#song: the lakes by taylor swift

[mothmanavenue]

take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die, i don’t belong, and my beloved neither do you

[evermoredeluxe]

Taylor performing I Hate It Here/the lakes as the surprise song on piano

- The Eras Tour in Cardiff, Wales on June 18, 2024 (x)

[theysaidspeaknoww]

I want auroras and sad prose...

[andichoseyou]

The Eras Tour surprise songs parallels

June 18, 2024—Cardiff, Wales: I Hate It Here / the lakes (mashup)

[alasforher]

“Alex,” she says. “He likes you. He’s freaking out. You’re gonna have to decide how you feel about him and do something about it. He’s not in a position to do anything else.”

but this is me swallowing my pride standing in front of you, saying sorry for that night, and i go back to december

‘But he thinks of Henry, and, oh. // He thinks about Henry, and something twists in his chest, like a stretch he’s been avoiding for too long.’

[edenblossom5]

so take me to the lakes, i hate it here, so take me to the lakes

[night-lie]

swan lake (taylor's version)

[chloe-or-sam-or-sophia-or-marcus]

2 AM, here we are See your face, hear my voice in the dark We're a crooked love in a straight line down Makes you wanna run and hide But it made us turn right back around ➪ Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry I'm setting off, but not without my muse

Performed together at The Eras Tour | Chicago N1

[annakendrickisntstraight]

These Taylor Swift songs are theirs

Timed on my favourite parts of each song

[taylorswifttournament]

[your-darling-gaze]

When you are young, they assume you know nothing... ___________________

___________________

We always walked a very thin line, Never learned to read my mind, Couldn't even see the signs, I gave so many signs..

If my wishes came true, I could have been you...

I knew you'd haunt all of my what ifs, the smell of smoke would hang around this long, but I knew everything when I was young...

Remember when I pulled up and said 'Get in the car..', Cancelled my plans just in case you called, Back when I was livin' for the hope of it all, to live for the hope of it all...

Was so ahead of the curve, that the curve became a sphere, fell at the back of the class, that's how I ended up here, pouring out my heart to a stranger but I didn't pour the whiskey, I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying...

But I'm still a Believer and I don't know why, and I've never been a natural, all I do is try, try, try...

Because the greatest films of all time were never made...

And you're the hero flying around, saving face And if I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? Cursing my name, wishing I stayed Look at how my tears ricochet...

And I can go anywhere I want Anywhere I want, just not home...

I didn't have it in myself to go with grace And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves...

I'm only 17, I don't know anything, but I know I miss you.

-Folklore and The Tortured Poets Department T.S ______________________

[flosuwfixia]

The Eras Tour Cardiff surprise song mashup: i hate it here × the lakes

[theysaidspeaknoww]

And the stars are stunning...

[andichoseyou]

eras tour surprise songs parallels

6/2/23—Chicago, Illinois: I Wish You Would / the lakes

[loverhymeswith]

I am thinking of a fic with Tommy to “the lakes” by Taylor Swift. Maybe the reader is trying to escape the criminal lifestyle, and essentially is begging Tommy to come away with her to live in the country away from all the danger… But he just can’t seem to let go. There’s a sort of comfort in the chaos for him. Lots of angst I think.

Calamitous Love

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x F!Reader

Summary: Enough is enough. You present Tommy with an ultimatum.

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: Pure angst, swearing

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon. This was heavily inspired by season six. Thank you @a-reader-and-a-writer for the beta ❤️

In the early hours of the morning, you watch him leave.

Dense fog shrouds the grounds of the Arrow House estate, but amidst the dull, muted grey, the pitch black stallion is a dark silhouette, harsh hooves crunching over the gravel as it gallops along the length of the driveway and beyond, towards the rolling Warwickshire hills.

With a heavy heart, you relinquish your vigil at the window, the linen curtains falling back into place as you sweep across the bedroom, concern quickening your pace.

Like the consumption currently ravaging the nation, sleep’s reluctance to claim your husband is contagious, his torment and madness spreading through the cursed house and infecting all those in its path.

You’d fought again, this evening. The same old story. How much more was he prepared to lose before enough was enough? Couldn’t he just rest?

But these days, getting a sensible response out of Thomas Shelby is akin to drawing blood from stone. 

You dress in darkness. Riding boots and a woollen coat to protect you from the autumn chill. Silent footsteps along the hallway and whispered words through Frances’ door; a harried plea for her to watch over the children. It pains you to leave them, but - one way or another - this will be the last time.

It’s quiet outside as dawn prepares to break over the crest of the hills; a stillness in the air, charged and expectant, even beyond the blanket of fog. The stable boys won’t report for duty for another hour, but you can saddle your own horse or better still, ride bareback. Years of banquets and ballrooms haven’t yet turned you soft. 

You take the white mare; the gentle creature is your favourite. Beneath her calm exterior, there’s a wildness threatening to escape. Her pace might be no match for Thomas’ horse, but she’s a kindred spirit, requiring no instruction as she breaks into a gallop and follows in the black stallion’s wake. 

The wind whips your face as you ride across the foothills and dales, mist and drizzle plastering strands of damp hair to your brow. Tears stream down your burning cheeks as you clutch the reins tightly. When was the last time you felt so alive? So free?

It was long before politics. Before the Italians and the Irish. Before bookmaking and Billy Kimber. Before the war.

Before death had set up camp outside your front door.

The sun has risen by the time you reach him, rays of watery light escaping through the silver haze. Perched atop the rocky outcropping, your husband is a lone figure, surveying his kingdom from the mountain peak. You know why he came here: isolation; solitude; remorse.

As soon as you dismount, your mare trots off in search of the stallion. She has no desire to bear witness to this conversation. Sensible girl. 

White smoke curls around Tommy’s head as you approach, his grey cap is discarded on the rock face along with a handful of spent cigarettes. The subtle shift of his shoulders is the only indication he is aware of your presence.

The words, well-rehearsed despite your fervent reluctance to speak them over the last ten years, catch in your throat, but you can put this off no longer. It’s now or never.

“I’m leaving, Thomas.” Your voice breaks, just as you knew it would, each bitter syllable burning your tongue.

Any sense of relief you hoped to feel is unforthcoming; the ever-present tightness in your chest remains. You’re not sure what you expected… something rather than nothing. Tangible evidence of the weight of your words. But perhaps, like the consequences of a vengeful curse, patience is in order.

Tommy stubs out his cigarette but makes no move to turn around. Maybe you should have been brave enough to face him while you spoke, but it’s easier this way. Those blue eyes get you every damn time.

“You came all the way out here just to tell me that, eh?” 

His tone is entirely devoid of emotion, just as it has been for the last seven months. Even when you fight, he doesn’t get angry anymore. Once upon a time he would trade you, blow for blow. Now, he simply walks away.

“You can’t shut the door on me out here.”

Slowly, as if it’s causing him great pain to do so, Tommy looks over his shoulder. His cold stare is as lifeless as his words. “What do you want me to say? Sounds like your mind's made up.”

You didn’t come here for an argument. The fight finally left you last night when he didn’t follow you to bed. Instead of arming yourself with more words, as ineffectual as the weapons that have tried to kill him over the years, you slip out of your boots and pad barefoot across the wet grass. 

Kneeling on the ground before him, you take his face between your hands, his skin as chilled as your own. You force yourself to look at him. To really see him. Glacial eyes, rung by dark shadows, have lost their sparkle; his cheeks are sharper, his chapped lips drawn tight and his strong brow furrowed. A shade of the man you once knew. 

“What happened to you, my love?”

Tommy looks away, freeing himself from your touch, and you force yourself to ride out the heart-stopping wave of hurt alone. You both know the answer. Some things don’t need to be spoken out loud.

“I’m leaving,” you repeat, more softly this time, reaching for his hands, “but I don’t want to go without you.”

The truth hangs heavy in the air between you. And it is the truth. Despite the constant pain… despite the insurmountable grief that his actions have wrought, you still want him. You can’t bear to imagine life without him; Thomas Shelby, your calamitous love.

Tommy allows you to lace his fingers together with your own. He has the courtesy, at least, to meet your gaze when he responds.

“There is business.”

You squeeze his hand. “Fuck business. I don't belong here Tommy, and neither do you.”

“You think I don’t know that, eh?” A cocktail of sorrow and anger spills through the cracks in his words. “You think I don’t hear that every minute of every day? The workers say I’ve betrayed them. The rich will never accept me as one of their own.”

“Since when did Tommy Shelby ever feel the need to fit in?”

With your free hand, you stroke his cheek. His eyes shutter as he leans into your touch, his warm breath visible as he exhales into the frigid air. “I’m trying to make a difference.”

“Is changing the world really worth risking your family?” 

You don’t wait for him to answer. Your knees are straining against the cold ground and you climb into his lap instead, surprised when he doesn’t resist. It’s been too long since he held you this close and you welcome the warmth of his arms as they wrap around your waist.

“I’m not cut out for this. For any of it,” you tell him calmly as he tucks you beneath his chin. “I’ve stood by your side through all of it. I thought I could handle whatever they had to throw at us. The vendettas, the Russians. We’ve survived so much. But I don’t want to just survive anymore, Tommy. I want to live.”

You feel the weight of his lips as he kisses your head. “I need time. Just a bit longer, eh. And then it will all be over. I promise.”

You’ve heard it all before and God, how you wish you could believe him. You’ve no doubt he means it, and maybe it is the truth. Maybe this time, it will stick. 

“But at what cost?” You wonder aloud. Because Tommy knows as well as you do that there’s always a price. A payment demanded in blood. 

Shelby blood.

“If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

You untangle yourself from his embrace, all the better to face him. You need to be brave enough now. You need him to understand.

“I know you think you have no limitations. Maybe you don’t. Maybe they’re right about you, after all. Maybe you are a god, or the devil himself, Tommy Shelby. But I can’t stand by and wait around to find out.”

After you’ve allowed your words to sink in, you press your lips - now unburdened - to Tommy’s.  Recognition, realisation, flashes across his face - this is one battle he will never win. Hands fisting in your hair, he pulls you closer, sealing your goodbye with a feverish kiss. 

When you eventually ride back through the valleys and mountains, you are alone.

Tommy Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @crysxtal @simpforbuckyb @shynovelist @amberpanda99 @globetrotter28 @iammrsrogers @dragonsondragons @butterfly-lover @sunshineyourethebesttime @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake @breezy2and2freezy @fia-thefirst @dreamy-caramel @trixie23