

“Tell me- are you this sharp-tongued with all whom you meet?”

“Only the ones that deserve it.”

He raises his wine glass to his lips. “And what have I done to deserve such cruel wit?”

“Oh, don’t play ignorant to your intentionally aggravating behaviors.”

Benedict rests a hand over his chest in mock pain. “You wound me. Truly.”

The sip of wine you take is a little too large to be considered a sip. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“Tell me,” He tosses back a generous gulp of wine, “Were you born this stubborn and sarcastic or did it come naturally over time?”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think, “I suppose I’d consider myself that of a fine cheddar. Only tasting sharper with time.”

Benedict laughs, a private thing, clearly already tipsy. “That doesn’t even answer my question.”

“Why do you even want to know?”

“I want to know what your sisters endured during their childhoods. My word. I can only imagine why you haven’t had any suitors since arriving here.”

Fear races up your spine at his words, a sudden a rather unwelcome reminder of why your father sent you to London.

“Yes, well,” You answer, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands sweating in your gloves, “They should know there is no accounting for someone’s personality.”

He’s silent for a few moments. It makes you nervous his silence, so you turn your head, just a little, to see what expression he’s wearing.

Only when you turn, he’s already staring. Not even the half-head turn that you’ve done. He’s staring. Right at you.

His brows are furrowed, little creases on the skin in between them, and his eyes are bright and searching.

“Are you alright?”

You have been in London for two months, one week, and three days.

Benedict Bridgerton is the first person to ask if you’re okay.

“Fine,” You say, smoothing out your features with force, “Wine does not always agree with me.”

He doesn’t believe you. But he doesn’t pry, either.

“Shall you be giving the wine a thorough lecture, then?”

“Wine does not have ears. A lecture would be wasted on it,” You pause, “However, if we can track down the winemaker…”

Your words have their desired effect. He laughs, this time a little louder than something just for the two of you to share, garnering a couple glances from Anthony and Eloise, so you sip your wine and pretend you did not just make Benedict laugh. A real laugh, not the fake one he does when you’re arguing.

You suppose there are worse ways spend an evening.

—

It is an almost pleasant day in London. Almost being that the temperatures are fair, but the weather overcast.

You find garden parties the most interesting of all the parties to be had by the high society families because it means you get to escape to the gardens. Of course, there are others milling about in them, but they offer much more privacy than a ballroom and have the added bonus of reminding you of your home in Cheltenham.

“What is it liked to be overlooked by society?” Eloise asks, ever lacking decorum. It is, honestly, refreshing. She does not beat around the bush or sugar-coat her words.

You think on her words before responding, taking the time instead to eye some rather nice roses. “Honestly? It is not as terrible as you might think. Everybody always says that spinsterhood is a fate worse than death, but if it’s anything like this, I can’t think it to be that painful.”

She nods, thinking over your words. “But didn’t you want to marry? You must be lonely.”

You elbow her side as you walk, arms entwined. “How could I ever be lonely with such incorrigible friends?”

You both laugh, raucous and cackling and nothing close to lady-like.

“Is there a pack of hyenas roving about the gardens?”

You hear the rush of footsteps swishing across the grass, then feel the brush of fabric on your arm.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You sigh, cutting him a glare, “What are you doing here?”

He loops his arm through yours, the same way that Eloise has done to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” You warn, tone sharp

“Oh relax,” His smirk is in high form, today, “I am protecting you ladies from those hyenas. We haven’t found them yet, have we? It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Eloise,” You pause, craning your neck about the garden, “Do you see a gentleman around here?”

Eloise snickers behind her glove. “I can’t say that I can see any.”

Benedict rolls his eyes. “Humor me, then.”

You continue walking. “I suppose we will. It’s good to engage in charity, dear Eloise. You must not think yourself above those less fortunate.”

He scoffs. “Since when do you consider yourself charitable?”

You flap your fan a few times. “I have a great many qualities. Do not fault me because you are so caught up in yourself to notice anything other than what you want.”

His fingers flex. “And what is it you think I want to see?”

You shrug plainly. “Me as I present myself. Unbecoming and, probably by the standards here, vile.”

“No.” He says, the word more of a sound, sort of ripped from his chest.

You look at him in alarm and he meets your gaze evenly. “You are a great many things- stubborn and irritating, but never vile.”

His words and the vehemence in which he said that stun you into silence. You’d never imagined Benedict, of all people, to take such an issue with that word. Vile. You’ve been called vile often over the course of your life, by mothers and suitors and other debutants and even on occasion your father. Its meaning has been mostly lost on you, the cruel nature in which it is said no longer barbed and painful. It is just a word, like every other word.

He’s staring at you, an almost pained expression on your face, so you figure you should say something.

“I see,” Eloise’s arm tightens on yours, “I suppose I should take your words to heart. I am glad to know that there is at least one gentleman who does not think me a vile woman.”

Benedict smiles, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes for a moment, something you don’t manage to place before it is gone.

“Ah! You called me a gentleman. Have I won you over?”

“For now, at least.”

—

You miss dancing.

Since you are the most un-agreeable lady in the Ton, you are seldom asked to dance, and since a partner is a requirement for the activity, you tend to spend most parties on the fringes, either talking with Eloise or merely observing.

Or arguing with Benedict. But you’ve found it a little harder to truly poke at him with any real malice or criticism since he defended your character so passionately that day in the gardens.

“You’re watching the dancers like they personally offended you.”

He always finds you at parties. Actually, he always finds you no matter where you are.

You gaze at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m envious. Pay me no mind.”

He snorts. “Envious of the dancers? Whatever for?”

“I miss dancing. The only problem with scaring away all your suitors is that you also scare away all of your potential dance partners.”

You both observe them quietly for several moments, eyes tracking the flowing and sweeping movements.

“Do you,” he pauses, clears his throat when his voice cracks over the last syllable, “Like to dance?”

“Yes,” You admit, a tad embarrassed, “I always have. Most of society’s expectations for women are quite sedentary or still. But dancing is… its movement and passion. And sometimes, when your partner is agreeable and the music fair, it can almost feel like you’re not dancing at all. That there is no one else there, just the two of you.”

Your face heats, the realization that you’ve been talking so long about something you really do care about striking you. “Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t actually experienced that last bit.”

He inclines his head. “Where did you hear about it?”

“From my mother, as she regaled me on the day she met my father.”

You both stand, shoulder to not-shoulder, more like mid-upper arm, observing the spins and steps of the pairs of dancers.

“Would you dance with me?”

You snap your head to him. “Dance?”

“Yes,” He says, voice a little breathless. “I have yet to do my duty dance for the evening and it would be unfair to keep a lady from the dance floor.”

He extends a hand. “Especially if she longs for it.”

You stare down at his hand. “People will talk of you dancing with me. I would not want to bring reproach—“

“Dance with me,” He says again. “Please.”

Who are you to deny such an earnest request?

He marks a spot on your dance card- your first and only of the night.

As the next song comes a close, he leads you onto the the dance floor, and for the first time in awhile, you feel… conscious, of the eyes on you.

Everybody always watches for the who the Bridgerton’s dance with. Except now Anthony has Kate, and he is much less interesting than the second Bridgerton brother taking a partner to dance. Especially a partner with the reputation you have.

The song begins, and you glide your way through the steps.

“You didn’t have to dance with me. I’m sure we’ll—“ you pause, spinning, “—appear in Lady Whistledown’s review in the morning.”

He grasps your hand tightly. “Let them talk. I have never been the brother anyone is well and truly worried about.”

You begin to feel more and more alive and the song plays on. Movement— real, fluid, passionate movement thrums in your veins, the music jumping through the air.

But all good things must come to end.

Eventually, the music comes to a close, and you must curtsy, and allow Benedict to leave the dancefloor.

“You dance well,” He praises, eyes alight, “I see why you miss dancing. You glide like a swan.”

The smile that tugs at your lips is entirely involuntary. “You are too kind. I do not dance that well. I just have a passion for it.”

He raises a brow. “Oh come now, accept the compliment.”

You shake your head, chuckling a breathy laugh. “Then I must pay you one in return. Not once did you step on my toes or lose your way. Color me impressed.”

His face lights up, joy evident. “And the night grows better! A compliment from our dear spinster.”

“I have always proclaimed myself a fair judge, have I not?”

Benedict’s expression is alight with amusement. “You have. But that doesn’t mean I’ve been all that inclined to believe you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Well, there’s no accounting for opinions, even if they are wrong.”

“I thought opinions above being right or wrong.”

“Only sometimes.”

Benedict looks all together too pleased with himself as he gazes at you, lips quirked up and cheeks still a little flushed from the dance.

He extends a hand.

“Care for another dance?”

You smile down at your gloves. “I couldn’t possibly. Dancing with me once could be forgiven, but twice? What would your mother think?”

“My mother happens to like you a great deal,” He says smoothly, “And I think I might enjoy dancing with somebody who actually dances.”

How could you refuse?

You place your hand in his.

“I’d be delighted.”

—

As has become a particular habit of yours recently, you’re lying away, staring at your ceiling and pondering Benedict’s actions.

Why did he ask you to dance? Why did he allow you the joy of two dances?

Why did he care?

Why can’t you stop thinking about it?

In your heart, and probably your mind, you know why. The warmth of his hands through the gloves and the dappling of the candlelight on his flushed cheeks is stuck fast in your mind for the exact same reason you’ve hated him since the moment you met:

You love him.

You didn’t love him when you met, but you know yourself. You know he is the type of man that you would love- the type that would break your heart because he is charming and kind, and he will never choose you. And why should he? You’re sharp and sarcastic and nowhere near the shining qualities and perfection of this season’s diamond- any of the season’s diamonds, really. You’re a spinster in the making with an attitude and standards.

It is a most unfortunate combination. For your upbringing to have made you so hard to love and have also instilled such a deep want for love and romance in your heart. You know you were not made for it, not for the kind your father sent you to London to get.

He wants you married to whoever will take you- only problem is, now no one will. Especially not Benedict.

But… could he?

You turn over in bed, smushing your face into the pillow.

No, you tell yourself, Don’t go down that road. Don’t even think about it.

You barely sleep a wink, that night.

—

The morning brings the post, and the post brings a letter from your father.

Not even Portia Featherington’s threats of grounding stop you from racing into a carriage to Bridgerton house.

You enter through the back entrance and upon seeing your disheveled appearance and tear stricken face, a servant rushes inside to fetch Eloise immediately.

The girl herself looks harried and concerned as she meets you in the back garden, a million questions etched in her face and streaming out of her mouth.

“My father,” You half-sob, “Has found me a husband. Baron Dunsmoor. He is— he’s horrible. He has had two previous wives, and then all died in childbirth. He is disgusting and revolting and treats women like, like cows.”

Eloise’s expression crumples. “What is, what can be done?”

You shake your head, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth. “It is too late. He’s ordered me to come home at once so the proposal can be made official.”

The younger Bridgerton girl grasps your shoulders. “What if you were to get a proposal? Here? Now?”

“Eloise!” You say, “Who are we going to find to marry me before tomorrow?”

Her eyes shine when she answers. “My brother. Benedict.”

The cruel, twisting stab to your gut that hearing his name, now, here, gives you is nothing short of agonizing.

If you were not crying before, you certainly are now.

“How could you say that?” You ask, breath hard and stuck in your throat, “He would— He will never marry me. That is, it’s cruel to even suggest that.”

“No, no I promise, he loves you, I am sure of it—“

“Eloise, please do not—“

“He has painted you, drawn you, I swear he must have illustrated your likeness more than—“

“Eloise!” You snap, patience thin and tears thick, “That is enough. Benedict will not marry me. I cannot—“

“Marry me.”

You snap your head up at the sound of a familar, rich voice, eyes meeting Benedict’s as he marches over to you eyebrows drawn tight and lips set.

He looks… distraught. Utterly wrecked.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You gasp, “You—“

“Benedict. Please. You never call me Benedict.”

His words come out like a dying man’s wish, despite you being the one stuck in a hopeless situation.

“Benedict,” You start, “I cannot marry you.”

“Why not?” He snaps, words and expression immediately becoming sharp and confused, “You would rather live a life with that wretched man?”

“Of course not,” You retort, “But it’s not that simple—“

“Yes it is!” He cries, throwing his hands up and taking another step towards you, “Tell me, honestly, if you wrote to your father and told him I had proposed and you had accepted, would he not choose my proposal over the baron’s?”

“Yes, but—“

“But what?”

“But I cannot accept!” You shout, aware of Eloise standing only a few feet away and servants no dough crowding to watch from the door, “I can endure a loveless marriage to a loveless man. I could not endure a loveless marriage to a man that I love.”

Benedict sucks in a gasp, and you refuse to meet his gaze. How can you, after saying that?

Birds chirp overhead. There is the distance noise of carriages moving about in London. Somewhere distant, a dog barks.

“Do you truly think our marriage would be loveless?” He says, voice scraped raw and quiet, “How could you not know the depth of my affection for you?”

You look up, taking a half step forwards, searching his face for any hint of a lie, for deception.

You find open, painful, vulnerable honesty.

“What reason would I have to believe that I had a chance?” You ask, voice hushed, “All we do is argue. I have been cast out by society and you are a Bridgerton.”

He reaches forwards, grasps your hands in his. Your breath hitches.

Neither of you are wearing gloves.

“I am so in love with you it makes my chest hurt and my bones ache. Eloise was right. I have drawn you hundreds of times because there is just so much inside of me and it has nowhere to go,”

His lips quirk up a little, almost sad, “I loved it when we argued, because it meant you looked at me. It meant I held your attention. And you are remarkably smart and so, so much more wonderful than you give yourself credit for. I would sooner burn everything I’ve ever drawn than let you marry that man, than let you believe that you can never marry for love.”

He squeezes your hands once.

“Please, marry me.”

Your eyes are burning with a fresh wave of tears, but there’s something warm and alive unfurling and beating in your chest, something that glows with every word he says.

You laugh a strange noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

“Yes,” You gasp, your smile practically splitting your face in two, “Yes. I will marry you.”

Benedict’s smiling too, the both of you looking like fools, smiling and laughing in his garden.

Eventually, he turns to Eloise. “You’d better go tell mother she has another wedding to plan.”

Eloise scoffs. “Oh, please. She’s been working on this one for ages. I’m absolutely positive everybody knew this was only a matter of time except the two of you.”

He looks baffled, and you note in the back of your mind that he’s still holding your hands, “What? I wasn’t that obvious.”

“You danced with her. Twice. In a row.”

“So?”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “You don’t dance with anybody, especially more than once. You’ve been making love eyes at each other over verbal spars for ages. It’s been disgusting to watch.”

You snort. “Then look away.”

“Absolutely not. You insult my brother too well.”

You laugh again, then look back to Benedict.

“My father, and the Baron—“

“I will write to him today,” he soothes, “And have the letter sent with the fastest post carrier. You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone else have you.”

Your cheeks heat. “I’m not your wife yet.”

He shrugs. “Only a matter of time, my love.”

Eloise retches in the background, and Portia will be an absolute nightmare to deal with when you get back, and part of you still wonders if Benedict is serious, but none of that seems to matter.

Not with how he’s looking at you now. Not with your hands in his.

You’re really looking forward to that first kiss.

✧˖°.

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taglist: @mythical-goth @sfotiegiuls @shoyooss @booknerdlife @gratuitous-and-superfluous @got-the-cheese-touch @amysfav @pear-1206 @purplefluffycows @secretisme4 @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @s0mewhereweaknessis0urstrength @twistedkisses @vcnillafairy @labellapeaky @fxiryeon @eddiiiieeee @kalanthra @soniiyi @famouslywaiting @deeninadream @moschinocherries @monaskydancer @bobo-bush @agreeeeeeeeeee @tardis--tea--time

[bueckers-sturniolo]

i have literally been begging for someone to write a paige fic based on “Slut!” by TS like the parts that’s like “if i’m all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us” where reader is famous and gets like hated on for being a “slut” 💁‍♀️💁‍♀️

“slut!”

paige bueckers x female!reader

a/n: hi guys!!! sorry it took me so long to edit this and actually post it. i don’t have much to say but THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON THE ALCHEMY!!! i promise part 2 is coming soon!!! ps: this may suck a little but i wrote it in an hour and a half so im sorry!!! also, this hasnt been proofread bc its 6 am and i havent slept! hope u somewhat enjoy!!! love uuuu!

warnings: naur, just swearing :)

word count: somewhere around 1k-ish

-

got love-struck, went straight to my head. got lovesick all over my bed. love to think you’ll never forget. we’ll pray the price, i guess.

you had been dating paige for 5 months, now. she was the best person you had ever met, and an even better lover than you could have ever imagined. but, being in the public eye isn’t necessarily ideal, especially when you’re queer. paige was a basketball player at uconn, and you had been famous for a few years. you had been famous before you knew paige, and even before paige was famous. it’s awesome, and you love it. the lifestyle can be very rewarding and enjoyable.

but, being ‘famous’ comes with its faults. as most things do. over the years, you had developed this sort of…. title. this title being that you are some kind of insane serial-dater. it was pretty ridiculous. of course, paige loved you for you, and didn’t really give a fuck as to what people had to say about you. but, it’s still obviously hurtful, and paige gets that.

present day, the epsy’s were coming up. this is something that meant a lot to your girlfriend. and, quite frankly, you’d do anything to make her happy.

until that thing was going as her date (or +1) to the epsy’s. not that you didn’t want to, not that it was because you were gay. but, because you knew how much this could mess with both of your careers. you didn’t really care about your own, cause people are gonna talk about you regardless, but paige’s social presence made it hard to just come out and do whatever you guys want.

“i mean, i’d just really want you there. we can like…. coincide outfits ‘n shit.” paige says, looking over at you, eating a bite of her cereal.

“yeah, p. i understand.” you say, sighing. you look down at your hands, acting like you were paying attention to anything to distract her (and yourself) from the fact that you really just do not know how it would go, and that fact is stressful in itself.

“baby, if you don’t want to go, it’s fine. im just saying it would be cool.” she says, and you meet her eyes again.

you know she’s right. it would be really fuckin’ cool. but like, at the same time, you really didn’t want to have to receive all of the texts from your publisher of news articles with pictures of you and paige where they essentially just put your name in bold letters then talk about how much of a slut you are for dating 4 people in your approximate 5 years of being famous.

yes, it may seem like a lot. but, also, most of these relationships only lasted a few months. you never necessarily wanted them to go public, but, they almost always did. that’s why you and paige took extra precautions.

obviously, one day, you wanted to tell people about you and paige. but, you wanted it to be when you guys had atleast made it past the new relationship stage.

but, if im all dressed up, they might as well be lookin’ at us. and if they call me a ‘slut,’ you know, it might be worth it for once. and if im gonna be drunk, i might as well be drunk in love.

you couldn’t help but give in. there was exactly a week before the epsy’s, and even though you’d kept telling paige you really didn’t think going was a good idea, you felt so bad for saying it that you randomly changed your mind.

“p, come here.” you say, calling from the couch in your living room. she walked in the room, hands on her hips, sleeves rolled up. she was loading the dishwasher for you, as the ‘gentleman’ she was (in a world of boys, (s)he’s a gentleman.)

“yes, baby? what’s wrong?” she says, walking toward you and sitting down, resting an arm on the back of the couch behind your head. “i wanna go with you, p. ill go with you to the awards.” as you say this, you fiddle with the hem of her basketball shorts.

“you wanna go with me? seriously?” she perks up. her whole face immediately lights up. this was the reason you were doing it. that reaction right there.“yes, love. i want to go with you.” she grabs your chin, pulling your face closer to her and gently pressing a kiss to your temple.

“you know, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to. i know you don’t want to read about all of the stupid shit men online say about you. they don’t even know you and it’s so infuriating that they think they can talk about my baby like that. my sweet, sweet girl...” she rubs your side, kissing your temple gently a few more times while babbling a few more sweet names in your ear.

“i know, p. but, i also know i don’t owe anyone shit, and if i want to go out in public with you, i shouldnt be scared. i mean- it’s just…. like, i don’t want to keep hiding us because of the fact that people always have some stupid shit to say. you know, if they call me a whore or if they call me a slut, it might be worth it. it may just be worth it this once.” she smiles ear to ear as you say this. seconds after this, she tackles you onto the couch, pecking all over your face as she tickles your sides.

half asleep, takin’ your time in the tangerine neon lights. this is luxury. you’re not saying you’re in love with me, but, you’re goin’ to. half awake, takin’ your chance, it’s a big mistake. i said, ‘it might blow up in your pretty face.’ im not sayin’ do it anyway, but you’re going to.

the night finally arrives. you guys are both getting your hair done. paige is wearing a lilac suit, and she looks ridiculously attractive. you were wearing a white dress with lilac heels, to coincide with her.

you guys get to the carpet, and it feels so surreal. you guys are finally out together and it’s just fucking insane. she does a few interviews, and they even ask you for your own pictures (even though you’re not an athlete)

the awards themselves are good, paige presents and even changes suits. she looks fuckin’ phenomenal.

but, then the after-party comes. the lights are tangerine and kinda dim, everyone’s drunk, and some people are even outside in a swimming pool. (???)

you had been to award shows yourself, but this was so cool. paige grabs you guys drinks throughout the night, careful not to get too wasted, but enough to get a little tipsy. by the end of the afterparty, so many pictures of you guys had been taken you felt like it was kinda too hard to hide your relationship from the world anymore.

while this wasn’t the main goal of tonight whatsoever, paige decided it was time to make your relationship social media official. she thought you deserved to be loved out loud, and honestly she couldn’t give any less of a fuck who said what. you loved her. she loved you. that’s all that mattered.

@paigebueckers

liked by kamoreaarnold and others

paigebueckers: Cats out of the bag I guess 🐈👜

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kamoreaarnold: Photo creds on slide 3

> paigebueckers: @kamoraarnold Best photographer 🙌

yourusername: wow she’s cute who is that

> paigebueckers: @/yourusername Idiot

>> yourusername: @/paigebueckers 😁

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[sturniolo-mairead]

"Slut!"

LetsTripTour!MattSturniolo x Popstar!Reader

a/n: in this fic i dont use y/n, i may in some future fics if i cant come up with a name 😭🙏🏻 Hope you guys enjoy, its my first fic!

in which Matt Sturniolo announces his girlfriend of 6 months. Presley Evans, global popstar! Nick and Chris are shocked because they didnt even know. Shes on tour down the road from the triplets' tour. he has the camera footage that would be on the big screen of her stage. They decide to watch her tour on their screen and they figure out she wrote quite a few songs about him! they soon meet up at matts hotel room later on.

warnings: use of the word slut, like a lot 😭🙏🏻

Matts pov:

"Next question, 'does anyone have girlfriends or in nicks case a boyfriend' Well i'm very much single" my brother said. Shit. I've had a secret girlfriend for 6 months now. We have talked about going public. She said shes okay with it. It's just difficult because shes a global superstar! It's been stressing me out. I think i'm just gonna say it. I'll tell everyone here.

Presley pov:

Im about to go on stage. I talked to matt last night about going public with our relationship. It's kind of getting exhausting having to sneak around. I've been a target for slut shaming because of how many guys ive dated, but i got into the industry when i was 15! It's not my fault. My managers say it's good for 'traction' or whatever. I sent matt the camera footage that would be on the big screen of the stage. Im performing in a stadium tonight, it's my all stadium tour. I just hope he tells his crowd, thats coincidentally, down the road from the stadium. He could connect his phone to the screen behind him and his brothers and show them my show, but i don't know if he will. I understand his anxiety thats going to come with going public, especially him now going to have paparazzi following him and his brothers everywhere, and me. He's gonna be more worried about me than he's ever been before because of his female fan base, they'll send me death threats and hate, more than i normally get. It's not like I'm not used to it though. I just hope he does whats right for himself and how he's feeling. I don't want him to feel pressured to tell everyone because I am ready to.

Matts pov:

"Nah i'm still single, sadly." chris said. I stayed silent. I could just spit it out. "Matt? we all know your single" chris teased. "actually.. I do have a girlfriend." i spat out. "WHAT?" nick said, he was as shocked as he should be. "yeah, we've been talking and we think we want to go public. She is a celebrity," i went on, "her name is Presley, Presley Evans." The crowd went wild. "SO ALL THOSE TIMES IVE SCREAMED HER SONGS IN THE CAR YOU DIDNT THINK TO TELL ME YOU WERE DATING HER?!" I laughed, "i guess not, I have camera footage thats om the big screen of her tour thats going on right now, i could put it on?" i suggested.

Presley pov:

"Presley! Time to go in 5!" one of my managers told me. "Okay! coming!" i say, Matt told me he'd text me if he told everyone, and he hasnt texted me. Im starting to lose hope when, Ding! i rush to check my phone. Twitter. Not matt.

'Matt Sturniolo comes out saying hes dating global superstar Presley Evans!'

holy shit. he did it. I laugh and squeal as i jump in my bedazzled heel boots. "Presley? what happened? are you okay?" my manager asks. "HE DID IT!! HE TOLD EVERYONE!!" i scream and jump around and laugh. "Presley, are you serious?!" my manager says, she seems angry? "whats wrong?" "Presley! this could be so bad! you'll become a lightning rod for slut shaming!! His fan base is mostly girls, they'll be angry! You could be in danger! You didn't even ask me if it's a good idea!" My manager yelled. I hate to say it, she was right. I probably should've informed her i would do this. But she is not allowed to shit on my relationship. I wanted it to go public. "Listen, Trina. This is my relationship. I know where you're coming from, a place of worry. But i know i've been through worse. You were with me since i was 15, you know how strong i am. I appreciate the worry, but let me do my thing. Ive been hiding my relationship for 6 months. Putting Matt in the shadows. Im done doing that. I love him. Thats never going to change. Let me do things- no. Let me and Matt do things our way. Now i have to get to the stage. Thanks for the input." I finished. I walked away, I had on my white bedazzled heel-boots with my skirt that was tied on one side up, showing my whole thigh. the rest barley covered anything which was good because i had on a white bodysuit under. I had on a corset top. It was all white, the whole outfit. I looked amazing, i checked myself out as i walked past a mirror. I heard music start up, somebody came and handed me my mic as i walked toward the piece of my stage that moved up and down. I stood in the center preparing to go on.

Matt pov

I put on her show on the screen. I hear music start. Just in time. Everyone's eyes are glued to the screen. I look around, nobody recognized the opening notes.? I didn't either. As far as i know, theres no songs about me. As far as i know.

"Flamingo pink"

I really don't recognize this song, i feel terrible that i don't.

"sunrise boulevard, clink clink. being this young is art."

"who do you guys think this song is about?" nick asked. I know of all her exes. They all treated her like shit. I am determined to be different. I think this is a love song? she has some love songs, then breakup songs after because they put her through hell. I'd never do that, I will never.

"Being this young is art Aquamarine Moonlit swimming pool"

This could be anything, we're both still very young. Shes 20, Im 19. I turn 20 soon.

"What if all I need is you?"

So it is a love song.. i wonder which ex it's about? Maybe Johnny Orlando? (no hate to Johnny Orlando fans just needed an ex lmfao 😭) We all just stand and admire her. She looks gorgeous. Fucking beautiful, How do you fumble her? Shes like a goddess. "Maybe this songs about you lover boy" Chris says, jesus christ i hate that fucking nickname. "shut the fuck up chris! And i don't know, i don't know if she has songs about me" I say, I wish she had written a song about me.

"Everyone wants him,That was my crime The wrong place at the right time. And I break down, then he's pullin' me in. In a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

she always refers to me as a gentleman, she always says everyone wants me too.. "HOLY SHIT!" I scream, i didn't mean to, i just did. "What?!" nick said, "THIS SONGS ABOUT ME!!" "BITCH WHAT?!" "oh my god" i say.

Presley pov

I open with "slut!", a song about matt. I never tell him any songs a write about him because, well, theres a lot. I don't wanna seem creepy, but constantly writing songs about one person could be taken that way. I hope he catches on though. I always say everyone wants him and I always call him a gentleman. "And if they call me a slut. You know it might be worth it for once. And if I'm gonna be drunk. Might as well be drunk in love" I finish the song. I don't know what matts thinking, i don't even know if he was watching, i put on my best show nonetheless, just in case he was. I didn't want to disappoint him. Should i tell the crowd the songs about him? Maybe i will. "Hello! and welcome to the "Slut!" tour!"

A/N

cliffhanger! Okay so i've had this idea for a long while now i've just never gone through with writing it but i finally have! This gonna be a series and it's gonna be like every song she performs is a different chapter! This chapter is "Slut!" and thats also the name of the album! I've taken songs that already exist and made a whole new playlist/album type thing! Each song will be a surprise as the next chapter title! In total im thinking 19 parts as there are 18 tracks and then 1 extra chapter for after the tour when taylor and matt meet up 😉 I'll also be working on making my masterlist so you guys can easily access this series! See you next time 💕

[dearreader]

i used a slight phrasing to something with the sorority so now i’m gonna be spiraling.

there was a thing we did call secret sister, it’s basically secret santa but we get a sister a gift each week of a semester up until finals when we get the big gift. i never did it as an active except for one semester when my dad was dying and i wanted something nice to look forward too.

the girl who got me is very spacey and forgets stuff a lot. the first week she wrote me a card apologizing that she forgot me and promised to make it up the following week. the following week she painted me a canvas with a taylor swift quote on it. i was happy because it felt nice to get gifts or cards that felt personal.

after that she forgot to get me a gift for three weeks. the rule is that if your forgotten two weeks in a row to tell the VP so they can talk to the sister. after the second week i was going to do so but pinky (big shocker she’s involved and makes the situation worse) was telling me to give it another week and let my sister make it up to me. she knew who it was (and since it was her friend she didn’t want me to get them in trouble, and fyi she’d be doing this one year when she was vp so…) and was urging me to wait and not get them in trouble. the next meeting i was out sick and later when i got dinner i went to check to see my gift as several gifts were still left out and saw i was forgotten again. my friend in the basement thought it was weird it let it go on for 3 weeks but to tell the VP. i did and the following week i got a random fake succulent hanger (i didn’t really like plants at the time) but everyone was just trying to point out i’d gotten a gift and was happy for me because i had been talking about it for a few days. everyone said it was rude for me to be talking about her behind her back until i said id been forgotten three weeks in a row and they were genuinely shocked.

it went on like this for the entire semester where if i didn’t remind the VP i wouldn’t receive a gift. i didn’t mind not getting a gift each week but it just felt very bad to put thought into getting someone a gift each week and being forgotten so often and without anything. i even said i wouldn’t mind if she would write me a note or card again because then it would feel acknowledged and it could be explained. but when i mentioned this pinky (it’s always this bitch) said “she doesn’t have to write you a note, kelly!” and i didn’t say anything at the time but ON GOD i wish id snapped and said “well she has to get me a gift and she’s not doing that!” because u wasn’t upset about the gift but the fact that i was just not being remembered WHICH was the whole point of the exchange! it got so bad that i was contemplating standing in front of the active chapter and just saying “don’t get me a big gift. i feel forgotten so much and i don’t want to know who you are cause it’s going to affect me view of you”

when we did the big gift i found out who it was and she got me things i did like and it was nice. but when i told my best friend she wasn’t surprised and was like “yeah no that makes sense she kept forgetting” because she’s very sweet and nice but she is so forgetful and spacey.

and i feel shitty ranting about this cause it’s so stupid and looking back i was just being a brat but i just still am hurt that i tried to do one nice thing that caused me stress so i could have something nice to look forward too while my dad was dying. but instead it was just me getting forgotten and people telling me i was being rude for bringing it up constantly until they heard me say how often she’d forgotten me. like im not just mad about this because a gift is whatever but it was just there was so much shit going on and this was the cherry on top. and i wasn’t really ever allowed to talk about my problems because no one knew how to handle it or would just ignore it. and i know it was shitty of me to constantly bring it up and trash talk her but the main thing was that i was actively fighting for me secret sister to remember me and their one thing was to remember me and that shit hurt.

like that’s an overall perfect metaphor for the sorority. jfc i got to mention this in therapy.

[deprivedmusicaljunkie]

ok im literally the nicest person ever so i'll only give u two albums to rank : red and fearless (with their vaults),, aka the longest albums she has,, have fun😘💕

ellie i am literally at my wit’s end.

it’s FEARLESS

forever & always - the petty way she says and i don’t feel welcome anymore… this whole song is just chefs kiss and i have a soft spot for it okay (the piano version HITSSS DIFFERENTTT)

tell me why - it’s kinda crazy that i’m putting this song above all the popular ones but i love it so much. the violin in the intro is just so funny to me idk why, it makes me want to burst out laughing. and taylor is just so angsty here?? this one here. my fav (you could write a book on how to ruin someone’s perfect DAAAaaaAAaaAAaaAyy)

the way i loved you - SCREAMING AND FIGHTING AND KISSING IN THE RAIN she is so distressed i adore it. i also associate this song with my old crush but whatever because i want to feel like this again

you belong with me - SOOO ICONIC i scream-sang this with my best friend and it’s so nostalgic. it’s super pick me but every girl had a pick me phase at one point so it’s okay.

love story - a classic. i should get proposed to this song methinks.

jump then fall - idk why but this song hits different guys 🥲

fifteen - I LOVE THIS SONG. i’m so jealous of abigail if my friend wrote a song about my heartbreak i would be over the moon.

fearless - “this song is about the perfect first date i’ve never had.” same girl. i actually cringe whenever i listen to this song because it reminds me of this guy i used to like so. sorry tay.

the best day - once again, taylor swift reminds me that i have daddy issues. i remember on my first listen of this album i couldn’t get through this song and had to skip it… widiwidiekckekncndcjc teared up on this relisten! so!

mr. perfectly fine - ok tbh i have some nostalgia from this song bc last year they were playing this song in a barbershop in taiwan and i was so surprised ??

the other side of the door - back to december’s bratty little sister. jk i actually love the bridge but how many little black dresses does girly have!!

come in with the rain - oooh i love the “talk to… talk to…” lyrics they’re so yummy satisfying (ellie i’m tiredddddd)

that’s when - this song is sweet. every song is sweet but this is different. twosongsleft

superstar - cresswell vibes! is this song about joe jonas

you all over me - ok ngl. the graffiti metaphor was pretty cringe

untouchable - guys. how is this album worse than debut

you’re not sorry - go off i guess!

white horse - taylor, i’m sorry but. this is getting repetitive. why are you always so fucking heartbroken

we were happy - FEARLESS IS MY LEAST FAVORITE ALBUM THIS IS SO BLAND IM BAWLING

don’t you - this song sounds like every song which sounds like every other song on this album the moment this song ends is the moment i forget everything about it

bye bye baby - was joe jonas really that good of a boyfriend. did she have to release this song. did i listen to it in its entirety. who’s to say. i am so ready for red

today was a fairytale - in my honest opinion. this vault song did not need to be released

change - it’s fine. a standard older sister song. she def wrote this after reading a ya novel. not sure how i feel about her christian era but whatever. hallelujah!

breathe - taylor. girly. let’s have a talk for a second: please have one song on this album that doesn’t sound like every other song on this album. okay?

hey stephen - very basic. nothing really stood out to me yk? (should’ve been replaced by mr perfectly fine tbh)

burning RED

begin again - I HAVE SUCH A SOFT SPOT FOR THIS SONG. LIVE FOR YOURSELF. WRITE NEW STORIES. LOOK AT THE FUTURE. YOUR HURT DOES NOT DEFINE YOU!!!!

all too well (10 minute version) - THE SHORT FILM BROKE MEEE

all too well - OUCHH watch her grammys performance it is so emotional

the last time - YESSSS MORALLY COMPLICATED GRAY AREAS MY BESTIEEEE

red - LOSING HIM WAS BLUE LIKE ID NEVER KNOWN MISSING HIM WAS DARK GRAY ALL ALONE FORGETTING HIM WAS LIKE TRYING TO KNOW SOMEBODY YOUVE NEVER METT

holy ground - i love healing. i love getting over it. i love moving on.

treacherous - FORBIDDEN LOVE!!!!

i almost do - THIS HURTS SO MUCH THIS IS JUST THE 1 IN A DIFFERENT FONT

the moment i knew - this song is genuinely so heartbreaking knowing the details of taylor’s twenty first birthday… fuck you j*ke

the lucky one - yk what her vocals are kinda funky on this one but whatever

sad beautiful tragic - at first i was going to rank it lower but then i heard the bridge and 🤭

the very first time - this is such a cute song i cant wait to listen to it when i fall in love

nothing new - THE LUCKY ONE VIBES !!

state of grace - ok idk if it’s just me but this kinda sounds like a modern day christian worship song? in all seriousness i am obsessed with this song. very movie soundtrack esque.

better man - ooh good soup. i love how she kinda has flashbacks in this song like in all too well.

starlight - really adorable!! i love the dreamy vintage aesthetic and the guitar. could totally see a grandma at some retirement home recounting her glory days.

come back… be here - she’s written better yearning songs. this is whatever

run - what is ed doing here!!!

everything has changed - i’m not a big fan of eddie but he wasn’t bad in this. plus the joker and the queen is such an iconic music video.

i knew you were trouble - so dramatic and for what!!! she slayed

forever winter - this is literally winlet from scarlets pov ???

girl at home - she really is a girl’s girl 🫶

we are never getting back together - it sounds too similar to 22 for me.

22 - not one of her best hits but it still slaps

babe - mid.

message in a bottle - nothing about this stood out to me. not my favorite.

stay stay stay - ew. barf. i hate it.

i bet you think about me - the worst taylor swift song yet. why is there a cacophony of harmonica in the chorus.

[twinker-bel]

(i wrote this whole thing on a frantic rage there WILL be typos, suck my dick grammar police) (TLDR at the end for you cowards)

hot take artists are not only allowed but supposed to use language FUCKING FIGURATIVELY AND IN A FLOWERY WAY YOU DIPSHITS

now that being said, i really hate how she is consistenly unbothered by the carbon emissions that her stupid private jets make everytime she travels from one city to another one like idk in the same state or smth. i really also hate that she is not vocal enough about supporting very important fights and that she is basically a white privileged woman. these are all facts and she doesnt do nearly enough with the platform she has.

HOW FUCKING EVER:

it makes no sense to shit on artists based on using terms like "the tortured artist" or saying that they are "tormented" or yadda yadda. like have you read hozier's lyrics? that man is white and cis-het passing (i do not know whether he is on any other part of the gender o sexuality spectrum and he does not owe any of us a comming out if he were to be queer in any way shape or form BUT HE IS VERY MUCH CIS-HET PASSIN AND THAT IS A PRIVILEGE) yet through his art he talks as if he was the most tortured soul to ever be. BECAUSE ITS ART. AND SOMETIMES SOMETIMES (plot twist its most times) ARTISTS USE THIS THING CALLED LYRICAL SPEAKER WHO IS ESSENTIALLY LIKE A CHARACTER THAT IS SINGING THE SONG, IT IS NOT NECESSARILY THE AUTHOR'S ACTUAL REAL LIFE LIVED EXPERIENCES BUT AN INTERPRETATION OF THEM, AN EXPRESSION OF THEM THROUGH ART.

now, taylor swift has crafter a persona which is incredibly marketeable and is what makes her so relevant, that persona is that of a girl/woman who has been consistenly not taken seriously by media, industry and fellow artists, as well as worldwide audiences, a girl/woman who has oerceviered and through resilience and smartness and sheer willpower has survided the constant abuse tha she was put through and stil has remained relatively a kind normal person, she sings about relatable things to a young and adult moslty femenine audience, etc, etc, etc. and guess what? that all really did happen to her. and that to an extent kinda really is her. as white and wealthy as she is, she has endured what any other woman endures all her life, except in the public eye from a young age when all she wanted was to share her music with the world, cuz lets remember she was YOUNG when she started, and from day one she experienced the same things over and over. AND IMPLYING THAT THESE HARDSHIPS ARENT VALID BECAUSE SOMEONE ELSE IS SUFFERNING MORE IS LIKE WHEN BOOMERS SAY "oh back when i was a kid i got screamed at and hit and spanked so much and im completely fine so you that have it easier than me bc that doesnt happen as much anymore are not allowed to complain about anything".

lastly, dude, the whole "tortured artist" is a cultural concept at this point, using it is basically a reference to just simply the idea that when artistic expression and (GET THIS) MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES come hand in hand it tends to result in extraordinary art. this of course is not necessarily true and one can be and incredibly great artist while havin stable good mental health. however we do know taylor has gone through eating dissorders for example, which, newsflash is completely related and closely intertwined with mental health, aside from that she has been groomed by older men or at the very least taken advantage of, etc etc etc again. Like, by concept of "tortured artist" any woman could be a great artist.

TLDR: 1) yes taylor swift does little to nothing to support hugely important humanitarian issues compared with how big of a platform she has, 2) LYRICAL SPEAKER AND ALSO ARTISTIC EXPRESSION ARE A THING THO, 3) taylor swift has actually endured hardship and the fact that its not as much as that of people losing their entire homes and families doesnt mean her own isnt valid and lastly, 4) the term "tortured artist" is widely used in the whole art scene, also criticized of course but stil the name of the album is a nod to that popular concept thats all jesus fucking christ chill.

t*ylor sw*ft is calling her new album “poems of a tortured artist” and i’m like oh are you? while there’s a genocide going on? while hospitals are being bombed and people are being killed? are you tortured writing those songs on either of your private jets or one of your eight houses with one of the biggest fanbases in the world who defend you tooth and nail no matter what? are you tortured??????

[candle-wax-and-polariods]

Im very well aware that this is probably really crappy but i don’t t care, this is something i have spent the past several hours working on, im gonna put it below the cut because its really long

In 2006 at just 16 years old a teenage girl named Taylor Swift released her self titled debut album. This album has 11 songs on the standard and is a total of 40 minutes in length. Swift's album tells the story of a young woman who is living a normal teenage life while chasing her dream.

This album opens with a song named Tim McGraw and the standard closes with a track called Our Song while the Deluxe closes with a song titled A Perfectly Good Heart. With the standard the story she chose to open the album with her debut single named after the popular country music artist Tim McGraw beginning this story with her listening to another artists work. While insignificant the choice to close this album with Our Song she is beginning this album as a young woman listening to a popular country artist and is closing this album as the writer . The deluxe ending of a perfectly good heart changes this story from one of being a girl wanting to pursue music to your standard girl going through standard teenage things making her more normal and relatable.

The opening track Tim McGraw was the lead single on this album and was named after another country artist. In this song Swift states that when her partner hears a specific song by Tim McGraw she hopes that he thinks of her. This song is all about high school love coming to an end when one has to move away without the other for college. At the beginning of this track Swift states good memories she has with her former partner such as him complimenting her eyes, his truck getting stuck at night,  and them dancing by the lake at night. Later in this track Swift states that it is bittersweet that she has a letter that she wrote for her former partner that he wound up never reading. Later on in the song Swift goes back to the street her former partner lived on before he moved away and one can conclude that she left a letter on his old doorstep for him to read when he comes back from college.

The second track on this album is titled Picture To Burn. This track writes about the anger a teenage Swift felt towards a former partner. She talks about things such as burning his picture, his pickup truck, and him wasting his time. This track begins with Swift stating she didn't get her fantasy perhaps because he loved himself more than her, she goes on to say that he calls her “obsessive and crazy” to his friends. Later in the song she talks about planning a revenge in the form of dating his best friends l, she then says that if he were to say sorry that her dad would show him how sorry he would be. This song ends with her emphasizing the type of guy he is and that she wants to burn his picture after their relationship ended.

The third track on this album is named Teardrops On My Guitar. This track addresses a guy named Drew who Swift has a crush on. This song talks all about how he doesn't know that she is experiencing this crush while chronicling what that felt like for her. Swift starts out this song by recalling a time when she faked a smile when Drew was looking at her so he wouldn't know that she wanted to be with him. In the pre-chorus Swift then goes on to talk about how while she is sure Drew has a beautiful girlfriend she's very lucky because she gets to be with him while Swift has to live without him. Swift then recalls a separate time with Drew where she laughed a Drews joke because to her it was very funny. Swift then goes on to talk about how Drew is very much in love with his girlfriend and how he doesn’t know that he’s the reason why she is crying when writing songs. Swift then recalls the time when Drew walked by her and she couldn’t breathe, she continues by calling him “perfect” and “flawless” wishing she could be that way. She then calls his partner “lucky” hoping she knows how lucky he is before going on and repeating parts of the track before ending the song.

Swift continues this album with its 4th track, titled A Place In This World. On this track Swift talks about her experience being a young woman who is alone trying to find where she belongs in the world. This track has lyrics such as “I don't know what I want/So don't ask me/‘Cause I'm still trying to figure it out” which directly talk about how she doesn’t know what she wants in life. This track also has lyrics like “Got the radio on, my old blue jeans/And I'm wearing my heart on my sleeve” that talk about her life and how she's spending her time as a teenager. On this track she states things about herself such as how she'll be “strong” and “wrong", or how all she knows is being alone. Overall, A Place In This World is a track geared towards those still trying to find what they want to do and where they belong in life.

Track 5, a famous track number in the Taylor Swift fanbase is called Cold As You. In this track Swift details her relationship with a guy who she describes as cold and uncaring. She begins this track by saying that he comes to her so easily but takes the best of her, then continues the verse by saying she starts a fight just to feel. Swift finishes the verse by saying that he would do whatever he wants to do because she isnt the type of girl  he wanted. In the chorus Swift compares the relationship to a day saying “Oh, what a shame, what a rainy ending/Given to a perfect day” telling us that while this relationship started well it ended poorly. Swift then says that he won't defend the words he will never say to her, following this by saying that after sitting and thinking about their relationship she has never been with anyone who is as cold as he was towards her. In the second verse Swift talks about how she pushed him away no matter how much she tried to love him and calling herself “a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you”. In the Bridge swift then proceeds to reflect on how while he didnt care about her, she would cry for him, and how if she died for him he wouldnt tell anybody because he didnt care about her. She ends the song by saying“countin’ all the scars you made” which implies that he is proud of the way he hurt her.

The Outside talks about how Swift was different from her peers and was an outsider as a result. She talks about things such as taking the road less traveled by, people having the ability to help but not helping, and being lonely. Swift begins this track by saying she didn’t know what she would find when she went looking for a reason why she was alone,  even though she didn’t read between the lines. She then finishes this verse by stating that she didn’t have anywhere to go. She then said that she can't ever try to be better because she is always left out by the other kids her age. Swift then continues the chorus by saying she can still see the kids who are regretting her presence even though she's being outcasted. Swift then ends the chorus by saying that even though she's been very lonely before, she's never been as lonely as she has been by being an outcast. In the second verse swift addresses how even though her peers saw her alone they never knew that she would give anything to be friends with them, she enters the pre chorus by saying they could've helped her loneliness if they noticed her sooner.

The next track on this album is titled Tied Together With A Smile and this song handles mental health challenges from the perspective of a friend. This track begins by saying that the person this song is about is the only person who can't see how beautiful they are and so she walks around thinking something about herself that isn't true. She then moves into the chorus of this track by saying her friend is losing it, and then stating “The waters high, your jumping into to it/And letting go and no one knows” and follows it to talk about how her friend cry's in secret but doesn’t tell anyone because she doesn't want ppl to know that she isn't happy. Swift ends the chorus of this song by saying “And you're tied together with a smile but you're coming undone”. In the second verse of this song Swift says that her friend only wanted love and compares the way she gives it to handing out extra change just hoping the guy she wants will get it. Swift continues this verse by saying that he ignores the girl like “a penny in the rain” because he's not the one paying the price. This track ends by placing extra emphasis on the chorus twice before the track closes.

The next track on this album is titled Stay Beautiful and it talks about how Swift hopes a guy named Cory will love her someday. Swift opens this track by comparing Cory's eyes to a jungle perhaps to say that his eyes are crazy or beautiful, and then follows this up by saying his smile is like a radio. Swift then goes on to say that Cory whispers songs to her window using words that no one knows,  then proceeding to follow this up by saying that there's a lot of pretty girls that want him as well and that they wonder if Cory even knows that or if he ever will know that. Swift then moves into the chorus of the song to say that every part  Cory is beautiful and that he's going to be somebody one day, and that she hopes that someday after he finds everything he wants that he comes back to her so they can be together. Swift starts the second verse by talking about how Cory “always  finds another way to be/ The highlight of my day” and that she takes mental pictures of him so she can think about him on a rainy day. Swift continues this verse by talking about how she struggles to converse with him because he's taking her breath away. In the bridge of this song Swift then addresses the possibility of them never becoming a thing but spinning it to have the positive that at least he'll know how beautiful he is. This track ends with the chorus repeating once again followed by the outro of the song

The track Should've Said No is the ninth track and it handles the topic of cheating. The track begins with Swift reminiscing on things her and her ex partner used to do such singing together, smiling, and buying flowers before stating that is gone after she found out about his cheating the day before. Swift then continues into the pre chorus by saying that looking at her ex feels wrong because when he had the chance to he had a moment of weakness and chose to have some form of relation with another woman. Swift then states in the chorus what he should've done, what he should’ve e been thinking about, what she shouldn’t be feeling, and what he shouldn’t t be doing to try to get her back. Swift continues into the second verse again and she states that it's obvious that she'd been crying and that he knew the right thing to say, but she knew that they could never be what they were before the cheating. In the bridge Swift then asks if the cheating was worth it before finishing the statement for him by saying no.

The 10the track on this album is titled Mary's Song (Oh My My My) which talks about two people who grew up together and always were in love even from childhood. The first verse talks about 2 kids ages 7 and 9 looking at each other “like the stars that shined”  with families who get along. In the first chorus one partner was reminiscing about a tree in the backyard jokingly talking about fighting, when the world felt tiny, and asking to kiss before running off when it actually comes to be on the horizon. In the second verse Swift talks about one partner being 16 and no longer being that little but still having the same family. In the second chorus the partners are reminiscing on their teenage years when they were riding in a truck at 2am, just needing each-other, having their first fight and then making up with one partner staying outside the other's house until morning. Swift then proceeds to describe the couple's engagement, at their favorite spot in town the guy looked at the girl before proceeding to get on one knee. In the third chorus Swift then proceeds to talk about the couple's wedding, where their whole town came and their moms cried. She continues the chorus by saying they'll go home to where they met as kids, have kids and raise them there while still being together. The song ends when the couple is 87 and 89 still looking at each-other the same way they did when they were little kids.

The final track of Swift's debut album is about her relationship from a time when they were still together. This track starts with Swift riding show gun in her boyfriend’s car with her hair undone, him having one hand on the wheel and one on her heart, Swift then recalls turning the radio down causing her partner to ask her if something is wrong making her remark that she's thinking about how they don’t have a couples song. Swift continues the song by saying he said to her their song was the sound of screen doors slamming, sneaking out late and needing to tap on windows, being on the phone late without her mom knowing so their talking slow, the way she laughs, their first date when he thought “didn’t kiss her but i should have.” Swift then proceeds to say that when she got home while praying asked God to play their song for her again. Swift then recalls a day that had gone wrong before it was all “lost and thrown away. She then continues this track recalling herself going to her bedroom and seeing a bunch of roses with a note recalling their song. In the bridge Swift recalls hearing every album and listening to the radio just to find a song as good as theirs before continuing the chorus and leading into the outro.

In summation Swift's debut album chronicles much of normal life, with things such as love, heart break, sadness, and loneliness. Swift's debut album laid the groundwork for the rest of her career by introducing herself as an artist and humanizing the mega pop star we now know of as Taylor Swift. Without this album there's a chance that Swift's career wouldn’t t be where it is today as that framework wouldn’t t be as strong. This album is the perfect example of how important debut albums are from a storytelling perspective. Additionally people can take from this album how to tell a story in not just the words they are using but also the order they are telling them. This album highlighted how talented Swift is as a musician , and storyteller and laid major groundwork for her career in both the country and pop industries.

[theprestigegirly]

i’m only doing this for 1989 because it is my favourite taylor album (and one of my favourite albums of all time) and it was my first ever CD and i listened to it through my PS4 did player when it came out when i was a kid (very special album to me basically lol)

i’m going to spare you all by putting it in one post— ranking 1989 tv compared to the original!!

enjoy <3 and i /am/ tagging this with taylor swift tags so please don’t come for me other swifties this is just my opinion and i love taylor to death i am just a nostalgia freak

wtny- 10/10 as good as the original/ (better maybe?) her mature vocals make her seem more confident i think

blank space- 9.5/10 as good as the original so yum but no extra sauce so it doesn’t get the perfect 10

style- 4/10 kind of super bland compared to the original but could have been worse (cough cough ours tv) HOWEVER very happy there’s no feature im very very happy about that (i also lowered my ranking of this after hearing how good the other songs were as well compared to the og— so i didn’t hate this, it just didn’t measure up as well to the others)

out of the woods- 7.5/10 was most excited for this one as it’s one of my overall favs so just a smidge disappointed— just as good with a super satisfying sounding chorus up until the BRIDGE which did not belt like it should’ve </3 i also wanted a “do you rememberrrr 😠😫😤” but still solid

all you had to do was stay- 8/10 i will add it to my taylor playlist but i feel like it didn’t blow my mind like the ones i put as a 10? did like it though i feel like it was just missing a bit of punch

shake it off- 10/10 THE VOICE PARTS were so great they made it as good as the original plus i loved the yeeeaaaaaahhhhheeeeaaaah

i wish you would- 9/10 i love this song to death i feel like the tv measures up to the original in a way where i can’t tell the difference

bad blood- 10/10 i usually do not like this song icl it’s one of my least favourite songs she wrote HOWEVER her vocals in this make it better than the original— it is not a 10/10 song in the grand scheme of the album (it’s still the worst song on the album) but the vocals make it better than the original thus 10/10 compared to the og

wildest dreams- 9/10 came out ages ago, wildest dreams probably one of my favourites of all her songs, as good as the original but has no extra sauce

how you get the girl- 10/10 i fucking love this song to death and her new vocal clarity in this production makes it much more emotive than the original which was more synth bubblegum — also another song which is overhated and i happen to love to death (LIKE SUPERMAN WHICH IS MY FAVOURITE SONG) that i feel she gives more to in tv vocal wise like she’s really giving this

this love- 10/10 i like this for different reasons to the original- this version i feel is more restful? i have this on whole separate playlists as more relaxing vs the original as more romantic

i know places- 11/10 THIS WAS SO GOOD THE BEST SO FAR BUT i have to say the high note techno effect in this production is like nails on a chalkboard for me, however the rest is really good which makes me sooo sad because that stupid high note techno effect bothers me so much. but the GROWL on we run actually made me squeal she gives it so much

clean- 10/10 because it was way too slay 😭😭 usually clean is like depression cry but the production of this plus her gorgeously dynamic vocals made me want to do a little happy jig rather than cry myself to sleep— which i did like a lot i’m sick of my depression era

wonderland- 9/10 really really love this song anyway and this was really good i loved some of the squeaky bits they were giving seagull but i wish she had the same slay in cheshire cat smile (bc that was my favourite part of the song)

you are in love- 9/10 love this song anyway i think this was just a little less emotional than the original but still great i like how you can still hear her smile through each word- but i don’t really like the production of this one icl vocals good production not so muchhh

new romantics- 8/10 she didn’t give the same energy to switch sides like a record changer which again is a part i really liked also the aaaa a aa is a bit too mosquito core icl but i did like i can build a casttleeeeeee

OVERALL— 10/10 i was actually set up to hate this one the most because im both a nostalgia freak plus 1989 is my favourite album but overall i would say this is her BEST taylor’s version. this really still sounds like how i think classic taylor swift of my childhood sounds and i really really really like it im so so happy!!!! thank you for reading my shit if you did!

[sweet-creature101]

Kiwi

Summary: Harry recently started his solo carrier and Sarah recommmeds y/n as his lead guitarist. Harry finds himself intimidated by y/n and y/n could not care less.

famous!harry ; an enemies to lovers trope

part two

warnings: mention of alcohol. Swearing. Suggestive language and sexual tension.

“Come on Harry trust me on this. It won’t go downhill. She’s really good.” Sarah pleaded her case for the tenth time since the past one hour. Harry was certain she would talk his ear off.

“What was her name again?” Mitch asked Sarah.

“Y/n.”

“Sarah, I don’t know about this. I’ve known you all since a long time and it’s easy to work with you.” Harry said, slightly skeptical about a new addition to his team.

Harry knew who you were, a very successful songwriter and one hell of a guitar player. He knew you worked with bands like 5sos, 21 Pilots and even wrote a few songs on Taylor’s swifts album, Reputation. He saw you at a concert once and immediately fell in love with the way your presence consumed the concert wholly. No one cared about who was singing because everyone’s eyes were fixated on the young seductress clad in black leather and playing her instrument as if her life depended on it.

“You can only grow if you’re out of your comfort zone.” Sarah firmly stated, crossing her arms over her chest huffing out a breath.

Harry thought about it for a good minute. He needed someone with experience and you seemed to have it. You knew how to write and what to write. Perhaps a little experiment wouldn’t be so bad.

“Okay. I’m trusting your judgement on this.” Harry said nodding.

“Great because y/n’s in the elevator right now.” Sarah said giggling slightly. “Thank God you didn’t say no. Would’ve been a difficult conversation.” She mumbled, relived at how the situation panned out.

The apartment bell rang and Sarah jumped out of her seat startling Mitch who was sitting next to her. She took long strides towards the door.

“Y/n! Oh my gosh, it’s been ages! You look wonderful!” Sarah said hugging you. You smiled and hugged her back, glad to meet her once again after what seemed like a century.

“Thank you. How’ve you been?” You asked her, not bothering to take note of the two men who seemed to scrutinise your interaction with quite a lot of concentration.

“Same ol’ same ol” Sarah chuckled as she let you in.

“Harry, Mitch meet y/n.” Sarah introduced you to them. You found yourself in an awkward postion so you simply gave a wave and a loose smile.

If Harry was a ball of sunshine then you were a raging hurricane. The two of you were polar opposites. Harry radiated warmth and seemed to be the kind of person whom other people could talk to. Meanwhile you on the other hand were someone who kept to themselves.

Harry couldn’t help but notice your sweeping eyeliner. He observed it quite attentively, how it was winged at the edge of your eye and in the inner corner as well in a feline manner. You wore low waisted jeans with a fitted graphic black tee shirt that ended just below your navel, showing a silver of skin.

“So y/n, what’s your work like?” Mitch asked you.

“I write mainly rock but I’m open to new suggestions.” You said. Sarah nodded as if to say ‘awesome.’

Your voice was firm and authoritative as you answered the question. Harry found himself completly entranced by this complexity of a person that stood in front of him. He figured it out the minute you walked into the room with your head held high that working with you wouldn’t be easy.

“Do you have any questions Harry?” Sarah asked him. Harry only nodded no.

“Great. Im going out for a smoke.” You said leaving the three of them alone again.

“She’s scary.” Harry said once the door shut. Sarah rolled her eyes in response. “She’s a no nonsense person Harry.”

“And scary.” He added again.

“I know you’re not used to people like her. Just because you’re both literal opposites doesn’t mean she’ll eat you alive.” Sarah snorted. “You like her, don’t you Mitch?” Sarah asked him. Mitch only swallowed and replied, “I like her better on stage.”

“Oh hush both of you. Give her time.”

——————————————

“It doesn’t sound good.” Harry huffed out impatiently, staring at the lyrics he scribbled. It had been more than a week since everyone started to work on his debut album.

Harry began to habour a certain disliking for you, owing to lack of your participation and one word answers. You would sit away from everyone, scribble in your diary and would rarely look up from its pages.

“You know what guys, let’s just take a breather yeah?” Jeff, Harry’s manager said getting up from his chair and stretching his legs.

“I’m going out for a walk.” Sarah said, pulling Mitch to his feet as well. Harry was about to get up as well but Sarah mouthed to him; ‘talk to her’ as she gestured towards you. Harry looked at her with wide eyes and was ready to protest but Sarah was quick on her feet.

“Y/n.” Harry called out your name. You looked up at him, the loose strands strands of your braid fell down framing your face. You raised your eyebrows as if to say ‘speak on.’

Harry cleared his throat. “What are you writing?”

“Nothing much. Just an idea.” You said. That was the most you had spoken.

Harry noticed that today, there was no eyeliner but smudged kohl lining your eyes. You opted for a plain white tank top and a pair of mini cargo shorts. A surprise for Harry who was much too used to seeing you in black.

“I think, everyone would appreciate it if you would participate more you know?” Harry said. You only nodded and went back to scribbling.

“See! This is what you do y/n. You don’t talk. You’re so busy doing God knows what. I get it, you know you’re talented but that doesn’t mean you’re better than us.” Harry exploded. You shut your dairy hard and stared at him with rage.

“It’s been almost two weeks since you joined us. Have you contributed in any way?” Harry added, his voice reaching a higher octave and getting louder by the second.

“First of all, I don’t think I’m fucking better than you and second of all, instead of blaming me why don’t you recognise the fact that you’re scared and absolutely clueless.” You spat at him.

“I’m not scared.” Harry said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah right.” You scoffed rolling your eyes. “You’re so scared that you’re putting the blame on me just because I’m the newbie. This solo carrier is new to you and that terrifies the shit out of you Harry. So much that you can’t even work. If I have to be the punching bag then I’m fucking leaving.” You stated grabbing your bag.

“You don’t know shit y/n.”

You didnt care about what Harry said next as you walked out of the room.

—————————————————

“Was it really necessary Harry?” Jeff said, rubbing his head with his hands. The stress of not having completed the album began to increase.

“I told you, ‘give her some time.’ Did you do that Harry? No. You just had to say something.” Sarah said, flinging her arms in the air.

“I mean, was Harry wrong though? Y/n was… just there you know. She didn’t talk, she didn’t help. Good riddance I say.” Mitch said.

The whole group was torn up over this. Harry began to feel guilt overpower him, but the rage he felt at your words was far too much for him to hone. He knew you were right and he hated you for that. He hated you for the fact that you were so good at reading him. Harry knew that you didn’t talk because you were shy but because you never found yourself as engaged as the others. You were aloof, and gave the impression that nothing bothered you at all.

“It’s been what; six days since she stormed off?” Jeff asked harry.

“Seven.”

“Jesus.”

Harry was certain that you overreacted to the situation. Granted, you didn’t want to be here and Harry left no stone unturned when it came to reminding you his dislike for you.

The door bell rang, Harry got up to look through the key hole. He felt the colour drain from his face. It was you. Standing in front of the door.

“It’s her.” Harry whispered with his eyes wide.

“You know I can hear you, ya dick. Open the door or I’m leaving.” You, irritation lacing your face.

You began to hate Harry or at least develop an aggressive aversion towards him as time passed. You hated how he seemed to have enough energy throughout the day to burst into a song. You hated that he was all smiles and giggles every second of the day. The only one thing you liked about him was how intimadated he was by you. But you knew that he could be much more terrifying than you when the time came.

“Pick your poison.” Mitch said.

Harry opened the door to meet your black smudged eyes. You push him as you enter the room and slam the diary on the centre table with a loud thud.

“Here you go. You said Im no help at all. Well I beg to differ. I’ve written three songs.” You said. Harry picked up the diary and flipped through the pages.

Kiwi

Medicine

Only angel

Strange names for such explicit songs.

Harry passed the diary to Sarah who looked at the songs with amazement.

“Harry we’ve got to add these.” Sarah said, excitement lacing her eyes.

“I don’t need anyone to plead my case. If he likes them, good enough.” You said, your voice unwavering as you looked at Harry who narrowed his eyes at you.

“I like them.”

—————————————

Within a week, all recordings were done and the album was ready to launch. Jeff suggested that the four of you should to go out, let off some steam because life would never be the same once the album got released.

Everyone was quite surprised when you suggested a place to party. You were quite intent on getting shit faced because the past month had been a whirlwind to say the least.

You wore a black mini dress, encased with sequins that was backless. Your eyes were lined with heavy kohl and mascara. Your whole face was bare other than your eyes.

“Johnnieeeee!” You exclaim to the large bouncer, a smile on your face as you high five him.

“Y/n been a long time. I see you’ve got friends.” He said, eyeing the people behind you.

Sarah felt that the club you brought them to too was far too dark and dingy for her liking. It was dark and the music was blaring. The club smelt of sex, drugs and alcohol. Your natural habitat. She held Mitchs hand in hers who was amused at her behaviour.

“I promise I’ll be good.” You say, looking up at him with doe eyes and a sly smile. John chuckled and let you in the club.

“We have go to do shots.” You exclaim to all three of them. Harry was surprised at your behaviour to say the least, he never would’ve pegged you as someone who even had the ability to smile let alone laugh.

“Nope. I’m driving.” Sarah said throwing her hands up in the air.

“Jeez such a buzzkill.” You said making Sarah roll her eyes. You stuck your tongue out at her as you made your way to the bar with Harry and Mitch.

“Don’t stop till your at least ten shots down.” You said with a cunning smile and excited eyes.

“Ten?!” Mitch exclaimed.

“Six.” Harry interjected.

“Deal.”

Harry learnt a great deal about that night. Especially the fact that you have a tendency to dance with almost anyone and everyone.

He saw you make your way to the dancefloor, not bothered about the fact that you had no one to dance with. You swayed your hips to the song, your arms moving and a bright smile etched on your face. You were surrounded by men and women. Harry saw you dance with a man whom you didn’t know, he wished you would be that carefree with him.

After an hour of drinking and talking, Harry found you dancing on the table with a few other people.

“Is this normal?” He asked Sarah who snickered in response. “Yep. She’s a fun drunk.”

You spot Harry and get down from the table, stumbling forward. The strap of your heel loosened and Harry quickly caught hold of you.

“Wait a second.” Harry said, as he kneeled down to fix your strap. Once he got up he saw your glassy eyes laiden with lust and simply smirked.

“You like watching me get down on my knees for you, huh?” Harry whispered in your ear, his grip harsh around your waist as he pulled you towards himself . You felt heat rise up your thighs and stomach.

“Isn’t that what men are good for anways?” You whispered, closing any gap you two had as you put one hand behind his neck, tugging him closer to you. “Don’t think this changes anything betwen us Styles. You’re still a nightmare.” You whispered to him in his ear slowly.

You stood so close to each other that you could feel each others heat radiate. Harry’s heart raced as his eyes met yours. You were cautious with your gaze, afraid that if you looked any longer in his eyes, he might spot the hunger in yours just as you might see his making you lose any self control you exercised.

“I have someone waiting for me.” You spoke, breaking the silence. Harry raised his eyebrows in amusement as his hands wandered down your waist to your lower back. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he left a bite there. You let out a soft moan, turning into complete putty in his grip.

“I could fuck you much better y/n.” He said, his voice dangerously low.

“I don’t want to be fucked missionary style that’ll leave me unsatisfied.”

“Your moan said otherwise.”

Two can play this game.

You wiggled out of his grip, ignoring the throbbing between your legs as you sauntered towards the dance floor, blowing a kiss at Harry from a distance.

——————————————

“Hello?” Your groggy voice spoke into the microphone of your phone. Your head throbbing due to last night.

“Y/n. Where are you?” Jeff asked you.

“Home.”

“Come over to Harry’s. Got something to discuss.”

“I’ll be there in five.” You said before hanging up on the phone.

You washed your face, put on a large tee shirt and an oversized pair of sunglasses. You brushed your hair and slipped into your slippers. It was a ten minute drive to Harry’s house. The radio was silent. The windows were rolled down because you needed fresh air now more than ever.

You reached his flat and rang the doorbell.

“My my look who’s here.” Harry taunted as he opened the door to see you in an oversized tee shirt, legs bare and slippers. He couldn’t control all the thoughts that seemed to slip in and out his head as he saw your legs.

“Show me your eyes love.” Harry snickered knowing they must be bloodshot. You flipped him off and plopped down on the bean bag, groaning as you held your head.

“You seemed to have a lot of fun last night.” Mitch said, getting a stare from Sarah. “You should see the videos.” He added. Your head shot up at his words.

“Videos?”

“Yep. They’re too good.” He snickered. You removed your sunglasses and pounced at Harry who began to play videos of you dancing on table tops.

“Give. Me. The. Damn. Phone.” You said in between breathes as you attempted to strangle Harry. You were about to smack Harry but he picked you up by your waist, throwing you on his shoulder.

“Put me down.” You stated firmly.

“Only if you don’t strangle me.” Harry said chuckling at your sorry state.

“I don’t make promises Styles.”

“Too bad. I’ll post it if you continue to be a brat.” He said.

“Fine.”

Harry put you down, running a hand through your messy hair which you swatted off. He noticed how young you looked without lining your eyes, a different girl, perhaps even innocent. You looked like a doe. You looked beautiful.

“You’re drolling on the carpet Styles.” You said rolling your eyes at him.

“Am I supposed to deny that I find you attractive?” He questioned, his voice low and alluring. He spoke slow enough to make your thighs quiver. Your mind suddenly flashed you images of how his large hand felt against your waist last night.

“I’m too hungover for this.” The only defense left.

This was new to you. This feeling of loathing someone to no extent but also finding them undeniably attractive. Attractive enough to make your thoughts wander off to forbidden places and scenarios.

“What happened to your neck?” Sarah said, noticing the love bite that Harry left the other night. You rolled your head back as you rubbed your eyes with a yawn. Harry felt proud to say the least, he smirked and winked at you while you barely controlled the urge to smash his face in the table neck to him.

“Why am I even here?” You said groaning. “The work is done. The albums done. What do you possibly need for me now?” You added.

“Come to tour with us.” Jeff said, his manager persona now showing.

“What?”

“Yes.”

“It wasn’t in the contract Jeff.”

“Consider this, an impromptu decision.” He reasoned with you.

“I’ll do only concerts. No interviews. No playing for videos and no recordings.” You said.

“Deal.”

You huffed a breath as you reached for the glass of water next to you. “That’s mine!” Harry whined. You flipped him off as you wore your sunglasses and went to sleep.

“Oh y/n what’s your Instagram?” Jeff asked. You scoffed at his question, “don’t have one.” You simply said. “Well, Harry follows his band members so-”

“No.” and with that you went to sleep.

—————————————

The album was a success to say the least. Everyone seemed to recognise Harry as Harry styles and not as Harry from One Direction. It was bitter sweet to say the least. Harry was excited and enthralled to be able to embark a whole new journey.

The album release party was a success. But you weren’t there, Harry had called you not once but twice asking you why you weren’t there.

“Y/n, it’s already six, why aren’t you at the party?” Harry asked you on call.

“Because I didn’t plan on going.” A short answer. Your one word answers now began to become a bit longer but they annoyed Harry nonetheless.

“The whole band’s here.”

“I’m not part of your band Harry. I helped you write your songs.” You stated.

“But you’re going to tour with us.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

And now as Harry stood in front of the stage, waiting for the crowd to pour in, he wondered where you were. You had insisted on driving to the show venue on your own instead of travelling with the band. Harry tried to persuade you but you didn’t budge.

“Is she here?” Harry asked Jeff who only nodded no. Harry was getting worried now. He was supposed to get ready, but he was much to engaged in wondering about your whereabouts. It was his first show and your words about him being scared rang in his head.

“She’ll be here don’t worry.” Jeff said.

By the time Harry got ready, he spotted you, a cigarette in your mouth as you look towards the stage. You wore a latex, dark emerald coloured waistcoat that resembled a corset. It pushed your breasts together and ended just above the curve of your waist. You wore low waisted black bell bottoms. The waistcoat and the bell bottoms gave off the illusion of an hourglass figure. Your eyes were covered in your signature feline eyeliner, curving in the inner and outer corner of your eye.

“Y/n!” Harry called your name. You looked up at him, a lazy smile on your face as you disposed the cigarette.

“My my look at you styles. A fucking prince you are.” You said snickering. Harry stuck his tongue out at you. He wore a red blazer clad with black flowers and the same pattern was all over his trousers. His hair were unruly yet only added to his charm.

“Ya scared?” You asked him.

“No. I mean, I’m just…. excited yet scared you know?”

“Hmm.”

“You stick out like a sore thumb.” Harry said, his eyebrows raised at you as he scanned you up and down.

“Excuse me for not wanting to dress up as a fucking rainbow.” You said scowling at Harry who passed you a smile. “Y’know what would really go well with your top?” Harry said, his eyes twinkling. “What?”

“Wait.” Harry ran off of to his dressing room, fetching a silver cross necklace. The cross was heavy and large, engraved with swirls and very small rubies decorating it. Harry gestured you to turn around, his hands brushed against your skin as he snapped it’s lock in place. The cross rested against the curve of your breasts, demanding attention and praise. “How about a hickey to tie your look together?” Harry questioned.

“From you? Not even in your dreams Styles.” You said. Harry smirked at you and went towards the stage.

—————————————

Harry felt alive. He felt free and invincible on stage. But you, you were the personification of sex. The minute Kiwi began to play, the crowds focus shifted from Harry to you.

You whipped your hair back and forth, your back arching, a cigarette encased in your pink lips, sweat gleaming down the curves of your waist, breasts and arms. The crowd went absolutely wild as you winked at them. Harry’s photographer, Lloyd was entranced with you. He couldn’t help but photograph you. Your eyebrows were sinched together in focus, your eyes closed, your mouth slightly open and your body fully arched.

After the first concert, the fans and media were deep diving into who you were and tried to uncover your identity. As the tour progressed, the crowd began to make posters stating things like “we’re here for y/n!” “Give us y/n!”

There were pictures of you everywhere, playing the guitar as your face morphed into an expression which Harry called your “orgasm face.”

Harry was asked about you during interviews as well, the media was left questioning about your identity and they found themselves allured by a recent stunt you pulled at a concert.

You jumped off the stage during Medicine and went up to a man, roughly around your age if not older. The man lit the cigarette in your mouth with his lighter as you winked at him and murmured “thank you love.”

—————————————

The tour had finally ended. You were in your dressing room, your chest heaving up and down. The adrenaline after the show still lingering in your blood stream. You removed your top and were standing in your bra, the minute Harry barged in.

“Knock on my door ya’dick!” You said, crossing your arms over your chest which did nothing at all to ease Harry since your breasts were pushed up.

After months of sexual tension, Harry finally felt himself crack.

“Got to teach you some manners.” You murmured.

“Really?” He tutted, pulling you by the loop of your jeans.

You understood where this was heading. “Hmm.” You hummed, moving your hands slowly on the buttons of his shirt. Harry caught your wrist making you look up at him. He looked in your eyes, deep and seriously as if to contemplate his actions. You pulled him by his neck, close enough that your foreheads touched.

“M’gonna regret this.” He whispered. He didn’t give you a chance to respond as he connected his lips to yours, his tongue swirling in your mouth. His hands wandered down the curve of your spine and lingered there. You deepened the kiss, letting your hunger overpower you. He wasn’t close enough, you needed his skin next to yours, rubbing, you needed to feel him, you needed him.

There was a knock on the door, you immediately recoil away from Harry although his hands were still on your bare back. “Y/n, Vanessa’s here for you.” Laura, his assistant said.

Vanessa and you were supposed to head out to paris the next morning. Harry felt a hole cave in his chest, remembering about your departure.

“I’ll be there.” You said.

You kissed Harry, a sweet and soulful kiss. Not the one that was ruled with consumption and the urge to mark.

“You should stay.” Harry whispered, holding you.

“I never stay anywhere for too long.”

Harry looked at you, his eyes staring into yours as you squeezed his hand. “Who’re you gonna strangle now?” You laughed remembering all the times you tried to strangle and choke him, resting your head on his chest.

“I’ve got to go.” You said, slipping out of his grip, slipping on a tee shirt as you picked up your stuff.

Harry looked at you with a look of longing. How stupid. How cruel. How unfair. He thought to himself as he saw you leave.

“When will I see you again?” He asked you.

“When it’s the right time.” You said, kissing his cheek.

——————————————

Authors note; how are we feeling about a part two? let me know in the comments section <3

[grey-rambles]

heyyy

was wondering if you could write something with dream (or techno) based on 'peace' by taylor swift..

im a huggggeee swiftie and love your writing soooo,,,

(also preferably fluff pls, ik it's not exactly a fluff song but ahh)

oh ya pronouns- gender-neutral or female pronouns please

also also, if you have anons could I be 🐍 pls (for taylor-related reasons)

this is actually my very first time asking anything so im quite nervouss

Hi hi hi, my first request, I'm so excited!!!

Of course you can be 🐍, I don't have any anons at present, so you'll be the first!

Fic and rambling under the cut

Gonna be real with you, darling 🐍, I haven't listened to much tswift since around the release of 1989, but I really enjoyed this song!

My brain went a couple of different directions after a couple of listens. My big question was who is narrating the song? Is it the reader, or the love interest?

So I wrote one for both! A more literal take on the lyrics featuring a version of Manhunt!Dream, and a take that's a bit of a roleswap (famous!reader) with Techno, that I think is a little more true to Taylor's intentions when she wrote the song.

Both drabbles are about ~1k, so short for me! I hope you like them!

Both of these drabbles feature a gender neutral reader! Some mentions of violence in the Dream piece, no other TWs for Techno!

Dream

"I need you to hide me."

"Well, hello to you too, love," you say in reply, looking up from the dough you were working on, grinning at the form of your partner. Dream was seated on the windowsill of your kitchen, mask affixed to his face. His usual dark green cloak wrapped around him and his axe hanging at his hip, he cut quite the intimidating figure.

"Y/N, there's no time, you have to hide me! The hunters will be here any second!"

Smile dropping at the urgency in his tone, the two of you began a well-practiced routine, and soon enough, Dream was dropping into the hidden crawlspace beneath your home. You headed back to the kitchen, heart pounding, and resumed work on your baking, waiting for the inevitable knock on the door.

This was not the first time this had happened, and you were sure it wouldn't be the last. A notorious thief, Dream was often on the run from hunters hired by the king to bring him in for crimes against the crown– read: stealing from the nobles to help those in need.

The two of you had met in a situation very similar to today; Dream was being chased through the town by hunters, and you, on impulse, had reached out and tugged him along into your house, where you had proceeded to shove him into the crawlspace and hiss at him to be quiet. Ever since, he had come to you whenever he was in need of a place to hide.

After a couple of these close calls, Dream had started hanging around with you after the coast was clear, and the two of you grew closer. The first time you saw him without his mask was right before he leaned in and kissed you for the first time. And the rest was history.

You honestly lived a pretty quiet, monotonous life when Dream wasn't around. He was often away for long stretches at a time, but he always came back. Dream made a point to always spend at least one night at your house every time he stopped by, which was wonderful.

You were snapped out of your reverie by a sharp knock on the door. Wiping some flour onto your apron, and heading over to the door, you made sure to school your expression into one of shock when you opened the door to the King's Men on the other side.

"Gentlemen," you stated cooly, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

One of the three men standing outside your door shoved roughly past you. "You know damn well why we're here. Where is he?!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but please, take a look around," you smiled with icy eyes, "You'll quickly find that I have nothing to hide."

The men made quick work of searching your small home, finding nothing, of course. You were far too good at this for them to even stand a chance. Filing back towards the exit, you watched them leave, hands on your hips. The hunter taking up the rear grabbed an apple out of your fruit bowl on his way past, making eye contact with you, as though daring you to say anything. Knowing better than to rise to the bait, you let it be.

After a couple of minutes, you knocked a pattern on the floor near the crawlspace, and returned to the kitchen to finish up your pastries. A moment later, Dream joined you. You smiled at the sight of his unmasked face, green eyes as bright as ever, freckles on display for you to trace like constellations with your eyes.

He came up behind you and wrapped himself around your body, arms winding around your waist, head buried in your hair.

You two stood in silence for a time while you worked, which was pretty unusual honestly. Dream was usually wanting to talk your ear off when he first arrived, overflowing with stories about his adventures.

"Everything okay, love?" you asked. He sighed in response.

After a moment, Dream spoke softly. "Sometimes I wonder how it's worth it for you, being with me."

Your hands stilled. "What do you mean?'

He sighed again. "Listen, baby. I love you. I'd give almost anything for you. But I can't quit my work, and that puts you in danger every day. If anyone finds out about our relationship, you'll be thrown in prison or worse. And I'm so rarely around in the first place! What if something happens while I'm away, and I can't do anything to stop it? Is this whole thing even worth doing if I can't keep you safe?"

"Of course it is!" You turned around in his arms, facing him, and raised a hand up to cup his cheek. He leaned in to the contact, turning slightly to press a kiss to your palm.

"Dream, I love you. That makes every second of this worth it to me." You smiled softly, leaning up to kiss him on the nose. He wrinkles the bridge of it in response. "Besides," you added, turning back to your baking, "my life was so boring without you around. I'll take this over a peaceful life any day."

Pulling you tighter against his body, Dream dragged you out of the kitchen towards the bedroom.

"Hey! Dream! My danishes…"

"They can wait," he said, still moving you along, "it's cuddle time now."

You just let it happen. Cuddles did sound nice…

The two of you spent the rest of the day curled up in bed, exchanging lazy kisses and dozing lightly in each other's arms. Numerous 'I love you's' were uttered into the space between your bodies, and you eventually fell asleep properly, safe in your love's arms.

After all was said and done, your danishes didn't get done until the next day. You couldn't find it in yourself to mind.

Technoblade

You let out a sigh as you came in the door, Techno right behind you. 

This was the third time so far this week that you two had been basically ambushed by paparazzi, and you were getting sick of it. Couldn't you have one nice date out with your boyfriend without being surrounded?

Techno moves past you where you stand in the entryway, heading for the kitchen, presumably to make himself a cup of tea. He wasn't the biggest fan of social situations or crowds, so you were sure he was feeling even worse than you were. 

Moving to check on him, you pause a moment in the doorway. He cut a fine figure, glasses slipping down his nose, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, hair falling loose in waves around his face. 

"You doing okay, Techno? That must have been stressful for you," you ask, moving to sit on one of the bar stools at the island in the center of the room. He smiles at you, but stress still lines the corners of his eyes. 

"'Course I'm alright, sweetheart. Why wouldn't I be?" 

"I know how much you hate crowds, Tech. You don't have to lie to spare my feelings." 

He sighs fondly. "Alright. It was a bit much, but nothing I couldn't handle. And we both made it back here safe, so all's well." 

He moves to pass you into the living room, pressing an absent kiss on your temple on the way past. You only open your mouth to speak once he's past you, unable to look him in the eyes for what's about to come out of your life.

"You could leave me, if you want. I wouldn't blame you."

His footsteps come to a stop. "Why on earth would I do that?" he asks. The footsteps approach you again, and you can feel his presence behind you. 

Refusing to turn and face him, you continue speaking to the countertop in front of you. "Tech… what happened out there today is gonna be the norm for me, probably for the rest of my life. And if it isn't being swarmed by paparazzi, then it'll be something else. Some drama, or crazy long work hours where I'm away from you, or some rumour of an affair I'm having. It's never going to stop, not ever. I love you with every fiber of my being, and I'll give you anything and everything I'm able to, but that doesn't change the facts."

You pause and take a shuddering, deep breath. "So long as you're with me, you will never know peace." 

It's silent for a moment. You close your eyes, bracing for whatever Techno is going to say next.

"I'm kind of offended you think that any of that matters to me, sweetheart."

Your eyes snap open, and you whirl around to face him as he continues on.

"I mean… I knew what I was getting into when you blew up. You're not getting rid of me that easy." 

You shake your head in disbelief.

"Did you not hear me, Tech? You'll never know a moment's rest if you stay with me! That's okay with you?"

He reaches out to rest a hand on your hip, drawing closer to your body where you're perched on the seat. 

"Sweetheart, so long as I get to be with you, nothing else matters."

You break in that moment, leaning your face against his chest as you cry. He wraps himself more securely around you, murmuring reassurances into your hair. 

After some time, you pull away, still sniffling lightly. "You're sure? You're sure that this existence is enough for you?" 

He smiles gently down at you. "How many times are you gonna make me say it?" 

"Maybe just once more." You return his smile shakily.

"I love you. Of course it's enough for me." He seals his promise with a gentle kiss to your lips.

You spend the rest of the night curled up in Techno's arms on the couch, just basking in each other's presence, before the next wave of insanity hits. 

Together, you think with a smile as you snuggle further into his hold, you could make it through anything so long as you're together.

[acetheta]

Ok Enchanted Taylor Swift for character/ship analysis (I think it's very Rachel towards Percy esque but that's just me probs)

omg so all i wrote just got deleted but im gonna just try to word it all again jdkskdkd 😭

it really reminds me of jasper before piper realized she wasn’t in love with jason. “there i was again tonight, forcing laughter, faking smiles” could be piper’s almost like… subconscious talking? she may have not even realized she was faking smiles around jason, but she very well could have been. she never really got a break from him until after gaea was defeated. never got even a moment to think about how tired she was. jason was stable, her love for jason was something that she knew. she was too busy saving the world to think about something “as simple as feelings”. “” because feelings, romantic or not, are really never simple. “same old tired, lonely place” because in reality, she didn’t have someone she romantically loved. again, she must have been so exhausted from constantly convincing herself she felt a certain way. it’s the same way when someone refuses to think they are anything other than cishet. it hurts to push it down for so long, but you keep on doing it. “all i can say is it was enchanting to meet you” meaning that when jason woke up, maybe a part of her knew she was looking at a stranger. she got to know the real jason, not the jason from her memories. it felt almost “enchanting” because it was this thing she called love. enchanting because it felt magical, like it was too good to be real. and in the end, it was. piper wanted to feel enchanted by jason’s love, but magic only lasts so long. spells stop working more often than not. enchanting because it felt like she was a main character in a movie. but this wasn’t a romance, no no, it was a tragedy. “your eyes whispered, ‘have we met” referring to when jason woke up with his amnesia, pretty simple meaning there lmao. “this night is sparkling, don’t you let it go” more relating to what i was talking about before, here. a type of spell she never wanted to break. she kept glueing it back together over and over again, but eventually, she couldn’t hold the wand shards together anymore. she never wants this magic to stop working, so she hangs onto every good memory that she can. she hangs onto every good feeling she has about jason, she hangs onto these things for as long as she possibly can.

[pwarkluv]

❝ what is love? - l.mk ❞

lee mark x reader | fluff | 2k words

WARNINGS | lowercase is intended, idol au, love at first sight au, 6thmemberofitzy!reader, shy!mark and shy!reader, fluff bc that’s what i’m best at LOL, another request :), just enjoy <3

REQUEST | “hii i read ur electric love fic w jisung and i really loved it :DD could you do the same for mark ? still as the 6th member of itzy ofc :D” - my lovely anon <3

SUMMARY | he wonders what is love, but finds the answer in you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | inspired by the song “what is love” by twice (english lyrics by genius translations)! ANOTHER REQUEST HDSFKLDSJHF IM SO SO SO SO EXCITED! i wanted to change up the setting so it’s still 6th member itzy, but not in weekly idol :P ALSO this was inspired by when nct dream, itzy, and stray kids sat next to each each other in that one award show so yeah lolol. IM SO SORRY I LOST THE MESSAGE WHERE MY ANON ASKED FOR IT BUT I STILL WROTE IT FOR YOU! I LOVE YOU, THANK YOU, NEVER BE SHY TO DM ME ;)

what is love?

mark knew the general idea of it; the sappy moments movies show, the “butterflies in your stomach” feeling books portray, the pain and hardships songs make you feel. 

but he’s never been in love, at least not like this.

❝ how could it be as sweet as candy? ❞

training at such a young age molded mark into the perfect idol, and with that he was fully aware dating would look bad to the public. he accepted the fact that he might never find love, all to help achieve his dream. 

but as cheesy as it sounds, the canadian wished to be loved. 

yes he was loved by his members, his family, his friends, his fans; but the type of love he longed for was something none of them could give him. 

mark wanted to feel the sweetness of being in love, the giddiness you’d feel whenever you talk to them, the pounding of your heart whenever they’re near. he wanted to experience the overwhelming need to be with that person, like if they’re gone for too long it’s like you can’t breathe.

was being in love like making a song for the very first time? or was it like eating watermelon all the time?

so many questions with no answers, the boy left to wander in his own thoughts. 

❝ how it’s like flying in the sky? ❞

he smiled bittersweetly as the newly wed couple danced around in confetti, the sound of laughter and cheers resonating around the room. one of nct’s managers that had been with them since the beginning invited them to her wedding, to which the team obviously accepted. 

all 23 of them were happy for their noona who found her happy ending. mark could only watch in awe at the sight of the two lovebirds, the love and adoration for the other evident in the way they looked at each other.

his heart tugged a bit knowing he wanted something like that too. 

“being in love is like flying in the sky.” his manager explained to the boy as a makeup artist experimentally brushed strokes on her face. it was a couple hours before the ceremony when mark knocked on her hotel door, wanting to visit his favorite noona before she finally said ‘i do’. 

his question left his mouth before mark could fully register what he was about to say, the poor boy flushing a bit as the woman laughed at him. 

“are you in love mark? is that why you’re asking me how i knew i was in love?” she teased as mark stutterd, denying her accusation.

“n-no i swear!” he said as his manager continued laughing, the makeup artist having to pause a bit to let her get it all out. “i’m just curious.” mark said quietly trying to stop the heat from rushing up to his cheeks. 

“well being in love is a magical feeling.” the woman said, turning a bit serious. mark sat up straight as he listened intently. “when you realize you love someone, it can be a scary thing. love isn’t perfect mark, and i want you to know that. there are moments where you want to scream and rip your hair out, or cry to let it all out.”

the boy nodded in understanding, having a bit of knowledge from all the good breakup songs taylor swift writes about. 

“but it can also change your whole world.” she continued on. “it’s like seeing the world again for the very first time and the colors are more vibrant. it’s like having a permanent reason to be happy, and a reason to stay.” she explained as the mark sat quietly trying to comprehend it all. 

❝ i wanna know know know know, what is love? ❞

the poor boy’s head couldn’t wrap around the thought of you. 

his heart hammered in his chest as he secretly glanced at you, desperately trying to avoid suspicion from fans and his members. you were just too breathtaking, having the canadian looking back for more. 

the moment he first laid eyes on you, it was like an epiphany. you were the answer to all his questions.

so this is what it feels like, mark thinks to himself as he looks back on all the things he’s heard about love. 

the butterflies, the pounding of your heart, the “seeing the world in a whole new perspective”, mark felt everything and as much as he felt excited, he was scared.

as harmless as it sounds, award shows were a risky thing for idols. being surrounded by fans of different groups as well as said groups themselves always seemed to cause a bit of a stir between fans.

between dating rumors and rumors about beef between two idols, anything could happen.

but usually mark would be okay. he’s been doing this for a long time and knew how to behave.

however what he didn’t expect was to see you, the tiny rookie idol from the newly debuted girl group ‘itzy’. 

nct 127’s table was right next to yours which let mark have a clear view of your pretty eye smile as you laughed at something lia had whispered into your ear. your laugh was bubbly and contagious, the boy having to physically stop himself from wanting to laugh too. 

he was panicking, but mark couldn’t tell if it was in a good or bad way. 

❝ what does love feel like? ❞

your breath hitched as you saw the boy sneak glances at you from the corner of your eye.

the mark lee was looking at you, your heart racing as you tried to deny the fact that he was staring you down. there was no way the dude you’ve looked up to your entire trainee life is noticing you, no way at all.  

everyone has heard of mark lee even if you weren’t into kpop. he was just that iconic. 

you’ve been an nctzen since the very beginning, being there for nct u’s debut stage. in fact, nct was the very reason you decided to audition to become an idol in the first place. you looked up to the team but more importantly you looked up to a certain canadian in the group.

originally doyoung was your bias in nct when nct u first came out. but as the years passed by you found yourself more and more intrigued by mark, having him absolutely wreck your bias list.

since then you’ve been a loyal mark stan, even rapping his part in cherry bomb for your audition tape which ultimately led you to become an idol yourself. 

you refused to believe you were in love with the dude, not knowing a single thing about him. there was no way you could love him, not if you’ve never even met the boy.

but your heart seemed to prove you wrong as it beat wildly knowing mark was sitting right there on the table next to you. 

“you okay bubs?” lia asked in a worried tone, leaning in to whisper into your ear. she saw the way your leg bounced in a fast rhythm, knowing you only did that when you were nervous. 

you forced a smile as you hesitantly looked her way, knowing that she could take one look into your eyes and know you were lying. “i'm fine unnie, don’t worry about me.” you replied as sweetly as you could, wishing the elder wouldn’t notice a thing. 

though you two and yeji were the eldest in the group, all being born in the year 2000, you were the baby of the unnie line. lia and yeji knew you the best, having grown up with you after all. 

the girl only gave you a look before taking your hand in hers to give a soft squeeze. “i know you’re lying but i won’t push you. also mark lee from nct 127 is totally checking you out.” lia said, whispering a bit on the last part. she winked as you flushed, looking away in horror. 

-

johnny nudged the boy next to him with a small smirk, clearly seeing the heart eyes he was giving the girl in the table next to them. mark jumped a bit at the feeling, looking at his hyung with confusion.

“so y/n of itzy?” johnny said with a small smile as the younger immediately sat up straight. 

“is it that obvious?” mark whispered back with a hint of fear in his eyes.

if any of the fans were to get a hold of this… the boy could only shiver at the thought. 

johnny’s playful smile dropped a bit at mark’s worried look knowing how he must feel. they were idols after all.

“don’t worry, i only noticed because she was looking back at you too.” he said, mark flushing at the revelation.

“really?” he asked a little out of it. 

“i say talk to her after this?” the elder said, laughing a bit when mark jumped in his seat, immediately saying no. 

❝ will love come to me someday? ❞

“unnie why are you making me stay in the dressing room~” you whined as the end of the award show came along.

you just wanted to go home, your body worn out. not from all the dancing but from the way it viciously pounded in your chest whenever you ever thought about mark. 

lia only smirked in retaliation as she brought a hand up to squish your cheeks. “trust me, you’ll thank me later.” she said as she walked out of the dressing room, bumping into a 6 foot tall boy with a smaller boy behind him. 

“oops sorry.” she said a little playfully, as lia gave a wink to johnny knowing their plan was going accordingly. johnny only gave her a small smile, but if you looked closely you could see the mischief in his eyes. 

“hyung where are we going?” mark asked, a little weirded out by the two’s interaction. johnny only ignored the boy, dragging him by his arm as they walked down the hallway. 

“hyung i swear if this is a prank i’ll-” mark’s words were cut off as the two entered a door, only to see your confused face staring back at him. 

“oh shit.” he cursed under his breath, a little taken aback from how beautiful you were. one whole award show later and you were still as gorgeous as when he first saw you sitting down in the table next to his. 

your confused face quickly turned to an embarrassed one as you noticed the boy, turning another shade of red when you noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

“hi y/n, my name is johnny and this is my band mate mark.” the taller boy said, holding his hand out in a handshake. 

“h-hi i’m y/n.” you stuttered, not expecting to see the boy you’ve been daydreaming about for the past two hours to be right in front of you. 

mark gawked at the sight of you, his mind malfunctioning as the words seemed to get stuck at the tip of his tongue.

“markie right here has something he wants to ask you.” johnny said, pushing the younger in front of him with a grunt. 

this seemed to knock him right out of his trance, a hand coming up to the back of his neck as he stared down at the floor with pink cheeks.

“do you maybe wanna-”

“yes.” you blurted out, a hand covering your mouth in shock. “i-if you were gonna ask if i wanted to hang out sometime, the answer is yes.” you said a little shyly as the boy smiled. 

all this time mark thought he was gonna find love, but maybe love found him instead. 

“i’ll pick you up at 6 tomorrow evening.” mark said with a sweet smile as he took a step back only to be pushed back up again by johnny.

“you don’t even have her number you dumbass.” the elder scolded, disappointed at how dumb the boy was. 

your laughter caught both of the boy’s attention as you put your hand out with a small smile. “you want my number or nah?”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 2: The Middle Of Nowhere]

You are a Russian Grand Duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You hate each other.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution (1917-1923) and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Lots of shouting, if you never learned about the Russian Revolution then here's your mini crash course, references to historical stuff like violence and disease, Kroshka the mule emerges as the only emotionally stable character.

Word count: 4.1k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen @okilover02 @adrenaline-roulette @youngpastafanmug @m-1234 @tensecondvacation @deacyblues @haileymorelikestupid @rogerfuckintaylor @yourlocalmusicalprostitute @im-an-adult-ish @someforeigntragedy @mo-whore

I wake up feeling harder, as if sleeping on the ground with all its stones and cool indifference has taught my spine to straighten, to endure. This is a welcome revelation. I will need to be resilient, for my family and for myself. I also wake determined to set things right with my rescuer. I am a perfectly charming person, Mother and Papa have always said so; I’m not painfully shy like Olga, or aloof like Tati, or rather dull like Maria, and I certainly don’t run around putting frogs in people’s shoes like Anastasia. I make for excellent company. Surely Ben will realize this and we will become inseparable travel companions.

Outside in the overcast brisk morning air, Ben is already busy tacking the mule. He glances over and tosses me an apple. It bounces out of my floundering hands and rolls off into the woods. This is not an auspicious start to the day.

“You’ll still have to eat that,” Ben says. “There’s no extra food. I was only able to ask for as much as I could justify needing myself.”

“Right.” I go fetch the apple—rummaging around in leaves and sticks and shrubs—and take a bite, even though it’s bruised and definitely tastes like dirt. I beam at Ben triumphantly. I am tough! I am daring! I am enchanting! I can pull my own weight on this journey!

Ben doesn’t seem to notice. He pats the mule’s thick brown neck and smiles fondly at her. “How are we feeling this morning, Kroshka? Hmm? Who’s a lovely mule? Who’s going to take us all the way to the Trans-Siberian Railroad without even one measly word of complaint? That’s right, you are! Yes you are!” He lands a smacking kiss on the velvety grey fur of her muzzle.

I attempt polite conversation; more than that, I endeavor to learn about my dashing yet evasive rescuer. “So, tell me Ben, have you worked for Sir Buchanan long?”

“Four years,” Ben replies curtly.

“And you are…” I think of his notebook. “A…writer of some sort for him…?”

“I’m his press attaché.”

“Ah.” I recognize the French word for ‘attach,’ but not its meaning in the context of employment with an ambassador. “I can’t say I know what that entails.”

“I handle Sir Buchanan’s relations with the Russian newspapers. Drafting statements and briefing him on local opinions and the like. And since his health has declined, I find myself delivering some of his particularly confidential correspondence.”

“Oh, I see. And he could spare you for this mission? It seems like a burden that would be better carried by a man with military or exploratory experience.”

“My Russian is passable. And I can tolerate rougher conditions than most.” He points to a pile of clothes he’s laid out on a tree stump. “Those are for you. There’s a stream out that way.” He flicks a thumb towards the east. “Get ready however you need to, but be prepared to leave in fifteen minutes.”

I examine the clothing: plain and practical undergarments, a heavy wool sweater, stockings, boots, and something unexpected. I hold them up with clammy hands. “These are…” I swallow noisily. “Trousers.”

“Yes. They’re travel attire. Comfortable and easy to maneuver in if we need to move quickly.”

“I’ve never worn trousers before.”

“I thought you were amenable to a…a…what did you call it? An adventure. A grand adventure.” He says this melodramatically, like there’s some humor in it. Like he’s mocking me.

“I suppose I am,” I mutter, still scrutinizing the trousers.

“Fifteen minutes,” Ben reminds me sternly. Then he begins to disassemble the tent.

I trudge off through the woods until I find the stream. I clean myself with ice-cold water, drink it down until my teeth ache, change out of my nightgown and into these strange new clothes—Trousers! Mother would lock me in church for a month!—and gaze up into the cloudy, pastel blue sky that peeks between the fingers of the trees. It is very still here, and cold, and deathly quiet. I try to remember the last time I was truly alone, without Mother or Papa or my siblings or servants or guards within shouting distance. There is none that I can remember; perhaps there is none at all. Out here in the Siberian wilderness I feel unmoored from civilization, diminutive, vulnerable, peculiarly inconsequential. I decide I don’t like being alone. By the time I return to our campsite, Ben is ready and waiting beside the loaded cart. His right hand is resting on a clunky metal monster with ‘Olivetti’ written on it.

“I’m a press attaché,” he says with a mischievous grin. “And you’re a typist.”

“A what?”

“You work for Sir Buchanan’s office as a typist. That’s our story, anyway. You came along to assist me during my audience with the former tsar, and now we’re traveling back to Sir Buchanan’s headquarters in Saint Petersburg. So if anyone happens to ask, that’s what you are to tell them. Oh, and you’re British. Your English sounds clean enough.”

“Alright,” I reply, still gaping at the metal monster like a black box with gnashing fangs. “But what is that?”

Ben’s jaw falls open. “You don’t…?” Then he rubs his forehead, sighing deeply. “Jesus Christ. You’ve never used a typewriter. Of course you haven’t. Great. Fantastic.”

“We always write by hand. My penmanship is flawless, Mother saw to that.” She’s still battling with Anastasia, but that’s a war that may go on as long as the one between the sun and the moon.

“Okay. Okay. This works out, actually. Because I’m not going to entertain you all day. So here is your assignment.” Ben slaps the back of what he tells me is a typewriter, and then waves for me to come closer. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and produces a British passport. Every line is filled out except for the name. He slides the paper into the machine and makes some bewildering adjustments. “So, you insert the paper, set the carriage—that’s this roller-type piece here—and type.” He taps forcefully on the keys until two words appear in the blank reserved for the passport holder’s name: Lana Brinkley.

“That’s me?” I ask doubtfully.

Ben smirks, amused. “That’s you.”

“So you could have given me a better name if you wanted to!”

“But then how would you learn humility?” He removes the fraudulent passport, shakes the paper until it dries, folds it into a neat little square, and slips it back into his coat pocket. “If you’re typing a longer message, the typewriter will ding when you’ve reached the end of each line. Then you use the lever to move the paper down, reset the carriage, and resume typing.”

I nod, but without much confidence. This seems complicated.

“You said you wanted a carriage,” Ben teases.

“Yes, one with magnificent draft horses and velvet seats and preferably no less than two servants. Not…whatever that is.”

“Well, if you’re going to pass for a typist, I’m afraid you must learn to type.” He finds me a stack of blank paper in his collection of bags and trunks, and then climbs into the front of the cart as I get into the back. The trousers, I hate to admit to myself, do make it easier to move around, although I’m not sure I approve of how much they accentuate the shape of my body. The thought of Ben looking at me in them gives me a plunging sort of feeling that is half-mortification and half-thrill…not that he has exhibited any interest at all. “Before we go any farther, do you have anything with you that I don’t know about?”

He means things like the heirlooms I have squirreled away in the large steamer trunk: the jewels sewn into my dress, the photograph. I can sense that he wouldn’t want me to have them, although I’m not sure why. In any case, I have no intention of giving them up. The jewels are the only thing of value that I have to trade if we find ourselves in a desperate situation. The photograph is the only string left that connects me back to my family, my home. “No,” I reply primly.

“Good.” He whistles at the mule and she tugs us through the trees and out onto the dirt road that leads, eventually, to the train station. As we ride joltingly along, the creaky cart wheels bumping over every rock and mound and muddy trough, I practice my typing: very slowly at first, and with only my index fingers. I read aloud as I go, gradually picking up speed.

“There once was a German princess born in the Duchy of Hesse. She was very beautiful but very shy. She had a wonderful talent for playing piano, but would run and hide if anyone asked her to perform in public. One day, when she was attending the wedding of her sister, the princess met a prince from a distant kingdom. They were only children, but they instantly knew they had found true love. They snuck off together and carved their names into a window pane. Over the years, each conspired to marry the other. They refused many suitors and wrote each other hundreds of letters. His family did not approve of the princess’s religion and lack of charisma; her family did not approve of the prince’s distant and troubled nation. But at last it became apparent to all that no earthly forces could keep the couple apart. Ten years after their first meeting, the prince and princess were finally married. And they lived joyously and peacefully in each other’s service for the rest of their days.”

Ben lights one of his hand-rolled cigarettes. The smoke doesn’t bother me; on the contrary, it reminds me of Papa smoking his pipe in his study, in the garden, as he read to us by the fireplace, as he danced with Mother in ballrooms back when she could still dance. It reminds me of home. “I’m not sure if you’ll ever give Shakespeare a run for his money, but I’ll admit I’m marginally entertained.”

I smile to myself, sentimental warmth rising in my face. “It’s Papa and Mother’s story.”

“Huh. I didn’t know your people were allowed to marry for love.”

By ‘your people,’ he seems to mean royalty, and there is some derision in his deep voice. “Well, surely duty must come first. But when love can accompany it, that’s a happy coincidence.”

“And what if duty compels you to marry a man who is, say, cruel? Or dreadfully boring? Or in love with another woman? Or who closely resembles a mole-rat?”

I resume my typing with a new exercise. For each letter of the alphabet, I type a French word that begins with it. “I don’t think that sort of thing happens very often.”

“But if it did.”

I shrug, not especially enjoying this topic of discussion. “Then duty comes first, as I said. But I believe most royal couples are perfectly content. At least nine out of every ten.”

“That many!” Ben marvels sarcastically. “Have you ever considered that your own personal experience, as pleasant as it may be, could be coloring your perception of how the world works?”

I ignore him and continue my typing. Attaché for A, bisou for B, croissant for C, doux for D…

After a moment, Ben says: “You aren’t going to regale me with another fairytale? I’m devastated.”

“I’m busy practicing my French now. Please don’t intrude.”

“You speak French as well as Russian and English?” He sounds impressed; for a split second anyway, just long enough for me to catch it like a firefly in my fist.

“And Italian, and Latin. And I’ve just started on Japanese.”

“But no German? That seems like it would be an easier beast to slay.”

“I’ve always purposefully avoided learning it, even though Mother’s family is German. I never envisioned myself marrying a German. I figured Maria could take that bullet. She doesn’t care, she’d marry anyone who could give her a castle and ten babies and a bulldog or two. I would say she was a milkmaid in a past life, but Mother’s heart would stop dead if she thought I subscribed to reincarnation.”

“Not fond of Germans?” Ben asks. “Well, who can blame you. Half the world isn’t fond of them at the moment.”

“I suppose they weren’t so awful before the Great War. But they’re rather boorish, aren’t they? They always sound like they’re angry. Like someone just stole their horse and they’re screaming at them from the front porch to come back or else.” I smile dreamily as I type. “I’ve always fancied the thought of marrying a prince from a glamorous, romantic kingdom. Maybe Italy or Greece. There has even been talk of me marrying Uncle George’s eldest son David. He’s rather beguiling. Tall and slim. Clear blue eyes like a lake. And he’s going to be the king of the British Empire one day, you know. We could holiday together in beautiful, sunny colonies like the Bahamas.”

“You’re still as important as all that? Important enough to make a marriage of that political significance, I mean.” Ben glances back at me and lifts one thick, dark, inquisitive eyebrow. “Seeing as your family doesn’t have a kingdom anymore.”

This is an insensitive thing for him to say. I frown down at the typewriter. “A wife almost always assumes the kingdom of her husband, so why should she require her own? She needs only sound breeding and a suitable temperament. And besides, we might yet return one day.”

Ben twists all the way around to stare at me, the reigns falling out of his hands. Fortunately, the mule seems to know her own way around. “I’m sorry, what?”

“It has been a brutal few years. The Great War, the supply shortages, the bad harvests…the people are frustrated, and understandably so. They lashed out blindly, at those who didn’t deserve it, at us. But the dust will clear. And when it does, I think the Russian people will come to their senses and realize that they want us back. That they need us.”

“Are you insane?” Ben snaps. “Are you utterly brainless? What’s floating around in that skull besides fiction and languages you’ll never use once you’re married off to some prince who only sees you as a broodmare?”

“How dare you! You can’t speak to me like this—!”

“For years, for a bloody decade, Sir Buchanan warned your father about what was coming. He tried to get him to moderate his views, to give the people more voice in government, to stop murdering them when they protested. And when none of that worked and the end was apparent, Sir Buchanan tried to convince your father to abdicate long before he did. Don’t you understand?! None of this needed to happen! Your family could have fled to Britain years ago, before the animosity against your father spread like wildfire across the globe, and Russia could have established their own parliament like Britain’s and negotiated a peace treaty to stay out of the war and none of us would be here now if not for your father’s selfish, pointless obstinacy—!”

“My father is a good man,” I choke out as hot, furious tears burn in my eyes.

“And he was a terrible ruler!” Ben shoots back like artillery. “He ordered protesters to be butchered, he sent untrained boys to die in some other country’s war, he clung to the throne for no one’s benefit but his own—”

“And what about my benefit?” I demand, still weeping, feeling monstrously like a child. “What about my mother’s and my sisters’ and Alexei’s? He must have feared for our futures if we were dethroned and left without any resources, any security, anyplace to call home—”

“He did you no favors,” Ben says harshly. “Half the country—the country that you obviously have not even a rudimentary understanding of—are moderates scrambling to secure the Provisional Government and disentangle themselves from the war while still somehow preserving their dignity and that of the millions of dead soldiers Russia has already laid on the altar. The other half are trying to instigate a wholesale communist revolution. There is no one, no one, who wants the tsar back. And you better pray to God that the communists don’t manage to seize power before King George gets your family out, or your father just might be guillotined on the steps of Saint Basil’s Cathedral.”

I bolt to my feet unsteadily, grip the side of the lurching cart, and leap out onto the dirt road.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Ben shouts after me.

I take off sprinting down the road, the wind whipping my face, sobbing as I run beneath the shadows of trees until my lungs are columns of flames and my legs feel wobbly and boneless. I can hear the pounding of the mule’s hooves approaching, the hurtling of wooden wheels, the slapping of leather reins. I am forced to slow to a vigorous march as my body betrays me, wheezing and aching and as ineffectual as a woman is so often assumed to be. The salacious trousers have come in handy once again. Who would have guessed.

Ben pulls up alongside me, reining in the mule to match my pace. “Hey! Get back in the cart!”

“I’ll walk the rest of the way to the railroad station.”

“It’s 200 more kilometers!”

“See you there.”

Now Ben jumps out of the cart. The mule, perplexed but not rattled, comes to a halt and waits in the middle of the road with her long ears angled in opposite directions. Ben rushes in front of me and leans down until we’re at eye-level, breathing heavily. I can smell smoke on him, and something else too: maybe cologne, maybe soap, maybe aftershave, maybe just the scent of a man in his prime. His lips are pink and full and soft-looking, I notice, as if for the first time. His cheeks are irritated and red from the wind; the ruthlessness of the climate here doesn’t agree with him. It is the only way in which I am stronger than he is. His green eyes are wide and blazing. “Get. In. The. Cart.”

“No,” I whisper, tears all over my face.

“You can’t just run off like that,” he pleads, less angry now. “Where are you going to go? There’s nothing out here except trees and…I don’t know…probably bears and wolves and maybe even Siberian tigers. You can’t get ripped apart by wild animals. Don’t you want to make it to London? To argue for your family’s liberation? They could find no fiercer advocate than you, of that I am convinced.”

“How would you possibly protect me from a bear?”

Ben unbuttons his coat and pulls up his white wool sweater to show me a pistol tucked into the holster clipped to his belt. “Just in case,” he says, smirking crookedly, lowering his sweater again. “Now I am keeping no secrets from you, and you are harboring none from me. We’re even.”

I nod, sniffling, thinking of my jewels and photograph hidden in the steamer trunk. My words are so strained I can barely hear them myself, my hands are trembling; hell, I’m trembling all over. The possibility is unimaginable. “Do you really think they’re going to kill Papa?”

Ben sighs, shaking his head. “No, I don’t,” he replies gently. “I think the Provisional Government will be able to keep the communists in check for now. I think they will leap at the opportunity to ship the former tsar off to Britain without the potential controversy of a trial and execution. And I also think we should get back in the cart and keep moving now.”

“I’m sorry your boss gave you this assignment and now you have to risk your life for a family that you evidently hate,” I lash out like a cornered animal, hissing and brandishing its glinting claws. “For a grand duchess that you hate. This must be an awful inconvenience for you.”

“It’s rather more complicated than that,” Ben says. “There’s some opportunity in it as well.”

Of course: his leather-bound notebook full of observations, his scrawled recollections to one day build into a famed article about our journey. An article full of what he truly thinks about me. I feel suddenly, violently nauseous. I feel horrified.

What happened to the grand adventure that I imagined? Where did it go?

And all at once, I can’t even remember how I pictured this journey unfolding; I can’t conjure up some rose-colored vision of me and Ben falling into an effortless friendship, flirting lightly and innocently, discovering new corners of the earth together, parting ways in London as lifelong confidants. Now I can only see Papa as he murmurs folktales older than Christianity with candlelight dancing on his smiling face, as he chases me and my sisters around the gardens with outstretched arms and sparkling eyes, as he carries Alexei from one room to the next when my brother’s joints are inflamed and excruciating and useless, as he never unburdens his mind to his wife or children but spends long afternoons chopping wood as the sun sinks into the west and the lines in his pale face grow deeper.

He couldn’t be responsible for bloodshed, for mercilessness. He’s not that kind of man. He’s never been that kind of man.

“We really should keep moving,” Ben prompts.

“Fine,” I fling back as I shove by him. I mop my tears away with the sleeve of my wool sweater, climb into the back of the wooden cart, and sit as far as I can from Ben with my bent knees hugged to my chest. I stare silently off into the forest as the mule drags us towards the Trans-Siberian Railroad, towards Moscow and Saint Petersburg and the Baltic Sea and London, towards the conclusion of this tenuous partnership and the redemption of my family. I am looking forward to soon never having to see Benjamin Hardy again, and yet I’m also not; and this is a difficult paradox to put into words of any language.

We don’t stop until it’s almost dusk. Ben hops down from the cart, leads the mule off the road by her bridle (and gives her an encouraging scratch on the forelock when she hesitates), and begins to set up camp in a small clearing encircled by heaps of frost grass. Dinner is loaves of bread again—even more tough and dry than yesterday—and metallic-tasting water from canteens. Dessert is a hand-rolled cigarette for Ben and a handful of honeyberries I found in the bushes for me. And when Ben grapples with the tent, I come over to help him with it just to prove I can.

Ben builds a fire, and we sit wordlessly on opposite sides of it with the reflections of flames in our eyes. Ben jots down today’s thoughts in his notebook, every so often glancing off into nowhere and tapping his chin thoughtfully with the end of his pen, biting his full lower lip absentmindedly as he sifts through the ocean of word in his head to fish out the right one. Meanwhile, I read my copy of Tarzan of the Apes. I stumble across a few English terms I don’t know—quixotic, cartography, constellations, ruminate—but I don’t ask Ben about them.

After a long time, when the moon and stars have emerged bright and ancient in the night sky, Ben closes his notebook and watches me. At first I ignore him. And then, eventually, I can’t anymore.

“What?” I ask irritably, keeping my place in Tarzan of the Apes with my pinky finger, which is nearly numb from the cold.

Ben’s words are calm, restrained, painstakingly chosen. Firelight is fierce and bloody on his face. “I had two infant brothers die of pneumonia, a perfectly preventable illness had they had access to good doctors and proper nutrition and a warm dry home, which they did not. I had a sister die in childbirth because there was no midwife available to attend to her. I have had friends come home from the war with limbs or half their faces missing, a fate which I myself am spared only because of my employment with Sir Buchanan. You have no idea what the world has been through while you were off playing board games and reading novels in greenhouses and lounging on lakeshores with your idyllic little family. You have no idea what life is like for the rest of us. And perhaps that’s not your fault, and it is unjust of me to resent you for it, and I must learn to temper this wrath I’ve been carrying around in my chest since childhood. But it’s still true.”

He stands, clutching his notebook with hands that are red from the savage Siberian wind, and vanishes into the tent.

[inejship]

giving TSC couples a Taylor Swift song that reminds me of them Pt. 1

ts has a lot of songs and the shadowhunters chronicles have a lot of couples so why not :)

1. Blackstairs (Emma and Julian): You Are In Love

Oh my god, backstairs is my absolute no.1 ship and it's only fair I give them one of my personal favorite ts songs. I feel throughout TDA Emma and Julian are figuring out and realizing how much they love each other and this song just fits so perfectly? for example the lyric "One night he wakes strange look on his face. Pauses, then says You're my best friend And you knew what it was, He is in love" AAA IT'S PERFECT?

2. Wessa (Will and Tessa): London Boy

I find it so hilarious that London Boy screams Wessa to me, The song is soft and kind of straightforward about falling in love. A lot of lyrics are about the girl (Tessa here) sort of falling in love with the guy (Will) as he shows her around London and ITS SUCH A CUTE SONG AND FITS THEM SO WELL. Especially the lyric "Like a child when our eyes meet, darling, I fancy you took me back to Highgate, met all of his best mates So I guess all the rumors are true You know I love a London boy" BECAUSE IT COULD BE TALKING ABOUT JEM BEING THE BEST MATE IM CRYING

3. Jessa (Jem and Tessa): Invisible String

We all know how heartbreaking Jessa's story is and THEM ENDING UP TOGETHER ALMOST A 100 YEARS LATER WAS WHAT WE ALL WERE WAITING FOR SO ITS ONLY FIT FOR THEM TO HAVE INVISIBLE STRING. The lyrics are too accurate it's scary, it's like Taylor wrote this for them. (joe and taylor? more like jem and tessa) "Time, wondrous time Gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies And it's cool, baby, with me And isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some Invisible string Tying you to me?" IT'S TOO ACCURATE PLEASE

3. Herongraystair (Will, Jem, and Tessa): New Years Day

I'M SO INCREDIBLY SORRY BECAUSE THIS SONG IS SO SO SAD AND IT FITS TOO WELL BYE I'M CRYING. like the lyric "Please don't ever become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere" IS SO SO SO ACCURATE, will and tessa who loves jem and don't want to forget him after he becomes a silent brother, tessa who doesn't want to forget will after he passes THEN ITS EVEN MORE HEARTBREAKING BECAUSE TESSA WLL OUTLIVE JEM ONE DAY JUST LIKE SHE OUTLIVED WILL. There is this line in the clockwork princess epilogue (buckle up bitches) where tessa cries because she can't remember the exact shade of will's eyes and its too painful

5. Malec (Magnus and Alec): Paper Rings

This is genuinely funny to me because Magnus as we know loves shiny things and it's so in character for him to say "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings" IT'S EVEN BETTER CONSIDERING THEY DO GET MARRIED?? also certain lines like "The moon is high like your friends were the night that we first met" BECAUSE TELL ME THIS DIDN'T HAPPEN, then the line "Kiss you once 'cause I know you had a long night (Oh!) Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright Three times 'cause you waited your whole life (One, two, one two three four!)" BECAUSE MAGNUS HAS BEEN WAITING HIS WHOLE LIFE FOR SOMEONE LIKE ALEC?? PLEASE I WILL BE PASSING AWAY NOW

6. Bridgewood (?) ( Anna and Ariadne): Betty

I really needed to include this because betty is such a gay song and it just fits them like a glove. like "You heard the rumors from Inez You can't believe a word she says" "But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go straight to hell?" "When I passed your house It's like I couldn't breathe" IM SO RUINED AFTER CHAIN OF IRON SO ITS ONLY FITTING I GIVE THEM THIS SONG CASSIE PLEASE THEY BETTER END UP TOGETHER IN COT

--------

this was a long post wow, um reblog for part 2?

also ignore typos, very dyslexic here :)

[kaylorrehabcenter]

Rating Every Song on Fearless Based on How Gay it is

Hello friends! I still have a few song analyses in the pipeline (and one on Lover the album) but today in honor of Fearless (Taylor’s Edition) being announced and Love Story being released in a few hours I thought I’d do something fun to celebrate!

And you know what? Fuck my usual disclaimer, I am the word of god here. Try and change my mind about any of these. I dare you. (I kid I kid this isn’t that serious and you’re free to disagree <3)

1. Fearless 15/10

Everything about this song is so fucking gay oh my god. This isn’t a fruit, this is a whole ass edible arrangement. As a small rural town Gay (my hometown has a population of less that 4,000 and where I’m living now has a population of 2,500) this uh. Hits.

“And I don't know how it gets better than this/You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless”

Y’ALL

The idea of falling in love with someone who makes you less afraid of your homophobic small town…….it’s getting to me.

“My hands shake, I'm not usually this way but/You pull me in and I'm a little more brave/It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something/It's fearless”

This is making me emotional, I'll be honest. I see so much of my friends and my experience in high school in this song. 

This quote I found on genius is from when the album was released on BMR’s website.

“When I wrote ‘Fearless,’ I wasn’t dating anyone. I wasn’t even in the beginning stages of dating anybody. I really was all by myself out on tour and I got this idea for a song about the best first date. I think sometimes when you’re writing love songs, you don’t write them about what you’re going through at the moment, you write about what you wish you had. So, this song is about the best first date I haven’t had yet.”

This just screams baby Tay writing gay folklore to me, about the gay stories she wish she had. Notice how there are no pronouns in this song??? Fruity I’m telling you.

All that to say. I’m crying because the linear note says “I loved you before I met you” and I want to go listen to Long Story Short and cry now.

2. Fifteen 1/10

Objectively pretty straight as she’s singing about her and Abigail’s dating boys in HS. And Taylor got with a senior guy. Good for her I suppose.

Unless he was one of the shitty ones in which case.

“This is life before you know who you're gonna be”

This however, is a cute line and the whole song makes me warm and nostalgic. You can also hear her crying after the line “and Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” which makes me emo and I’m sure will take on new depth after Abigail’s divorce and hurt me even more.

Other highlights that make me sob include.

“When all you wanted was to be wanted/Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now/Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday/But I realized some bigger dreams of mine”

Bigger dreams of hers indeed :’)

(Also how can you say she’s a gold star lesbian when this song exists. She was obviously dating boys in high school and even if you think she’s a lesbian. Comp het is a hell of a drug kids.)

3. Love Story 8/10

Tried to change the ending indeed.

This is THE Taylor Swift song, and maybe it’s the nostalgia talking but damn I still love it. Written because she wanted to change the ending of Romeo and Juliet (how anyone likes RandJ enough to want to rewrite I have no clue.) and/or because her parents didn’t approve of a guy she was seeing. (according to genius, it would’ve been too early for Joe J so it could possibly be Boys Like Girls frontman, his image did clash with hers and they did release some cute songs together. However if you want my take it’s probably folklore about Emily, take for what you will)

This song has very oft gay vibes with the ‘They don’t approve of our love angle!’ but uses male pronouns so points redacted for that. HOWEVER this is a very early use of ~the male perspective~ in Taylor’s songs and for that it deserves all the love.

“ So I sneak out to the garden to see you/We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew/So close your eyes/Escape this town for a little while”

More rural town angst!!!

Nothing gets me more than rural town angst.

“Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel/This love is difficult, but it's real”

Originally the lyric was “this love is different”. Granted I do not remember the source, i’s just lore implanted into my brain, but make of that what you will.

“"Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone/I love you, and that's all I really know/I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress/It's a love story, baby, just say "Yes"”

Marry me Juliet from the male perspective :)

Also worth noting. This is Karlie’s (and Kim K’s lmao) favorite Taylor song which. While basic as hell. Makes this cover sad as hell to this former Kaylor. (thanks @swiftgron-get-married for the tears <3)

Also not to make this about a man AGAIN but the secret message is “Some day I’ll find this” AND SHE DID IM CRYING.

4. Hey Stephen 1/10

The one thing Camilla Cabello and I have in common is loving this song, so I have to live with that for the rest of my life.

This song is very painfully straight.

How can you think this woman is a gold star lesbian.

The only noteworthy thing is that this is one of the few songs she confirms who it’s about. The secret message is “Love and Theft” which is the name of a country music duo who went on to open her Fearless tour. Which, does make me side eye this song a little bit.

Still a cute song.

“Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing/I don't always have to be alone”

5. White Horse 1/10

Oh look. It’s track five. 

You know maybe this is just me being a bitch but in my ranking of track fives this is. Pretty low. Maybe on the bottom.

Like I don’t have a lot to say about it. 

She’s going through it over a guy. He was a cheating dickweazel. 

“'Cause I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale/I'm gonna find someone someday/Who might actually treat me well”

“Try and catch me now, oh/It's too late/To catch me now”

These lines hit though!!

And she found Joe!! Who treats her well!!!! And she isn’t the princess, she’s the prince who dropped her sword and knocked on her door!!! But this time if they come for them she’s ready!!!

Yes I will make every song about Long Story Short <3

6. You Belong With Me 5/10

Ah yes. The other THE Taylor Swift song.

You know. If I went to a high school with a cheerleading squad. And I had a crush on a cheerleader. I would blast this song. So for that it gets a 5/10. Otherwise. Fairly straight and fairly iconic.

7. Breathe 8/10

Well. We know this one is about a woman. (Emily Poe for those not in the know. Ha. A rhyme!) That alone has an 8/10. And it’s the first time she has a featured artist so bonus points for that!

It was nominated for a Grammy and it fucking lost to Jason Mraz. When’s the last time you thought about Jason Mraz.

I will not have Kaylor feels on a fucking Fearless song but damn is it VERY easy.

“Never a clean break, no one here to save me/You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand”

“It's 2 A.M, feeling like I just lost a friend/Hope you know it's not easy, easy for me”

Also this bridge? Goes off. HIGHLY underrated. 

8. Tell Me Why 3/10

You know. Maybe this album isn’t as gay as I once thought.

This song does bop though, not as good as her other angry songs on this album. But I can vibe with this you know. Why are you being an asshole mysterious man.

“You could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day”

This has to be one of baby Tay’s best burns. Damn. 

“Why do you have to make me feel small/So you can feel whole inside?/Why do you have to put down my dreams/So you're the only thing on my mind?”

Men ain’t shit kids. However, bonus points for the shade. 

9. You’re not Sorry 1/10

Ok, ok. Maybe this was a foolish endeavor.

Because yet again we have a very straight song. A good song. That was on Taylor’s episode of CSI. But oh dear. Very straight. Gets a measly one point. We started this post off so very very gay but damn. We seem to be nearing the end on a very straight note.

10. The Way I Loved You 20/10

Hey Remember what I said about this album being very straight.

WELL THAT WAS A LIE.

Is this a comphet album or am I projecting.

This is one of my favorite baby gay Taylor songs. Her masterful use of pronouns (he is sensible! And so incredible! And all my single friends are jealous! But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, when it was two am and I was cursing your name!) makes the other person she’s singing about completely vague, while we know she isn’t happy with whichever guy she’s dating.

Mayhaps an early reaction to PRomances?

Either way this song is so good, truly an underrated gay gem I mean. Look at it.

“Breaking down and coming undone/It's a roller coaster kind of rush/And I never knew I could feel that much/And that's the way I loved you”

AND THE BRIDGE. Do all of her gay songs just have kickass bridges?

“He can't see the smile I'm faking/And my heart's not breaking/'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all/And you were wild and crazy/Just so frustrating/Intoxicating, complicated/Got away by some mistake and now…”

Damn. I’m imaging this with 2020 vocals and fucking ascending.

Also please watch the live performance of it from the Fearless tour. It’s such a damn shame this got cut from the movie and some woman in the front row is wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone is holding up those cameras everyone had to have before smartphones. Taylor is being endearing. It’s a good time.

11. Forever and Always 6/10

Bonus points for the ~drama~ of it all. Added last minute to the album? The iconic throwing of the chair in live performances?? All of it very dramatique and for that we stan.

Still pretty straight.

Also Joe Jonas responded to the song and why do I find his response so damn funny. “It’s part of being a musician, I guess. You write songs about each other.”

This is another song where the idea of Taylor’s grown up vocals on this is………..whew

12. The Best Day 0/10

This gets zero points because it’s about her literal mom.

Still makes me cry.

God bless Andrea Swift indeed

13. Change 13/10

We start the official tracklist with a gay song. We end it with a gay song.

We will ignore that it was originally written for Scott and BMR and instead induct it into the hall of gay pride anthems, as it should be. 

“We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found/They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared/You can walk away, say we don't need this/But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this”

“This revolution, the time will come/For us to finally win/And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah”

The music video is cringe though lol

14. Jump then Fall 10/10

This song is gay because I choose it to be. <3

Like. Picture baby Taylor writing this song and playing it on her guitar to a girl she has a crush on telling her that she’ll protect her and they’ll be safe and in love and happy together. Gah, maybe I’m ~projecting~ but this sweet ass song always gets me and is EASILY in my top five Taylor songs. Super underrated and hecking cute. 

“We're on the phone and without a warning/I realize your laugh is the best sound/I have ever heard”

Like. Look at this shit.

“I watch you talk, you didn't notice/I hear the words but all I can think is/We should be together”

Tell me this is about the first time you get a crush on a girl and she’s your best friend and she’s amazing and beautiful and you realize you kinda want to kiss her and you hope she wants to kiss you too.

“I had time to think it oh, over/And all I can say is come closer/Take a deep breath and jump then fall into me”

And she’s the Romeo who's going to protect her!!!!! She’s the knight in shining armor in this song and I love that for her??

“The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet/I'll catch you, I'll catch you/When people say things that bring you to your knees/I'll catch you/The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry/But I'll hold you through the night until you smile”

I won’t divulge into full on analysis here because. This is what this post is about but PLEASE listen to this song more. It’s such a gay little gem.

15. Untouchable 9/10

How does she make a cover sound gay.

It sounds so gay.

“You got to come on, come on, say that we'll be together/Come on, come on, little taste of heaven”

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay

16. Forever and Always Piano Version 1/10

This song gets 1/10 because I don’t like it. There. I said it.

17. Come in With the Rain 3/10

I can see why this is a bonus track. It doesn’t hit me as much as the other songs on the album.

But damn if I don’t want to scream sing this one driving down a high way.

18. Superstar 7/10

You can’t tell me this song is about a man. I simply won’t entertain the idea.

You cannot prove to me that this song is about a man. There is not a male pronoun in sight. 

>:)

19. The Other Side of the Door 6/10

Is this song about having a fight about being in the closet? Probably not. Will my gay little brain make it about that? Yep!

And that, funky little queer pals, is my gay rating of every Fearless song. Like and subscribe, #t3atmidnight