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jxsterr · 5 months

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back at it again but this time i’m worked up thinking about zelink and sleeping as a way to deal with all of the trauma of immediate post calamity.

because, realistically, they are both going to be beyond exhausted. that fight took everything they had within them and more—link had been preparing for it for months on end without so much as a proper night’s rest, and zelda had been slaving away for the better part of a century using every ounce of energy within her to keep this beast at bay. so it’s pretty reasonable that the first thing the pair of them are going to yearn for is a bed and some damn good sleep now that blood moons won’t be knocking on the window every few days.

but just hear me out. for the first couple of days going on weeks link’s only priority is making sure zelda is okay. he cooks for her, makes sure she’s drunk enough water, and keeps the bedsheets clean and comfortable for her to collapse into them whenever she wants. she’s essentially bedbound for the first week, only ever able to really sit up to eat for a bit before the waves of exhaustion call for her to come crashing back down against her pillow—whether or not she wants to. she’s in no fit state to do anything, bless her, and he recognises that. he’s exhausted beyond reason himself but someone has to be the one sat beside her bed, ready to soothe the night terrors that inevitably creep their way into her unsuspecting mind. he doesn’t really care either. the woman who has haunted everything he’s come across in this world, whose presence has touched almost every memory he can conjure up, whose spirit he just can’t seem to shake because he knows there’s something there, a reason as to why he can’t help but heed her call no matter what he does, has just returned to him. the only surviving remnant of his past, the only face he so desperately wanted to see smile again for reasons he couldn’t dig up—of course nursing her back to health is his first priority.

but she worries about him too, about her knight turned friend who just won’t stop doing things for her despite the fact that she can see the very consequences of his fatigue etched deep into his skin. she wants so desperately for him to stop for a moment and sit with her and let her do something in amongst it all. he’s so much lighter than he used to be before he died but by hylia herself has he not shed the skin of a warrior. he laughs more, talks with a little less restraint, and pulls out all sorts of ridiculous things he’s accrued across his travels for her to marvel at while sat up in bed—all for shadows to have set so deeply under his eyes and his face to have lost a little bit of that roundness she’d grown so fond of. she can see how much he needs to sleep too, to rejuvenate again even though he would simply argue that all he’s done is sleep. she sees it when she peers over the loft banister and finds him, face against arms, asleep at the kitchen table, or when she wakes up and realises he’s fallen asleep sat on the floor with his head against the mattress again and all she can do is feel guilt that she has his bed and not him.

so one day she has enough. she waits until she’s settled into bed with him on a stool at her side, book in hand, otherwise he’ll fall asleep himself, and she plucks it unceremoniously from his hands and discards it on the bedside table. she waits until he looks at her thoroughly bewildered for her to finally muster up the courage to say, “i need you to sleep, link. i see how exhausted you are, i see how much you push yourself. i feel awful for being the only one in this bed, so please, do me a favour, and sleep beside me,” and stares at him with enough conviction to move mountains that her own eventually concedes and climbs in next to her.

it’s nothing more than two bodies sleeping next to one another for the first few days, but it’s enough that it makes a visible impact on the pair of them. zelda sleeps better, more soundly, with a considerable dip in the number of night terrors, while link himself finally just sleeps for the first time in what feels like years. it does them wonders. so much so, in fact, they sleep away the first two days entirely. link wakes up, groggy, and turns over with the intention of getting out of bed because goddess knows what time it is and she probably needs something to eat—but a sleep-ridden hand moves quick enough to land on his shoulder with something mumbled about ‘don’t leave’ and it’s so sincere and desperate that he gives in and turns back over, only for said hand to only still once it nestles itself against the palm of his hand. he’s too drowsy to even think much of it so he just curls his hand around hers in return until that signature hum of hers rings out to signify that her wants have been quelled.

it continues like that, small increases in physical affection, until it’s the norm to absolutely entangle themselves in one another. until zelda is able to do more around the house but potters down the loft stairs in search of him to tug gently at his arm and tell him that she’s tired—a silent ask to come to bed with her even if it’s the middle of the day—and he obliges every time. it’s nice, being this useless to the world, enough where they can gather as much of themselves as they need to by merely sleeping the days away. until their mornings are signified by the raise of the moon and the slow bleed of pinks and oranges into the sky signalling their retreat to bed.

every nap goes the same, too. zelda scoots herself into the inner side of the bed and lays with arms outstretched, waiting for her knight to come clambering in between them so she may wrap them tightly around his warm body and pull him close until his face is nestled deeply into her chest, protecting him the way she’s always wanted to. she may not be able to wield a sword, but she can protect his open heart for as long as her hand weaves through his locks until she feels his body go slack against her. she likes her corner, he likes the safety of her arms, it works perfectly.

impa doesn’t appreciate just how long it’s taken them to realise they’ve been sleeping away the days for over a month now, and thus are visiting late, but it’s hard to object when her princess is sparkling and link looks more like himself than he ever has.

#zelink analysis #long post my bad #hello im back again with the sickness #this time its trauma coping flavoured #zelda x link #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #loz link #link #loz zelda #zelda and link #princess zelda #zelink #zelda tears of the kingdom #botw totk #breath of the wild

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likeadevils · 1 year

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Speak Now Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Speak Now in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also added a few other songs she wrote while writing Speak Now and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order or this playlist of her entire discography.

Due to a surprising amount of digital decay and her life not being highly documented yet, exact dates are bit harder to come by then they are with following albums, but you can still find a few! I’ve added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date:

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but everything points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices)

More notes: I will probably be editing it as information about vault songs and new details about old songs get come out, so it probably won’t be finished until July, so check back in with this post and/or follow me if you want updates. Most tweet dates come from crawling through the wayback machine, but if you want further sourcing, feel free me an ask/dm.

Without further ado...

Sparks Fly: Late 2006 (Inferring)

Taylor opened up for Jake Owen on October 31, 2006 In Portland, Oregon (the secret message for the song), and wrote Sparks Fly about the experience shortly after. I’ve seen a few second hand sources say she wrote it on the airplane ride back to Nashville later that same night, but I can’t find Taylor herself saying that, so it might just be an old fandom legend, or the source has been lost to digital decay, or I just haven’t looked hard enough. She first performs the song in May 29, 2007.

Haunted: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "Haunted" is about the moment that you realize the person you're in love with is drifting and fading fast. And you don't know what to do, but in that period of time, in that phase of love, where it's fading out, time moves so slowly. Everything hinges on what that last text message said, and you're realizing that he's kind of falling out of love. That's a really heartbreaking and tragic thing to go through, because the whole time you're trying to tell yourself it's not happening. I went through this, and I ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing this song about it.

February 17, 2009: Tweets "It's 3:58 am in London.. And I accidentally fell asleep at 6:30 pm, so now I'm wide awake and have no idea what to do. Write a song?"

It’s possible that this was what Taylor was referring to when she said she “ended up waking up in the middle of the night and writing [Haunted]”, but it’s also very possible that Taylor didn’t write a song on February 17, and waking up in the middle of the night and writing a song is not a rare occurrence in Taylor’s life, so one tweet doesn’t really prove anything.

March 13, 2009: Tweets "A day off in Sydney. Drove two hours out of the city and spent the day on the beach. Wrote a chorus you'll hear on the next record. :)"

Pure speculation, but I think she was working on Mr. Perfectly Fine. It was created in 2009, and in my opinion, of the possible songs it has the most notable chorus.

March 19, 2009: Posts on Myspace “I’m wiped out. I’ve been in the studio all day ( I know, I know.. We JUST put out a new album. I think I have a problem, I cannot stop writing songs.) It’s so much fun knowing that you can take your time, because you have like a year and a half to make something you’re really proud of. I love recording a few songs, waiting a few months, recording a few more.. Instead of devoting a few weeks to “record the album” and then it’s just done. I like dragging it out, that way you can be meticulous about every detail. Daydream about different ways to put the songs together, and then take them apart. I’m pretty obsessed with the whole process. So needless to say, it was good to be back in the studio with my redheaded producer who I missed terribly.”

If This Was A Movie: April 2009 (Inferring)

Taylor has literally never talked about this song, but April would be six months after and Joe Jonas broke up in late September/early October 2008.

April 24, 2009: Taylor plays in Jonesboro, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [likely Enchanted], that would happen again in Boston [likely Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

May 23, 2009: Taylor records Half Of My Heart with John Mayer

On March 1, 2009: John Mayer tweeted: “Waking up to this song idea that won’t leave my head. 3 days straight now. That means it’s good enough to finish. It’s called Half of My Heart and I want to sing it with Taylor Swift. She would make a killer Stevie Nicks in contrast to my Tom Petty of a song.” On May 23, John Mayer tweeted "I couldn't get Taylor Swift on my record so I found the world's greatest impersonator, Laura Jacksheimer" with a picture of Taylor.

Superman: Spring 2009 (Speculation)

This could have been written any time in 2009, but due to it's general sound and the following quote, I’d guess it was written sometime in spring, when her and John Mayer first started working together. Taylor: “This was a guy that I was sort of enamored with, as usual. This song got its title by something that I just kinda said randomly in conversation. He walked out of the room, I looked over at one of my friends and said, ‘Man, It’s just like watching Superman fly away.’”

May 29, 2009: Posts on Myspace “Tomorrow, after the performance on the Today show, I’ll fly back to Nashville and record a lot of new songs I’ve written in the last few weeks. I’m really excited about that.” (She also posts "Tonight I went shopping at Top Shop in New York with the band. I got purple shoes. I’m really excited about the purple shoes, and I just needed to tell someone. I got purple shoes. Ok. That’s done." Which. If I had a nickel for everytime Taylor teased her new album by posting about shoe colors I'd have two nickels, which isnt a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.)

June 4, 2009: Posts on Facebook "In the studio. I don't know whose computer I'm using. Pssh.. Such a rebel right now.."

June 9, 2009: Tweets (about recording Thug Story) "If I said I was in the studio with T-Pain, would you believe me?"

Better Than Revenge and Let’s Go (Battle): June 2009 (Inferring)

These were probably written sometime between June 12, when the Jonas Brothers released “Much Better”, and July 1, when Taylor posted on Myspace: “What else is new.. Recording a bunch of new songs. Lots of new things to write about…..”

Last Kiss: 2009 (Unknown)

Taylor: "The song "Last Kiss" is sort of like a letter to somebody. You say all of these desperate, hopeless feelings that you have after a breakup. Going through a breakup you feel all of these different things. You feel anger, and you feel confusion, and frustration. Then there is the absolute sadness. The sadness of losing this person, losing all the memories, and the hopes you had for the future. There are times when you have this moment of truth where you just admit to yourself that you miss all these things. When I was in one of those moments I wrote this song."

July 22, 2009: Tweets "Hanging with my producer Nathan, discussing the next adventure" and then in a separate tweet "...album #3."

Never Grow Up: Fall 2009 (Speculation)

Lover Diary Nathan Chapman: "The song 'Never Grow Up' is just she singing and I on acoustic guitar. We recorded ourselves live. That song probably happened in two hours." This could’ve been written at any time in 2009, but I put it here because she bought her Nashville apartment sometime before October.

September 8, 2009: Tweeted "Last night in nash before heading out tomorrow for 4 shows, then VMA's. But right now I can't put the guitar down."

September 13, 2009: VMAs Incident

Enchanted: September 15, 2009 (Confirmed)

On September 15, Taylor attended an Owl City Concert in New York Taylor: "It was about this guy that I met in New York City, and I had talked to him on email or something before, but I had never met him. And meeting him, it was this overwhelming feeling of: I really hope that you're not in love with somebody. And the whole entire way home, I remember the glittery New York City buildings passing by, and then just sitting there thinking, am I ever going to talk to this person again? And that pining away for a romance that may never even happen, but all you have is this hope that it could, and the fear that it never will. I started writing that in the hotel room when I got back. Because it just was this positive, wistful feeling of: I hope you understand just how much I loved meeting you. I hope that you know that meeting you was not something that I took lightly, or just in passing. And I think my favorite part of that song is the part where, in the bridge, it goes to sort of a stream of consciousness of ‘Please don't be in love with someone else/Please don't have somebody waiting on you.' Because at that moment, that's exactly what my thoughts were. And it feels good to write exactly what your thoughts were in a certain moment.”

September 26, 2009: Taylor plays in Little Rock, Arkansas, and possibly writes a song: "I'd get my best ideas at 3:00 AM in Arkansas, and didn't have a co-writer around and I'd just finish it. And that would happen again in New York [Enchanted & Back To December], that would happen again in Boston [Long Live], that would happen again in Nashville." (x)

October 17, 2009: Tweets "Travis: you look so out of it. Me: I'm writing a song in my head. Travis: oh, I apologize. I didn't realize you were working."

November 30, 2009: Tweets "If I had a dime for every time my producer and I blurt out the same thing at the same time, followed by an awkward, uncoordinated high five..."

Ours: December 6, 2009 (Inferring)

Myspace Post on December 6: “I just got back to Nashville this morning after being in LA all week. Today I was out and about and in the studio all day” Taylor: "I wrote this when I was about to turn 20. I was in a relationship I knew people wouldn't approve of, and it was just a matter of time before everyone found out. When you're first getting to know someone, it's a fragile time, and then you add newspapers and magazine covers and it can get kind of rough. I wanted to have this song to play for him when it got difficult. Singing it for him was one of the sweetest moments I can remember."

December 22, 2009: Tweets "I was writing a song and my pen fell into the piano. Still trying to figure out if I should do anything about this."

January 2010: Starts polishing up the demos made in 2009 into fully produced tracks

Billboard: "Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce." Nathan Chapman: "We stripped it down and made the demos first. Taylor came to my studio and I played all the instruments on the demos, and because I have a good vocal booth, her demo vocals ended up being the vocals you hear on the record. After finishing the demos, we went out to different studios, and tried different combinations of engineers and musicians to replace some of the elements of my demos, mostly the programmed drums, and to do additional overdubs. [...] A pop artist would probably release what we'd done after five hours, but country artists don't want to hear programmed drums, they don't want to hear fake stuff. So once we had recorded the demos, we would book whatever studio we wanted for each song, to replace the drums, in many cases the bass, and to add whatever overdubs we envisioned, like fiddle, keyboards, percussion and strings. After we got the demos right, we opened it up and allowed ourselves to spend money and cut a big record." Taylor tweets on January 11: "Studio-ness with all the same boys who played on Fearless" and on January 13: "More recording. So excited. So excited. So excited. See, I said that three times. Once for every album we've made in this studio."

January 13, 2010: Posts on Myspace “Thank you January. I have had this month off. I have walked on snow-covered grass and discovered new coffee shops and laughed hysterically with friends about things that probably weren’t technically funny. I’ve written songs on napkins and sat at a giant table with my whole family on my mother’s birthday, all of us in one place for the first time in too long. I’ve gotten to take what has happened to me and process it to my full capability, and celebrate it the way it deserved to be celebrated. I’ve made new music. I’ve gone over the memories and jumped up and down with my producer and floated around with nothing on my schedule other than just appreciating what my life has somehow turned into. [...] Getting back in the studio with the same guys I trust and know and love.. (right, the pointing one: my producer Nathan Chapman) (Left, the waving one: Bass extraorinaire, Tim Marks. Clearly marked on his road case.) [...] Nick Buddha is in charge of the drums.”

February 22, 2010: Posts on Myspace "I’ve been writing lots of songs"

February 13, 2010: Writes in her diary "I’ve been obsessing over the new album. I always do that until it’s just right. I don’t know if I have the formula just right for this one yet. I know there are great songs. I just need to figure out the strands that bond them together into a great album. And I will obsess until it’s there. This album, any album, is the next 2 years of my life. It has to be more than amazing. It has to be great enough to keep my attention for 2 years."

Mine: March 10-12 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:17): "I wrote Mine somewhere on the road, I think in Texas, actually." Nathan Chapman: "The demo for 'Mine' apparently took less than five hours to record, and sounded, according to Chapman, "almost identical to the record. After that we worked on the track for another four months, off and on, and spent $30,000 to make sure it sounded perfect in the real world."" Taylor: "This song is the first single because it has this…there was this moment between Nathan and I, my producer, when I brought this song in and when we made this demo in one day in his basement and we just kinda looked at each other and we were like, "This is it. This is the one. All of the times that I've had "The Moment" with songs of "This is the one," it's been a good call, so I'm hoping for the best on this one. Wish me luck." Scott Borchetta: "Mine" was a turning point in the album’s development. Swift and Chapman had begun recording new songs almost as soon as "Fearless" was released. The two cut demos in his basement studio and would only take those songs to larger facilities once they felt they had an emotional foundation in the basic tracks. Still, it wasn’t until early 2010 when the album truly began to coalesce. Swift presented "Mine" to Borchetta in his office [...] "We probably played that song four or five times," Borchetta recalls. "I’m jumping around playing air guitar, she’s singing the song back to me, and it was just one of those crazy, fun, Taylor teen-age moments."

March 13, 2010: Taylor records Mine, brings it to Scott Borchetta, and says she’s done with TS3

Scott Borchetta: "I said, ‘Keep going,’ [...] She kind of looked at me like, ‘You’re challenging me.’ And I said, ‘Yeah. You’ve found true north here. Keep going.’ " Taylor: “During Speak Now, when I went to (label head) Scott Borchetta and said, 'The album’s finished,’ he said, 'No, it’s not – you need to keep writing.’” (Right after playing in Texas, Taylor leaves for a vacation in the Bahamas, meaning Taylor likely had about a day in Nashville between the two trips).

Innocent: Late March 2010 (Inferring)

Billboard: “It was some time in the period after that challenge — between February and June — that Swift wrote “Innocent,” her response to the Kanye West incident.” Taylor: “Some songs take 30 minutes to write, and some take six months, which was the case with “Innocent.” When things affect me intensely and really hit me hard, it can take a while to figure out what I think about it and what to say about it.” (March would be just over 6 months since the VMAs).

March 24, 2010: Taylor goes lunch with Taylor Lautner and both of their publicists, inspiring Back To December.

Taylor: Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."

Speak Now: Early April, 2010 (Inferring)

On April 3, Taylor attended the wedding of Josh Farro as Hayley Williams (who is Josh's ex) plus one. That day she also tweeted: ""Nathan you smell really good! Is that a new cologne?" "Thanks! Actually it's a two in one shampoo and soap. From Dial." My producer rules." implying she was in the studio. The conversation below could have happened any day after the VMA awards in September, when Hayley first reached out to Taylor, but I think Taylor probably wrote the song fairly close to naming the album after it. Taylor: "This song was inspired by one of my friends who was telling me about her childhood sweetheart, crush guy. They were kind of together in high school and went their separate ways, and it was kind of understood that they were gonna get back together. Then, she one day comes in and tells me he's getting married. He had met this girl who was just this mean person who made him completely stop talking to all of his friends, cut off his family, had him like so completely isolated. And I just, kind of randomly, was like, "So, you gonna speak now?" She was like, "What do you mean?" And I was like "Oh, you know, like storm the church, speak now or forever hold your peace? I'll go with you. I'll play guitar. It would be great." She was just kind of laughing, and later on I just was wrapping my mind around that idea of how tragic it would be if someone you loved was marrying somebody else. Later I had a dream about one of my ex-boyfriends getting married, and it just all came together that I needed to write this song about interrupting a wedding. For me, I like to think of it as good versus evil, and this girl is so completely painted as the evil one. So this is "Speak Now.""

April 13, 2010: Names TS3 Speak Now

Lover Diaries: "So I’ve been obsessing over the new record to the point where it’s all I can focus on. I’m majorly stressed and borderline losing it, with all these lists and chronic dissatisfaction. Perfectionist-ness. I keep growing tired of songs because I know I’ve raised the bar and I can beat half the songs. Scott and I had lunch the other day. We were talking about the record and I had this epiphany. I didn’t talk in interviews about how I felt about much of what has happened in the last 2 years. I’ve been silent about so much that I’m saying on this album. It’s time to Speak Now. Scott freaked out. He loved it. We have a title, ladies and gentlemen!" Scott Borchetta: ""At one point, the record was not called ‘Speak Now.’ It was called ‘Enchanted,’ [...] We were at lunch, and she had played me a bunch of the new songs. I looked at her and I’m like, ‘Taylor, this record isn’t about fairy tales and high school anymore. That’s not where you’re at. I don’t think the record should be called "Enchanted."’” Swift excused herself from the table at that point. By the time she came back, she had the "Speak Now" title"

Dear John: Spring 2010 (Speculation)

This was likely written sometime after February 2010 (Taylor implies she's single in her vlog and her diary). Beyond that, it could have been anytime between February and June 2010.

Brief Interruption: The next two songs (Back to December and Mean) are going to use quotes from this interview that @1989worldtour found. If you've already listened to the interview attached to the Mine section, then it's the same interview

Back To December: Early May, 2010 (Inferring)

Taylor (above interview, at 5:12): "Back to December was written in New York City. Taylor was in New York city from May 3-5, and May 12-15 2010. she was not photographed in New York any other time in early 2010, and given her busy touring schedule, I doubt she was in New York at another time. USA TODAY: “Swift says she based the song on a conversation she had with the guy about whom she's singing. "It's not loosely based," she says. "It's almost word-for-word. It is a song and a conversation that needed to happen, because I don't want to hurt people. If you unintentionally do so, you've got to make that better."”

Mean: May 29, 2010 (Speculation)

Taylor (above interview, about 6 minutes in): "I started this song called Mean on my, like sitting on my kitchen counter, just playing it, and then, you know, took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night and finished it in the dressing room." Now, this may be a too literal interpretation of "took a plane and flew to the venue where we were gonna play that night," but if we want to theorize: the only tour date (that Taylor could've conceivably written Mean during) without another show right before or after it was in Baton Rogue on May 29, 2010.

Long Live: June 2010 (Confirmed)

Lover Diary She likely wrote this around June 5, when she ended the Fearless Tour at Gillette Stadium (Wikipedia counts two festivals as being part of the Fearless Tour but Taylor doesn't, so I'm going with her opinion), since she said that she wrote a song for Speak Now in Boston (which is the closest major city to Gillette)

The Story Of Us: June 9-16, 2010 (Confirmed)

Taylor attended the CMT Awards (Which goes on to be the secret message for The Story Of Us) on June 9 and was sat very close to John Mayer. Taylor: "The people closest to me are used to me deserting a conversation and bolting into some corner of the room with my phone out, hunched over, singing some melody or lyric or hook into my phone. I wrote “The Story of Us” about running into an ex at an awards show, and I came home and sat down at a kitchen table and told my mom, “I felt like I was standing alone in a crowded room.” She tried to console me, but I was gone at that point." Lover Diary: "So I’ve been a little studio rat since the tour ended [...] Ever since, I wake up to my cell phone alarm around 9:30 each morning. Throw on a sundress, skip make up, tie my hair in a messy side braid, and head out the door with no shoes on. Because the only walking outside I’ll be doing is from my house to my car, then from my car, three steps to Nathan’s basement studio. [...] I worked on a song for a few days, then basically finished it in the car on the way to Nathan’s this morning. It. Is. So. Good. And I can safely say I am DONE writing this record!! This song is up-tempo, and hooky and sort of torn-sounding … like this horrible stressed confusion that comes on when you knew the person you’re pining away for is in the room. And for some reason, there are these invisible walls keeping things from being ok. So you’re not fine. And they’re not fine. And I’m so happy I wrote that song!! Footage of Taylor working on TSOU

June 30, 2010: Taylor tweets “@amosjheller is SLAYING a bass part in the studio right now. http://twitpic.com/21am7t”

Footage Nathan Chapman: “We tried several bassists until we had a bass part that worked, which was played by Amos Heller, of Taylor's live band. In Nashville, it's rare for a road musician to be on the record, but he earned his way into this record by kicking ass. In fact, all Taylor's road musicians played some parts on the album, which was important for me and her.”

July 15, 2010: The orchestra for Back To December and Haunted are recorded (footage here, same outfit as these candids)

Taylor (talking about Haunted): “I wanted the music and the orchestration to reflect the intensity of the emotion the song is about, so we recorded strings with Paul Buckmaster at Capitol Studios in Los Angeles. It was an amazing experience - recording this entire big, live string section that I think in the end really captured the intense, chaotic feeling of confusion I was looking for."

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

#txt*#timeline*#taylor swift #if this deletes again i might actually delete my account #let me know if theres a typo or anything my eyes are glazing over

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witchsickness · 2 years

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the day neil leaves, max wakes up to a note on her nightstand.

it’s the end of august. her brother’s been dead for almost two months.

good riddance, the note says. makes her laugh, and that. it hasn’t happened in a while. max thinks, right on, and draws the covers over her head again. no one’s there to yell her out of bed, anyway.

a week later, she’s sitting on another bed, in another room. smaller and affordable and miserable, which is what you get for being a single mom’s offspring in indiana. her brother’s life is taking over her entire floor, tapes and books and jackets spilling out of the one box it all fits in. even in death, billy refuses to be contained.

you’re dead, max thinks, feeling like she’s being pushed out of her own life. you don’t get to do this anymore.

on the first day of school, she shows up in his jacket. it’s too hot for leather yet. by the end of the day she’s cranky, and sweat-flushed, and her nostrils are cologne-coated. instead of skating back to the trailer, she turns left.

one of them is stone, so this is bound to be pretty one-sided, but. they need to talk.

‘i miss you,’ she tells him. ‘i hate you.’

she doesn’t wait for an answer. she knows better by now.

when she finally makes it back to her room, there’s another note waiting for her, squashed under a tape. side-b, the note instructs, track 3. the colors on the cover are too bright, dissonantly happy against the earthy brown of the room. a kind of magic, the title mocks her. max closes her eyes against it, because she’s long stopped believing in good things.

she presses play. don’t lose your head, freddie sings, and max plays the song again, and again, and thinks, too late.

‘where’d you get this?’ lucas asks her the next day, turning the tape this way and that.

max fights the urge to snatch it away and hide it from everyone she’s ever loved. ‘billy gave it to me,’ she says, before her brain can catch up to her mouth. so much for keeping sane. it’s almost worth it for the horror in dustin’s eyes, and the squeak her stupid, wonderful boyfriend lets out when he throws the tape back at her, panicked.

boys. can’t even handle a teeny haunting.

what max focuses on, though, is the way steve’s eyes go comically big, and then look away. one thing max knows about steve harrington is he’s a shitty liar.

she spends the day wrapped in her brother’s jacket and claims her grief-earned place on the passenger seat of steve’s car the second the bell rings. sorrow is neat, once you get the hang of it. max has been calling shotgun for the last two months, and no one’s said a word.

the moment lucas is out of the car, she turns to steve. ‘what did yours say?’

steve chokes on his own breath, because he’s the dumbest boy in the whole world, and her brother’s taste is terrible. ‘no idea what—’

max pinches his arm, hard. ‘how did lying to my brother work out for you?’

he lets out a sigh, while rolling his eyes, while driving. sure, max is the hazard here. ‘ugh,’ he says, ‘fine,’ and makes a right towards his place.

ten minutes later, max is standing in steve’s kitchen, staring at his notes. steve’s three notes. ‘i’m his sister and i got two.’

‘it’s not a competition.’

max glares him to silence. ‘that the first?’ she asks, pointing to a napkin with the word SLUT covering what max guesses is a girl’s phone number, signed with a kiss.

steve stares at it, visibly annoyed. ‘nope. that one, then the napkin. totally uncalled for, by the way. third one appeared last night.’

thanks for keeping an eye on her, reads the first, scrawled on a post-it next to the phone. according to steve, it appeared before july was over. not even a month of being dead and billy was already bored.

it’s so painfully him. max laughs despite herself, and realizes it happens often lately.

the third note is just a doodle of a skull like the one max spent last spring making fun of her dumb brother for, except this one’s got a mullet, and an earring dangling from the hole where his left ear should be, and the words guess who scribbled on one corner.

max slaps steve’s arm to keep from crying. ‘why didn’t you say anything?’

‘say what? hey, this is crazy, but i think your dead brother is harassing me from the grave? do you know how stupid that sounds?’

‘uh, no worse than usual?’

steve gasps dramatically. ‘how sure are we you’re not just possessed by his spirit? you never used to be so mean.’

max fixes him with a look.

‘fine,’ steve sighs, throwing his stupid hands in the air, ‘you’ve always been mean.’ he nods at the notes on the counter. ‘what’re we gonna do about that?’

‘we obviously need to find him.’

‘oh, yeah? you got a map of the underworld i don’t know about?’

rolling her eyes, ‘he’s alive,’ she points out, and then, ‘wait—’

that piece of paper wasn’t there a second ago, was it? she turns it over to find lines with street names, and a big X in the middle.

‘lemme see that,’ steve says, snatching the paper from her. he bursts out laughing, and max shoves him out of the way to read the writing at the bottom of the page.

you’re both useless, it says, don’t show up without beer.

#harringrove #max mayfield #steve harrington #billy hargrove #anyone who points out a kind of magic wasnt released until '86 will be blocked on sight btw <3 #my stuff

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undercoverpena · 8 months

Text

xi. goodbyes can be sweet

javier peña x f!reader | chapter eleven of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. idiots who confess they love one another. no use of y/n. mentions of smut. feelings. angst. word count: 5.2k.

AN: welcome to the long awaited last chapter. i was going to do an epilogue, but instead, i've included the one-shots that i wrote for this and posted unbeknown to you all because i needed the fluff. .

dedications: thank you to @yeyinde for listening to me go back and forth about this, and to every single person who has missed this.

“Be safe.”

“You worried about me?”

Your fingers trace his cheek, knees digging into his mattress—the sea of your things behind, both the amount you grabbed the night he brought you here from his office, and the following nights since when he’d told everyone you were sick.

In a sense, it wasn’t a lie. Not something far from the truth.

“I’m worried that others will be looking for Guillermo Pallomari, yes.”

His lips find yours—chapped, yet soft. All telling, a thousand promises he knows he shouldn’t speak, but he kisses to your mouth all the same.

“I’m not leaving you, baby. I’m not done with you either.”

Lips curling into a smile, you brush your thumb over his cheek. “You’ll need Salcedo.”

Javi thinks he’s endured bad days—has practically collected them at this point.

Yet, he still somehow seems to find more.

He’s noticed how he manages to bring more of them to his cabinet, them lining all up, sitting on a shelf, twinkling at him like trophies. Instead of highlighting his accomplishments, they remind him of his failing. They don’t bring him joy. Instead, they wound him, slice into him—thinning him out and wearing him down.

Each day clutters itself to the next until he finds himself almost ready to collapse under the sheer weight of them.

The only reason he manages to keep standing is you.

Each day of hardship is made considerably better by the fact when he can, he can fall asleep beside you and wake to another day with you pressed against him. Whether in the morning (when the sun tries to peek over the buildings) or in the night, when the shadows begin whispering and the thoughts of what he could do, should do, all don’t stop.

It hadn’t been intentional—you moving into his. Yet, you have. Him loading the car up that night, you a shell of a person after the conversation with Fiestl. How you’d looked haunted, broken down, cracked open until all that made you you was scooped out.

You don’t have to do this.

That’s what you’d said, a duffel in his hand, your eyes shimmering, ready to paint your face in another wave of pain.

I’ll be okay on my own—I’ve done it before.

When he thinks back to it, he’s not sure what irked him more. The fact that you’d told him that or the look on your face when he’d entered that room and had you pressed against him, shaking, crying, sad.

He’s glad he was able to convince you in Spanish, and then in English, that you had him. That he wasn’t leaving without you, almost sliding his suit jacket off and rolling up his sleeves to demonstrate as such.

Now, you’re in his place—healing, helping.

It’s a reason why he’s staring at your desk—a new daily occurrence he’s added to his to-do list since you’ve been on leave.

A moment, more minutes than he can afford to burn, spent staring at it—how empty it is, how it’s been collecting dust over the last week or so.

Thank Stoddard for me. For approving my leave. I think you should be thanking me, cariño. I’m the one who gave him the order. I think I’ve been thanking you a lot.

He misses you being here. The way you help, aid—give your opinion. He could call. You’re in his apartment after all—the one kindly offered to him to be a puppet, to be a trophy, to be a body, but not a voice.

Snorting, Javi can’t help but think of your voice that first day he met you: not a glass prison. You hadn’t been wrong then, and you weren’t now—the papers in his hands were proof of it.

Rolling his jaw, he feels his hand tighten around the file—the one creasing, almost scrunching—when his sight is blocked. Fiestl, all of a sudden, there, loitering, hanging in the doorway—his eyes barely able to meet his outside of things Javi requires him to do.

“It’s none of my business, Fiestl.”

It leaves his tongue with purpose. Intent. Trying to draw a line where he can because he’s not sure he can hold himself back if he doesn’t. It had taken a day before you unloaded, let out the combination of rage, sadness and grief—your bones growing weary, tiredness suffocating you until you slept the day away, and he found you in the same place he’d left you when he’d gone to Cali.

It’s a sight he wouldn’t so easily forget. It’s why he supposes he’s looking through his brows at him, tilting his head to the side to drive it further home.

Javi can see Fiestl is battling—either with whatever is rolling around his head or his better judgment.

“I know, sir.”

Chewing his cheek, Javi pushes out a breath from his nose, closing his eyes, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. A list as long as his arm to enact, put into place—such as putting the word sir on a banned list, unless it comes from your lips.

“Just wanted to ask… see, I guess, if she’s…she’s okay?”

No, he wants to bark.

Almost does. Every part of him alight, fury mounting, spreading like lava that coats and ruins. The file in his hand—the drafted indictment—is almost cast aside because even if it’s not his battle, even if you’ve asked him not to get involved, he wants to.

Needs to.

That thrum, that pounding in his chest—the feel of your tears soaking his skin through his shirt—that first night when you shook and shook in his arms, in his bed, because you’d been hurt so fucking bad.

It makes him want to move around the desk and prod three fingers into his chest to drive the point home. He doesn’t. The title on his door is one of the reasons, the other being the shell of a person he remembers he’d had to leave in his sheets days ago—the one slowly becoming more and more you like as hours away from here tick on.

“No. No, Fiestl, she’s not okay.”

When he opens his eyes, he almost recognises it. The struggle, the battle—how it diminishes and skates inside the younger agent. He remembers it himself when the line got blurred when the need to win had reached a new pinnacle. Things shattering, never able to be repaired.

Javi straightens, standing up, placing the file down.

“I should have told her.”

Sighing again, but this time louder—Javi focuses all his attention on keeping his face unreadable, stern. Not that it matters, he’s not sure Fiestl is even aware, his hand on his hip, shaking his head—pity and guilt stitched into everything he wears now.

It's the only reason Javi softens, choosing to slide a hand over his chin, swallowing his annoyance, and putting it aside. “She’ll forgive you. I’m sure.”

Snorting, Fiestl looks up. “Nah, she won’t. But I don’t blame her. I… I wanted to get them. Make it right. I… I sent her there and I… it doesn’t fucking matter.”

Opening his mouth, he almost answers.

He almost spits out that he understands, and gets it—the edge a person can reach when doing the right thing. He swallows it—leaves the story buried where it’s supposed to be. Not needing gossip, more whispers, more things being muttered when he enters a room.

“You wanted to do good, Fiestl. You didn’t know when he approached you. Did you? I mean, fuck, when you asked for her to help, yeah, that’s an asshole thing, but she’s...”

Fiestl stares, either not knowing, or not wanting to know—both things he remembers seeing himself in the mirror when he’d been sent back home. The way he felt about himself and how it bled out, tainted everything else, tinged who greeted him back in the reflection.

How it attached itself to his clothing while he wrestled with the way people talked about him—and to him—seeing it now, all alive again, but this time etched, living and breathing in a solid person in front of him.

“She’s smart, brilliant—more than the two of us, right?” Javi continues, hearing a snort, low and underneath the shifting guilt. “And… she knows you’re a good agent. Told it me herself.”

Biting his cheek, Javi finds Fiestl doesn’t take his eyes off him—as though waiting for the words to be taken back that leave his mouth.

“Just… just fuckin’ learn from it,” he adds. “One day, she’ll forgive you. And in the meantime, maybe you can begin working on forgiving yourself.”

Something Javi realises you’ve said to him once before.

Alcohol burns differently when he coats his throat in the third mouthful in the last few seconds without reprieve.

Anger keeps mixing, churning, with the bile in his chest, all of it rising and falling—ebbing and flowing, bubbling and thickening. He’s alternated between clenching his fist and digging his thumb into the side of his skull for the better part of ten minutes—almost to the point he’s sure there’s a crevice there now, a hole, something else he’ll have to carry around with him.

Swallowing, he coats his throat in another mouthful—because it’s never enough.

Never. Ever. Enough.

He’d almost shattered the glass in his office door when he’d stormed back in. He had been close to breaking the buttons on his phone when he dialled his apartment number, only not crunching the receiver when you answered—all sweet, kind and full of snark when he said it was him.

Javi didn’t tell you, but a part of him figured you’d know deep down.

Your suspicions mounting anyway, ideas rolling, coming out in broken snippets as the two of you make heads or tails of his day.

It was different to know the two of you were right. As he’d said in the ambassador’s office, a part of him had been clutching to hope—that this time would be different, better, and more able to own the title of hero. Or at least be able to know he’d done good.

You should tell that part to grow the fuck up. You should be happy. You played the system like a goddamn fiddle. You won.

Shaking his head, Javi rolls his eyes. Something akin to grief melding into disappointment as he lets his head roll back, chin lifting to the ceiling, blinking and blinking—a part of him hoping he’d wake up, that this was a dream, a fucking nightmare.

It isn’t. The paper cut still throbbing on his palm is proof of it. His jaw slid side to side, thinking of the last few days—of the things he’s read and learned.

“Hey?”

Snapping his sight to the door, Javi takes a breath when he lands on you.

You all decked out in jeans, a shirt—likely one of his—open, barely buttoned over a t-shirt, looking the most casual he’s ever seen you in his office. Your shoulder leaning, face bare, but in his eyes, you’ve never looked better. You’re less weighted, less worried, your teeth not gnawing at your bottom lip, and stress isn’t scratching its way into your bones, even in his presence.

But in your hands, that’s what makes him smile: a coffee and a piece of fucking fruit.

Light blasting through the darkness, piercing holes in the mist that had begun descending since he found himself back in his office. The cage, the prison—the name and title on the door, which meant fucking nothing.

“Hey…” he replies, placing his glass on the desk, the base of it meeting the desk, sounding loud in the quiet. “You should know, I won, apparently.”

You snort, and he hears it thickly. If he thinks hard enough, he's sure he could even feel it on his skin. His eyes watching you as you move further around the doorway, still leaning, still keeping a distance. “I’m guessing it doesn’t feel like winning, though, does it?”

“No, cariño. It… fuckin’ doesn’t.”

Shaking his head, he runs his hand over his face—palm catching the tip of his nose—before he blinks, finding you still watching him, eyes narrowing, working him out, solving a puzzle.

“I didn’t… I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“You seemed like you needed the friendly face. And a pick-me-up.”

He tilts his head, considering your words. “Who knew putting people behind bars would be so rewarding—and easy.”

Your eyes hit him, sliding yourself further into his office, placing down the cup and fruit on the side table before folding your arms. “I think if it were easy, you wouldn’t have come and taken the job—just an observation, but you seem like a masochist. Or, you seem to love a good challenge, Peña.”

Snorting, Javi looks up—moving around the desk, tugging at the loops of your jeans as he turns you from the glass walls.

“Well, I did like breaking you down.”

“I think it was me who broke you, sir.”

Lips curling into his cheek, he jolts you by your waist. “Such lies, baby,” he whispers, brushing the words over you, ghosting them over your lips.

He could sink into you. Move you to his desk, reenact an earlier night shared months ago—when feelings weren’t spoken off, and the two of you pretended things weren’t heading to where they are now.

But, the day is running through his head. It travels round and round. Distracting him. Pulling him back from falling into you—something he usually finds he can do easily.

Has been able to the last few days.

Even when it means doing so when you’re asleep in his bed, curling you towards him, pulling an arm over him, until you wake—sleep laced on your voice, movements barely solid. Glad you’re back, sir. Glad you came back to me, Javi—

“Javi?”

Swallowing, he blinks. “Why—why are you really here, cariño?”

Chewing your cheek, he feels you let out a deep sigh before staring up at him, all bold and unafraid. “You don’t believe that I’m here to cheer you up?”

“If you were, you’d be wearing less.’

You laugh. And fuck, when you laugh, he swears the world gets a little easier. It heals the chip in his shoulder and tries to smother the lousy day with sunshine and sweetness.

“Alright. Remember this morning when you asked me to think about things? Well, I have.”

“Okay…?”

Taking another breath (more shaky, troubled), you smile. “I’ve thought about how I know you have things you need to do. For you. And, I’ve thought about how I want to be the person you walk away from all of this with—side by side, y’know? That I know we’ve talked on it, but when you hang your tie up—when you’re done… done. I want to be there.

“And, I thought about how, for a while, I have stayed here for all the wrong reasons, a part of me feeling like to do that, I had to sit at that desk and help.”

Rolling your lips, you gently take his hand in yours—it all so smooth, warm, a piece of himself unsure if he deserves it. You’re good, kind—having been hurt by things he knows he’s been around. A butterfly effect, a choice that’s rippled out and somehow hurt you.

But he doesn’t move from it. Instead, the gesture cracks him, feeling something fall within him—doubts, the twisted idea that he’d forever be alone—all crumbling from the edges of him, slipping and falling, the last pieces of it turning to dust, leaving him more raw.

Clutching his fingers tighter, you hold his stare more intensely. “But I don’t think I need to be here, in this building, for that to happen, do I?”

“—Wait—“

“Javi, I quit.”

Dipping his head, his fingers brush against your jaw, staring into your eyes, watching and feeling your lips curl into a smile. “W-what the f—“

“I rang Stoddard this morning. Asked him to put it on your desk—it was something I drafted up ages ago, before you. I just… didn’t get rid of it in case you needed me to leave the building or something.”

Scratching your neck, you smirk. “Knowing your level of organisation, it’ll be under a sea of other shit. But, it’s okay, I’m okay—I promise. You protected me long enough while I decided… you giving me time off, just in case? But, every morning, I wake up thinking I’d feel the itch to come back, but I don’t. I feel done—really done. I can’t… I can’t bring her back, and I can’t get any more justice for her.”

His mouth opens, but closes soon after. Because he’s not sure he has words. Not sure there is even any.

So, he whispers your name—not Luna, not any of the other names the office calls you. Yours. All soft and gentle—clutching your hip as he brings you close. The same name he colours the air with when you’re bare, full of him, fingers digging into his skin as your hips connect with his.

“I told you then,” you continue, “But I’ll tell you now. I’m not done with you.”

Your hand slid around his waist, fingers flattened to his lower spine. A look on your face that’s so endearing, he wants to brush his fingers over it, capture it in all the ways he can.

Then, the scent of you meets his nose—soothing him, coating him, travelling up, moving his shoulders from his ears. It adds to the way your body curves around his, settling his earlier frustration.

“Not done with you either.”

“Good,” you whisper.

His palm cups the back of your head, pulling you close, your smile against his neck, giving into his need to hold you easily. Intimate. Delicate. Romantic.

He’s so lost in it, how good it feels, that it takes him a second to feel you kiss his neck, light, barely a touch—before leaning back. “When you called me… you found out things, more things, right?”

“Cariño…”

“You don’t have to tell me—I don’t work here, after all. But I know you. Know how you tick. Whatever it is, we’ll find a way,” you say, half-smiling, “You know why? Because you’re a good person.” Your eyes holding his, staring—all intense, almost burning. “You have a voice—a nice one, if I do say so myself—so do good.”

He nods in partial disbelief that you somehow always know—that you get him, understand him. He’s also unsure how you always have the right words to say, when you barely know the mountain of shit he’s uncovered. Him realising that whatever he did, whatever he saved, whatever he found out, it was all for—

“And I think you know that there’s more than one way to get your justice, Javi. So, don’t let them tell the story,” you add, lower voice, an almost whisper. “You’ll always be the bad guy if they tell it—and you’ve gotta stop letting yourself be the villain, when you’re the fucking hero.”

He shakes his head. The word wounding him, hurting.

You must tell, must be able to know, because you pull him flush against you. The minimal gap gone, removed, your face stern, almost unreadable.

“You are, Peña. Don’t let your self-deprecation taint the good things you’ve done.”

Letting out a heavy breath, he nods. A sudden desire to bury his face into your neck rising, a need to have you close, feel your pulse against him—anything to distract him from the way your words both make him feel and light something in him.

Because, he knows you’re right. Even if he feels he’s barely scratched the surface of repenting for before, he knows it—how deep it all goes. How there are only so many options, he has left.

Instead, he strokes your cheek: his person—the person who introduced themselves as someone who’d find ways around problems. And, even without being here, without knowing everything, you somehow still do.

“Do you know what you need to do?”

Biting his lip, he nods, gradually pressing his forehead against yours. Closing his eyes slowly—almost in the same way he did this morning when you were curled against him, fingers swirling around and around on his chest.

“Good. When you're done…” your hands sliding up his chest, looping at the back of his neck. “How about after we go make lemonade? Build non-white picket fences and… ride horses?”

His lips curl. “You want to go to Texas?”

“With you? Yeah. I think I’ve been thoroughly convinced.”

His palm slides up your cheek, brushing the tips of his fingers against the hairline against your face. “Fuck, you really must like me.”

“Shut up, Peña.”

“Say you like me…” His other hand gripping your waist, keeping you against him, lost in you—the way your lips curl, desperate to slide up into your trademark smirk.

The one which embedded itself into him the moment you shot him with it.

The one which he liked waking up beside this morning—secretly hoping for many more. A secret, which apparently, has been answered.

Please. He thinks to himself.

Running the tip of his nose against your cheek, he hears the softest rumble of a laugh in your chest. “Say it, cariño.”

“I love you… sir.”

“Not your sir.”

Your fingers wrap around his chin. “Javi, you’ll always be my sir...”

“I love you too.”

Smiling, you wear it with such softness that it spreads to your eyes and lives on your lips. He nods, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Tasting coffee and sugar.

“I’ll wait at yours?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll see you there later.”

You nod, “I think they’ll cancel my Visa soon.”

Swallowing, he sighs. “Lemme guess, you don’t want me to use my charm to keep you with me for a bit?”

“I’d love you to, but you have more important things to do. Don’t you?”

He does.

Especially if he wants to build fences and spend evenings losing himself in tasting your skin.

Winking, you roll your lips. “Plus, I never cashed in my own favour with Stoddard.”

The air felt different when he had left the building.

Adrenaline thumped through him, pounding, matching how his heart hammered itself against his ribs. His hands grabbed at the things that mattered—leaving the array of files, the notes—only forcing the few post-its you’d written as he forced them into his trouser pocket.

He brushed his hand against them when he saw you leaning against the vehicle, waiting—a pair of his shades on your face as you folded your arms.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see the grin that appeared on your face when he told you what he’d done. That he’d met with Carolina Álvarez, that he’d planned to tell his story. He also rather likes playing back a version of how you’d shown him how proud of him you were—eyes all wide as you found a place between his knees, cheeks hollowing, his thumb swiping the spit from your chin.

One day, he’ll admit to you that’s when he felt he had succeeded. He felt like a winner when he got to peel your clothes from your body, when he got to spread you out over the sheets, the blinds open, the city lights flickering as he sunk into you.

Now, he’s surpassed that feeling as he strides towards you. The building behind him was slowly forgotten with every step—the regrets still clinging to him, the fact that he wished he could have done more for those who had to pay to bring down the godfathers.

But for that moment, as he strode towards you, he fixed and focused, only on you.

“I want you gone, Peña. So do the Colombians.” “I understand, sir.” “Any aspirations you have for your career, have been dragged behind the barn and shot.” He smirks, thinking of you—of that smirk you used to shoot him. Copying it, smothering it over his face. “I resigned from the DEA this morning.”

There had been a thing that powered through him as he strode closer and closer, almost able to smell your perfume before he even reached you. He thought back to the way it wormed itself into him when you’d stood in his office, calling it a glass prison. When it burned itself into his sheets the night he took you back, you left before the sun came up.

Now, it’s woven with him. Your hand in his on the armrest of the aeroplane seat—your knee bobbing, teeth biting the inside of your cheek.

“Didn’t know you didn’t like flying, cariño.”

“Maybe I’m regretting travelling to Texas. You thought of that?”

Tightening his hold on your hand, he grips it—feeling you do the same back. “Not gonna let anything happen.”

“You going to fight turbulence, now?”

Grinning, he leans closer. “For you? I’d try.”

Shaking your head, he watches as your knee slowly stops bouncing—your fingers still tightly holding him, nails just about digging into his skin. He doesn’t care; you could force them in more and make him bleed, but he wouldn’t be bothered.

He’s happy—content.

Something settled in him, something he hadn’t known if it would when he’d got on the plane back out here.

Your head turns to meet his as the pilot speaks, Javi just watching as your lips curl up into a smile.

—and I have some information about our flight—

“You ready, sir?”

—Our flight time today will be—

He thinks of telling you he’s been ready for days, weeks. Javi even tries to think of something witty.

Instead, he places two fingers under your chin, eyes focused on the way the corners of your smile drop, as he responds only by kissing you—openly, freely—doing so until he feels you laugh against him.

And fuck, does he want to feel you laugh against him for as long as he breathes.

You’d expected to like Laredo, but not as much as you do. It’s nice, warm. It's a different heat than Colombia, in a way you couldn’t explain.

The mornings are different, calmer, yet busy. Your days spent at an old dining table, boxes and boxes of receipts, papers and forms—because apparently Javi’s disorganisation is inherited.

When you break for lunch, you hunt for him. Moving past the animals, the fences he’s helped repair, your fingers brushing through the grass, tickling your palms as you head towards him.

Today, his back turned, the shirt he’d left wearing earlier now coated in sweat patches and earth. If not for the environment around you, you could easily place him back in Colombia. A thought the two of you must both have, but never talk about.

And that’s the problem.

One the two of you share. Some unspoken bond, rippling between the two of you—shaking, thrumming. It is there being plucked by lack of sleep and sorrow.

You hadn’t been sure at first if he felt the same, until you began finding him watching the river the same way you did. Then you wondered if he, too, spends the minutes before dropping off to sleep thinking about how you both could have done it all differently rather than looking back in gratitude that you both made it out.

You’re glad you did. You’re glad both of you did.

Being here helps. It healing. Repairing.

Javi’s father being the exact person you expected him to be: kind, loving and protective. All qualities that run through the man you love.

As you near him, a smile graces your cheeks on command—it’s always easy to smile around him—has always been, but it’s been easier since being here.

“Look at you, feeling all unemployed and lost with yourself.”

Sliding your arms around him, you catch the last embers of a snort and a smirk as he looks at you. His body is still turned, pointed in the direction it usually is when the boats go by. A thing you know, spot and see too.

“I’ve got a job, cariño.”

Humming, you sigh. “I wouldn’t blame you, y’know? I get—”

“No. I’m not—I’m not going back.”

You bite the inside of your mouth, digging it down until you begin to taste copper. Because there’s honesty rising in you, it there, itching, scraping—

Desperate to escape.

Because you love him, love the life the two of you could have. Fear is doing its best to keep you apart, sleep deprivation adding another bow to its arsenal.

“I see them too,” you mutter, finding his face shifts, his brow arching. “What, you think you’re the only one with eyes, Peña?

“At first, I’d begun writing when they’d go past. See if I could spot a pattern—old habits, right? It helped before when I had nowhere to run.”

He nods, so much understanding hanging behind the yellow tint of his shades that it hurts. Almost punches the breath from your lungs.

“But, the more I looked for one, the more I could feel all this slipping. Realising I didn’t want that, I had no reason to run or fix or save. I didn’t—don’t—want to lose the light—that fire you sparked in me in your office—when you basically told me you wanted me here.”

His fingers slide against your arms, palms brushing until fingers clasp at yours.

“I think we have to talk about it if we want it to work here,” you say more softly. “We both…. Gotta stop keeping the other out for the sake of saving face. Cause, I’m struggling too, Javi. I’m not…. I feel bad, guilty. Like I should be doing more than baking and taxes and…”

“Being happy?”

Nodding, you bite your lip. “Yeah.”

“Just feel…. Fuck.”

“That we didn’t win?”

Nodding, he chews his cheeks. “But, we didn’t lose either. Did we?”

“No,” you say, sliding your hand in his. “We didn’t. This is why we have to try and talk about it—so we don’t lose what we won.”

He nods again, tongue tracing over the front of his teeth. “You’re one hell of a winning, baby.”

More words swing, spreading out, all unspoken, but they’re there in the air. In his eyes. In yours.

“And you make me happy too.”

Snorting, he rolls his eyes before he pulls you flush against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, against your cheek, against your lips, until your bodies are flush, and his eyes stare into your soul.

“I’ve rang them—about the boats.”

I know, you think to yourself—because you’ve rang to tell them too.

His chin rests on your head, arms tightening around you. “I love that you’re here. That you chose this.”

“I know, sir. I know.”

“Less of the sir.”

But this time, compared to the others, you think he means it a little bit less. Especially with the way you’re sure you can feel him grinning.

Post Nowhere To Run One-Shots:

I wrote these during the series and I was meant to wait to post, but the darkness was dark and I needed the light. So, enjoy these as they were intended.

▸ coming home

▸ dancing in the kitchen

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi pena #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #mm: nowhere to run #nowhere to run update #pedro pascal narcos

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frost-queen · 2 years

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Wrong side of paradise (Reader x Steve Harrington)

Requested by: @utterly-in-like, Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernam, @subjecta13-thefangirl

Summary: R & Steve have been friends since childhood. R has fallen in love with him but her love is unrequeted since Steve still has a thing for Nancy. When R get’s affected by headaches, she knows what that means but keeps it a secret. Until she is pulled in too deep and need help to come back. (Keeping it a secret, unrequited love) I altered the time-line a bit to my own choice! <Read part 2 & part 3 & part 4 & part 5 >

“I…I need a moment.” – you said getting up. Nancy quirked her eyebrow up. You moved passed Dustin getting outside of the trailer. – “Just stay close!” – Robin shouted before you slammed the door shut. You hurried outside, creating a large distance between the trailer and you. Swallowing you tried to stop your tears from ever appearing. You walked in a straight line across the trailer park into the woods. Leaves crunched underneath your shoes. You gasped loud, gripping onto a wooden park bench in the woods. These weren’t just headaches. It was Vecna luring you into his death trap.

The dreadful pounding in your head, you had for a week now. You screamed loud knowing what it meant. You were sentenced to die. Fists trembling at the intensity of your voice scraping. You straightened yourself pacing around. The more you thought about it, the more it upset you. You screamed again, grabbing the bin by the picnic bench. Picking it up, you threw it away. Litter scattering the ground. You lost control. Stomping wildly on the ground, jumping hysterical at your emotions that needed to be outed. Running your hands rough through your hair. Screaming, crying, cursing in all ways. Punching your fists in the air at the breakdown you were having.

After a while broke you down on the bench, exhausted. All of your energy outed in your rage. Catching your breath you leaned back. Face up to the sky. Closing your eyes you took a moment to calm yourself down. You couldn’t return in this state. You wiped your cheek dry at the sound of twigs snapping. You jumped up, seeing a startled Robin. – “Sorry didn’t mean to scare you.” – she said holding her hands up. You lowered your gaze, relieved it was her. – “You… you okay Y/n?” – she asked dropping her hands. You sat down again with a deep exhale. Robin walked around the bench to join you. She let her elbows rest against the table behind her, leaning back. – “It’s all a bit crazy, isn’t it?” – she started.

“I mean last year with that whole mindflayer thing in the mall. Phew that was mental. Russians! Who knew they were involved in it. Now we’ve got Vecna haunting our memories for whatever purpose.” – She rambled on with a shiver. – “Can you imagine Vecna tormenting your conscious, slithering his way in to show you all sort of traumatic shit and when he finally has you, he bends you like a straw. Eyes gouged out…” – you shuddered at the thought, thinking about it. – “Robin!” – you called out, wanting her to stop. She abruptly stopped, looking at you. – “Oh sorry. I ramble on when I get nervous. My mother always says it to me that I can’t seem to stop talking and I barely even notice it…” – she paused smiling. – “I am rambling again… I’m…I’m just going to shut my mouth.”

You chuckled seeing her press her lips together with a lot of effort. Robin smiled seeing you cheered up. She leaned forwards staring into the woods. – “I don’t think we’ve actually had a full on conversation without Steve present.” – she said swaying her feet back and forth. – “No…” – you answered with a faint smile. – “It’s quite nice…” – Robin spoke looking over at you. – “It is.” – you replied. Robin got up, offering you, her hand. – “Ready to be amongst the lions again?” – you nodded, letting her pull you up. The two of you entered seeing a few heads turn in your direction. – “Found her!” – Robin exclaimed pointing at you.

You moved to the background letting the other’s take charge as usual. You were surprised to see Steve slide closer to you. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. – “You good?” – he questioned. – “Yes… it was just a lot of information at once.” – you lied with a smile. Steve turned his head to you, laying his hand on your head. – “Good…” – he mumbled out, lifting his hand up to pat you on the head. A few times slow. It made your heart flutter. Steve and you had been friends since childhood. As thick as thieves, just lately you started to feel more for him.

You wanted to be more than just friends. Steve looked away as you caught him staring at Nancy. It made your smile drop, knowing very well. You moved your head away so he would stop patting your head mindlessly. - “Shall we listen in?” – you suggested, gesturing to the others. You left without hearing his response. – “Sure…” – Steve said, his voice fading out when you left his side. He swallowed locking eyes with Robin before he sat down. Robin shrugged her shoulders.

Your flashlight illuminated the ground. Dustin and Steve walked across behind you into another room. You entered a room in the old, abandoned Creel house. The room was covered in cobwebs, white sheets over the dining table. You lost your balance for a second, falling against the doorframe as you felt it. The headaches. Somehow it intensified in the old house. You pressed your fingers against your forehead to put pressure on it. – “Y/n you, okay?” – Robin’s voice startled you as her hand touched your shoulder. – “Yeah… yeah…” – you told her wiping your hand down your face. – “I’m…I’m just tired.” – it was half a truth.

You were indeed exhausted from keeping Vecna at bay and helping out your friends at the same time. Robin gave your shoulder a little squeeze. – “I can tell.” – she flashed her light up in your face with a soft chuckle. It made you close your eyes to block the light out. – “Sorry.” – she immediately spoke, lowering her light. – “That was a dick move.” – she continued feeling a bit guilty at pointing out your tired face. – “That’s alright Robin.” – you breathed out blinking slowly to keep the headache at bay. – “I do look like shit.” – you commented with a laugh. Robin gasped loud. – “You look gorgeous, you queen!” – she answered letting herself fall against you.

You pushed her away playfully, laughing loud. Robin and you busted out in laughter. Steve entered the dining room with furrowed brows. – “Really?” – he said pointing his flashlight at the both of you. Robin and you stopped laughing, swallowing nervously. – “Sorry Steve.” – Robin joked out, pressing her lips together afterwards. You tried your very best to hold in that snort that would get the laughing train going again. – “Can any of you please focus!” – He flashed his light up in your faces, making you move your hand up to block it. – “Roger that!” – Robin saluted with a sneer. You snorted loud, unbale to hold it in. Steve rolled his eyes, turning around.

You licked your lips watching him leave. Pining for him, couldn’t you stop yourself from yearning. You knew your love was unrequited, for who would not fall in love with Nancy Wheeler. She was everything. Your very own Nancy Drew with a badass attitude. Still it hurt to see him still fall in love with her. Robin nudged you with her elbow. – “Come on.” – She motioned with her head for you to follow. You slowly turned around, going after her. The two of you maneuvered from the dining room to the kitchen. You moved your arm up to your nose to block out the smell. Robin almost gaged. – “Ghastly.” – she commented, pinching her nose shut. – “Smells like Steve’s dirty socks.” – she joked sounding funny.

You laughed loud, inhaling a bit of the stank. It made you cough, waving your hand in front of you. Robin slapped you on the back with a loud chuckle. The two of you left the kitchen for what it was, heading through a door that lead to a smaller room in the back. There was nothing special in the room. Just some old baskets and dirty cloths that had caught dust for ages. In the back was a door, ivy woven around it, having found a way through creaks of the brick wall. – “So…” – Robin started trying her way at the door. – “What is up with you and Steve?” – she gritted her teeth as the door wouldn’t budge. – “What do you mean?” – you answered, letting your flashlight shine around. Robin stepped back with a loud huff. She stuck her flashlight out to you.

You took it, holding it for her. – “You know…” – she started, rolling her sleeve up. You gulped at the flirtatious wink that she threw at you. – “It’s nothing like that!” – you called out loud as Robin was rolling her other sleeve up. – “Come on Y/n. I’m not blind. I saw the way you looked at him earlier. You were practically drooling.” – Robin answered having another go at the door. – “I was not!” – you hissed at her. – “So… you are to tell me you feel nothing more for good old Steve?” – she grunted pushing at the door. – “I don’t!” – you responded loudly. Robin puffed some hair out of her face, groaning as she pushed against the door once more. – “Liar.” – Robin breathed out, using her weight against the door.

You groaned loud, joining in. You pushed your hands firmly against the door. It didn’t budge as you spun around. With your back against it, pushed you firmly. – “It’s nothing.” – you forced out between a clenched jaw. – “It is Y/n! If you like Steve, you should tell him!” – Robin breathed out, shoving her shoulder against the framework. – “What is the point to it!” – you answered frustrated. – “He’ll never notice me.” – you pushed your back hard against the door feeling it budge a bit.

“because” – you continued stomping hardly with your body against the wooden door. – “I’m not Nancy!” – you yelled out as the door budged. Robin caught you just in time before you were send down with it. Panting loud, shared you a concerned look. A cold breeze chilled up as the newly made gap caught your attention. Robin hummed curiously out loud walking through. You followed her into the yard. You gave her flashlight back stepping into the damp grass. Your light fell on a wooden swing, hauntingly rocking. It made you shudder. Robin and you parted a bit, each taking a side of the yard to investigate.

You felt the goosebumps rise in your neck, leaving a chill down your spine. The wind ruffled through the leaves, sending them dancing your way. You slowly turned around letting your eyes go up. Your eyes widened at the attic’s window. There you saw him. Vecna. Staring soullessly down to you. The striking of a clock made you jump out of your skin. The world felt like turning topsy turvey. Upside down with an eerie atmosphere. The wind sounded like a banshee’s scream. It made you cover your ears up, losing contact with the window. Catching your breath, looked you up once more.

The attic window empty. No sign of him. You started to look around frantically, hearing the clock chime thrice. Behind you in a hollow tree was the clock. You screamed it out, backing away from it. Gasping loud, you bumped against someone. Turning your head slightly to the left, saw you boney fingers crawl up your shoulder. You screamed your lungs out, slapping the hand away from you. Spinning around, saw you him stand there. Vecna. Henry Creel. – “Come now Y/n.” – he spoke holding his hand out to you. You shook your head, taking a run for it.

Meanwhile shone Robin’s flashlight on you. – “Did you hear me Y/n?” – she spoke moving over to you. Her flashlight dropped onto the grass as her eyes widened. – “Y/n!” – she called out, grabbing your shoulders to shake them back and forth. – “What… you… why didn’t you tell me!” – she panicked, shaking you roughly. You weren’t hearing her, trapped in Vecna’s curse. – “Damn it Y/n! Why didn’t you tell me!” – Robin fought back the upcoming tears. She breathed shallow, looking around for any help. Everyone was still in the house, unaware of the troubles in the backyard.

She knew the clock was ticking so heading inside for help would have no positive outcome. She knew she’d be too late to save you. – “Okay, okay, okay.” – she reassured herself tapping her head. – “Think… think Robin… what song did she like…” – Robin snapped her finger trying to get the song off the tip of her tongue. – “Think Robin!” – she cursed, slapping herself. – “Wow, okay I needed that.” – she said to herself as it was a wake-up call. Your song suddenly popped in her head as she called it out.

It took her but 1.0 seconds to start singing your favorite song. With her finger mimicked she the beat to assist her. She kept singing, shaking your shoulders for you to hear it. Her eyes widened when your feet lifted off the ground. – “No, no-no-no” – she stuttered out, shaking her head as you soared higher. – “Y/n!” – Robin screamed as you floated mid-air. Robin started jumping around singing as loud as she could. Screaming the words out as her arms flapped around. She kept singing while praying for you to hear her. The last thing she wanted was to see her friend bend like a straw.

Robin jumped swaying her arms in an attempt to catch you. She couldn’t reach it clearly, but that didn’t stop her from trying. She stopped jumping, moving her hands to her hair, still singing as she felt it was all in vain. Then all of the sudden woke you up, your body dropping to the ground. – “Y/n!” – Robin called out, catching you. She fell to the ground with you, pulling you close to her. – “Shit…” – she breathed out, sitting behind you. You gasped for air, trembling as you pulled her arm over you. – “I…I…Goddamn it Y/n. I thought I was about to lose you to him.” – Robin expressed angered.

She wrapped her arms tighter around you as you were shivering. – “Jeez Y/n. Don’t scare me like that.” – she said, letting her chin rest on top of your head. – “Sorry…” – you said, teeth clattering from fright. – “Don’t… don’t tell Steve…” – you added. – “What? Steve should definitely know about this!” – Robin answered as you removed yourself from her chest to face her. – “No! No one can know!” – you insisted. – “But Y/n…”

“I said no one! Robin please…”

“Y/n this is important…”

“Please… I don’t want them to know… or worry… I’ll manage.”

Robin shook her head slightly disagreeing. – “Y/n…” – you held your hand up to silence her. – “Robin please… I’ll tell them when it is the right time. Not now… not to Steve.” – you begged, taking her hand. Robin sighed deep, lowering her gaze. – “I promise.” – you threw your arms around her, hoping you could keep it a secret a little longer.

-------------------------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

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ferallester · 5 months

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okay so I didn’t have the motivation to do Appreciation Week at first, but seeing @yonpote do it all in one day has inspired me so let’s do it! (but with screenshots and stuff bc Yeah LMAO)

for @dpgdaily’s Dan and Phil Appreciation Week!

post is under a break so that it doesn’t just break tumblr

Day 1 - Favourite Dan and/or Phil quote:

the entire opening from the pinof 7 bloopers is hilarious but by far one of my favourite quotes (one that has continually haunted me since 2016, when I watched it for the first time) is:

D: Stand still!

P: Stencil!

D: … I’m gonna hit you. [laughs] Shut up!

I quote this weirdly often in my fics. In fact, I’m pretty sure two of my recent published fics use it as a reference. I didn’t realise until now that I was partially misquoting it XD

I also can’t not mention, from Basically I’m Gay (the entire part from when Dan starts talking about Phil is linked, quote starts about twenty seconds later):

D: We are real best friends, companions through life, like actual soulmates […]

maybe he was trying to be ironic, but there’s something intensely poetic about his body language when he describes them as actual soulmates

I’m obsessed with it, but in like the way people don’t shut up about Pride and Prejudice, maybe, idk I’m just bisexual and hoping that I get half as lucky as the boys have

there are many more moments tbh I could say LMAO

Day 2 - Favourite Dan and Phil Series:

OUGHHHHH THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY REALLY DIFFICULT—

what is now called Season 1 of the Sims 4 and the Undertale playthrough are VERY close contenders, but I think my favourite series is actually the DITLs! (there’s no playlist for this one rip)

you can easily split them into two or three sections (depending on if you count any of The Making Of videos for TABINOF, the calendars, or the prep for II as DITLs), and each section has something wonderful to enjoy!

the ‘local’ DITLs (Manchester and London) are incredibly domestic, with the boys just going about a semi-typical day, and the Festive DITL honestly just turns that up to a hundred, I love the domestic ones so much

the ‘holiday’ ones too (Japan and Australia) are also super fun, because we get to see the boys doing silly touristy things like holding koalas or hanging around one of the busiest intersections in Tokyo (I also keep hearing conspiracies about the Australian one LMAO)

the ‘making of’ videos are their own unique source of slice-of-life entertainment, because They’re Getting Important Stuff Done but they’re making it entertaining for us too

my favourites are the original DITL and Festive DITL <3

Day 3 - Favourite Dan and/or Phil Outfit:

used @phanoutfitsblog’s screenshots for most of these, with the exception of Dan’s initial look in the baking video (also I’d be lying if I said that Sister Daniel wasn’t high up on this list hhhh)

can Phil stop being pretty for FIVE MINUTES JEEZ— it’s actually incredibly difficult to pin down favourite outfits for him bc he just. Keeps. On. WINNING.

his red shirt in the red carpet roasting video is probably the most iconic so far but it could really have been literally any other outfit he’s worn in the last several years

and Dan’s no slouch, either! this man is gorgeous and he ROCKS it! he wore this particular shirt (?) to an interview (or at least it was framed like one) and he looks INCREDIBLE in it but I can’t remember where I found the other screenshot so I won’t post it lmao

his initial appearance in the Halloween baking video before he changes into Sister Daniel is also equally pretty bc of the makeup and honestly? gimme your gender Howell

other honourable mentions include a recent magazine shoot that I’ve forgotten the name of (some phan I am LMAO, shame on me for only remembering the pink), and his dystopia motorcycle twink shirt from the red carpet video

Day 4 - Favourite Joint Content

oooh, difficult question, that’s like choosing a favourite child! still, the answer to this one is a lot simpler than Day 5 below, because it’s the original PINOF, as well as the photobooth challenge!

while PINOF wasn’t my initial introduction to the boys (that goes to the Sims 4), it’s one of the earliest things I watched of them, and almost certainly what got me to stick with them! (along with the Sims 4… LMAO)

Dan says he was being ironic when he said ‘this is the most fun I’ve ever had, and maybe it’s the tism kicking in, but he doesn’t sound sarcastic or ironic when he says that

it’s pretty clear from the get go that they’re two boys (boys in love, even) making a silly video, having absolutely zero idea that it’s going to change the world <3

the pb challenge, meanwhile, is just incredibly funny, I remember almost hurting myself from laughing so hard the first time I watched it XD it hasn’t aged perfectly, but that’s most things from ten years ago

the honourable mentions list is VERY long so I won’t put all of them here LMAO, but the Get Down video is one of them XD

Day 5- Favourite DanAndPhilGames video

oooh, another difficult question, here, because more often than not, the answer is yes! I could say the Halloween baking video one day, and the Katamari video the next, and one of the Sims 4 building videos because I’m a sucker for renovations (also, the GAY WEDDING and the RETURN in general!), and honestly there’s so many videos I’ve forgotten over the years (LOVE NIKKI!) but I think I’m gonna say the finale of Undertale!

it makes me cry every time I rewatch the series, and it’s such a beautiful story, and yeah I’m a mess just thinking about it, because the fact that they chose to be pacifists from the get go is one of the genuinely sweetest things I can think of

Day 6 - Favourite Solo Video(s)

oh no I don’t actually know how to fully answer for Dan, but at a guess… yeah who am I kidding, it’s BIG and We’re All Doomed! :D (yes I know WAD! isn’t a video (yet, hopefully) but it overrides literally everything else bc I loved that night so much)

BIG, as a queer person, is just honestly so incredibly important to me, because being able to listen to other queer people — very successful ones, too — and how they’ve struggled in ways I’ve been fortunate to have never suffered, and how they overcame it all, and are still dealing with it to this day? yeah I’m still so proud of Dan for it all, he deserves the life he’s made for himself <3

WAD is in a similar vein to this, but with the addition of me being able to actually MEET Dan and then watch him on STAGE as he did his comedy show! I made him laugh with a joke about Australian summer being hell, and that’s probably one of the best things that has ever happened to me <3

honourable mention goes to his Keep On Movin’ video, bc that’s just damn impressive

Phil, meanwhile… I have so many videos to choose from, and while Coming Out To You carries the same importance as BIG, if not more since I watch it more (I love them equally, but COTY is only eight minutes long okay), I am actually struggling to choose a favourite outside of it!

mostly because all my favourite Phil videos… are joint content videos!

that being said, his fourth ACNH video is incredibly sweet, and I think I might go rewatch the series!

also his house review videos (the apartment one and the expensive house one) are pretty iconic

AND the sleepless night series— can you see why I’m struggling? :’D

Day 7 - What do Dan and Phil mean to you?

(oh god I am so sorry for this monster)

I don’t remember 2016 being a particularly rough year for me, despite the many star-studded losses (rip Anton Yelchin especially), and maybe it would’ve been that way even if I hadn’t found Dan and Phil, but finding them at what could be considered their initial peak of fame was probably one of the best things that could have happened to me, because I was just a year into my experiences with internet fandom, and what better way to do that than get yeeted into the chaotic world of two British dorks on the net that everyone and their cat shipped?

I may have missed out on the radio shows, sure, and I missed out on pretty much every YouNow and Rize show and whatnot because I’m a goose, but I came into the fandom just in time to see TATINOF live, even though I couldn’t get a meet and greet ;w; one day I’ll catch Phil

I distinctly remember being at the Gold Coast Eisteddfod, which was an hour south of Brisbane, on the same night as TATINOF, and absolutely booking it back with my mum to Brisbane, stressing the entire way even as we got McDonalds and I got changed out of what was either my school uniform or my performance uniform (I can’t remember) into something more normal for a night at QPAC

and yet, once I was there, I had probably one of the best nights of my life, because TATINOF, in my opinion, is the best thing the boys have ever done on stages (II and WAD! are very close tho don’t get me wrong)

someone helped me draw cat whiskers on my face, I remember chatting happily to other phannies around me (what about, I have long forgotten), and I remember how loud it was, and how much I didn’t mind that, for the first time in my life

I bought more merch at II and WAD!, because I was either given more money or I actually had money to spend since I got my job by WAD!, but, even when disappointed by the fact that I couldn’t afford much, I have cherished my TATINOF lanyard since that fateful night in August 2015, because it symbolises just how much I love the two gay dorks who are now two of my biggest queer role models

the fact that they chose us over fame and fortune in the entertainment industry? I’m so grateful for that, because it means, even though we gave them utter hell (I wasn’t quite one of them, but I probably did a few minor demon things as a teen LMAO), they cared, and still care, about us, the audience

this is getting SO long and waffly, oh my GOD, this is why my current fic is eleven k long already, uhhhh tl;dr they’re weird and queer (affectionate), I’m weird and queer, and I am so glad I found them, because having them in my life is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, down to graduating from high school and university and having their videos to watch <3

okay that’s enough sappiness this took me like three or four hours love y’all <3

thanks @dpgdaily for hosting!!!!

#the feral speaketh #dan and phil #phan #dnpaw #this took. an eternity of screenshotting and captioning XD #happy dnpaw!!!!

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septnanis · 4 months

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canopy

a Destiel post-canon fix-it bit

Once Cas gets back, they orbit each other like a binary system. Always close but never getting close enough to speak the unspeakable. They spend the first few weeks in the bunker marinating in the awkward silences and equally awkward conversations before Dean has had enough.

He is a forty year old man who has faced down every thing from suburban ghosts to the creator of the universe and he feels almost embarrassed how he can’t strike up the nerve to talk to Cas.

So Dean packs a bag, walks to Cas’ room and tells him to suit up, get his shit and meet him in the garage in an hour. Cas just gives him that look that reminds Dean that Cas is a million year old celestial creature and Dean is a little human speck. It makes him grin all the way to the garage.

Cas shows up fifty minutes later, packed bag in tow. He’s wearing jeans and a dark blue henley covered by a chambray shirt that makes Dean’s mouth dry up because Cas looks handsome and capable and like a Winchester.

“Where are we going,” Cas asks, likely out of curiosity because Dean knows it won’t affect his decision to come along. “A hunt?”

“Hunt what?” Dean asks right back at him. “We, my angelic friend, are going to reap the rewards of killing God and go wherever the hell we want.”

With those words, Dean sits himself in the driver’s seat and pulls the door shut with a satisfying click. Cas joins him in the passenger’s seat and moves about until he’s sitting at a comfortable angle.

“We didn’t kill God,” Cas says. “We… deactivated him.”

Dean starts the car and turns to grin at Cas. “You didn’t do anything,” Dean says. “You were chilling in the Empty.”

Someone else might have been offended at the obvious dig, but Cas just grins back at him.

—-

Several weeks on the road and Dean has never felt free the way he does now. They’ve been to more than a dozen roadside attractions, some more bizarre than others. Cas likes the particularly strange ones, asks even stranger questions.

Dean gives the cheap motels a wide berth and gets the rooms in nice hotels.

In Vermont, he fishes out his phone while Cas is pumping gas and looks for a bed and breakfast. One, because he thinks it’s hilarious and two, he’s really always wanted to stay at one that wasn’t haunted.

“How do you feel about canopy beds?” Dean asks without looking up.

Cas clears his throat and puts the gaspump back. “Seems a bit redundant, a bed with a roof inside a building with a roof? But I guess it’s… cozy?”

Dean does look up at Cas, his finger hovering over the Book Now button. The man is all big blue eyes and heather grey sweatshirt and Dean is in love with him, probably has been for years.

“Would you like anything?” Cas asks as he starts walking towards the station to pay.

Dean shakes his head and hits the booking button like he’s on a mission.

When Cas comes back out, he puts a cold bottle of water in Dean’s hand even though Dean didn’t want anything.

“You need to hydrate yourself,” Cas says and turns to walk away.

“I love you,” Dean says. It stops Cas so abruptly it’s like time has stopped. “I’m… I’m in love with you. And we’re at a gas station which is a stupid place to say this but here we fucking are.”

Cas turns back to Dean and looks apprehensive.

“Before the Empty swiped you,” Dean keeps going because this once in a lifetime momentum and even he knows he’s on a one way street now. “You told me all these great things about me. And if anyone else had told me I would’ve laughed my ass off at them. But I actually believed you.”

The apprehension in Cas’ eyes remains steadfast, his whole body language like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You told me you loved me,” Dean says. “And then you were gone. Didn’t even give me a chance to think about it, much less figure out that… you’re it for me too, Cas. You’re loyal and you’re brave and kind and maybe the most stubborn, toughest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

Thankfully the apprehension makes way for what looks like a spark of hope in Cas’ eyes. It reminds Dean yet again that this is a million year old celestial creature, hiding out in a human vessel, inexplicably in love with this little human speck.

“I love you, Castiel,” Dean says. He shrugs, because there’s nothing else he can think of to say.

Cas smiles at him so beautifully it becomes clear pretty quickly there’s nothing else he has to say.

—-

Later, Dean pulls the covers up over their heads and kisses Cas for what feels like the hundredth time. He decides he’ll never ever get tired of it.

“Under the covers, under a canopy, under a roof,” Dean says, smiling wide. Cas eyes are the color of the sky once the sun has set in the minimal light. “How’s that for redundant?”

“It’s cozy,” Cas says. He runs his knuckles over Dean’s face.

This is freedom, Dean decides. This is peace.

Also available on ao3: canopy

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel

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magniloquent-raven · 2 years

Text

this post by @stevewhoreington got me ok i love me some relationship milestones, so here's some whatever this is lmao

Billy does a lot of things in anger, a lot of things he regrets, awful things that haunt him late at night while he nurses bruises he’s half-convinced he deserves. He says shit without thinking, acts without stopping to consider consequences, lashes out at the slightest provocation. His anger has ruined him as much as it’s protected him.

But despite being the stupidest risk he’s ever taken with his eyes closed, this will also be the best thing he’s ever done.

It’s familiar by now, the tightly coiled fist where his heart should be, shaking and restless and beating the inside of his ribcage, rattling the bars as it tries to escape, to relieve the pressure. It creeps up on him, rising in his throat like bile ‘til he can’t ignore it anymore, ‘til it’s everywhere and he can’t remember what it’s like to not feel it, but he’d do anything to find out.

Usually that means blood on his knuckles and the hot throb of a fresh bruise, or cutting words slipping from his mouth tasting like iron and acid, and stinging on his tongue. Usually that means he’ll spend the foreseeable future drowning his sorrows, diving headfirst into any vice that’ll dull the sharp edges of his guilt.

This time…

It’s just him and Steve, four inches of threadbare couch between them in the shitty trailer Susan bought after Neil ran off, the air hazy with cigarette smoke, the fan in the corner rattling because Billy still hasn’t fixed the loose screws, and an uncomfortable trickle of sweat running down the back of his knee.

And Billy says some shit he didn’t mean to.

Steve wouldn’t stop bemoaning his tragic love life, between mouthfuls of beer he’d list off all the girls he’d dated, complaining about running out of options in this dead-end shithole town. He’d been at for what seemed like hours, sticking needle after needle under Billy’s skin. It came to a head when he was on his sixth bottle, head lolling back against the couch cushions, his hand gestures sloppy and tired.

When he started getting quieter. When he started telling Billy all the reasons he was gonna die alone, like he’d been laying awake at night compiling a list that he now knew by heart. He gets too attached, he never reads signals until it’s too late, he’s stuck working retail and he’s never gonna do better than that. He falls into bed with all the wrong people.

And see, Billy always knew he wasn’t right for Steve, that what they did two weeks ago—and six more times since—was a mistake, but he didn’t need to hear Steve say it.

So all that anger bubbles to the surface. All his stupid hurt feelings, all the things he’s been biting back. It snaps out of him, spilling his guts into the smoky air.

“Steve, you do know I’m in love with you, right.”

Because that’ll show him, sure. It’s stupid, spiteful, to prove him wrong, but also…there’s a part of Billy that’s a different kind of angry. The kind of anger that doesn’t go away with a few harsh words, but burns low and bright and lingers, flaring every time Steve makes it clear he doesn’t see himself at all. It’s a helpless feeling, wanting to shake him until he stops, thinks, sees what Billy sees in him.

Billy grits his teeth, grinding his molars to drown out the ringing in his ears. The room feels so much smaller than it did a minute ago. Even with a breeze floating in through the open window, it’s stuffy. He’s struggling to get air into his lungs, and his throat is too dry.

Steve is blinking at him, a dull sheen glossing over his eyes, the furrow between his brows deepening. “No you aren’t.”

“Fuck you, yes I am. I have been since I moved here you prick.”

“But…”

“But what, Steve?” Billy seethes, shoving himself into Steve’s space. Their knees jostle against each other. Their breath mingles, Billy’s coming in short puffs through his nose, like an enraged bull. “But Princess Wheeler would rather ride Byers’ musty dick? But every girl in Indiana is apparently stupid and blind? You aren’t the problem, and I’m sick and fucking tired of listening to you say you are.”

“That’s not—”

“Shut. Up.” Billy punctuates with a sharp prod, jabbing Steve’s chest with his finger.

Steve grabs his hand before he can pull away. They stare at each other for a beat. The fan clicks, clicks, clicks in the silence, and Billy realizes he’s been trembling this whole time. Steve lets out a soft breath, wide eyes searching Billy’s face while he chews the inside of his lip. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly.

The question sits between them for a second before Billy curls his fingers around Steve’s. The motion makes his heart clench painfully. “I love you.”

“Huh…”

“Yeah.”

Steve’s gaze drifts to their entwined hands, unfocused, glazed over. There’s the tiniest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He presses it gently to the back of Billy’s hand, just resting there while Billy’s pulse ratches up, up, pounding against his sternum, roaring in his ears. It’s a small thing, a warm thing, to be cradled in Steve’s hand, but it feels like sunshine in his veins.

A wounded noise escapes him when he feels Steve’s smile grow.

“You’re kind of an asshole.” Steve murmurs.

Yeah, here comes the gentle letdown. Billy wonders, idly, if he can bottle the sunshine to make it less fleeting. Save it for later instead of letting it fade away. “I know.”

“You’re always so…the way you are, I dunno. Hard to read. I thought it didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me.”

“...Huh?”

“I figured you were a hit it and quit it kind of guy. Didn’t wanna…cramp your style or whatever.”

“What.”

“Y’know, ‘cause I love you too. But I didn’t know it was too. When we. Yeah.”

“What?”

“I guess you…didn’t know.” He pauses huff a laugh. “Robin was right, we’re dumb.”

Normally Billy would protest, but the amount of information he’s trying—and failing—to process right now is making his head hurt.

“Are you—are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I wasn’t speaking in code, Billy.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?” Steve echoes, leaning in to nudge their noses together.

He has no fucking clue what he was about to say, if he even had a plan to begin with, because the next thing he knows, Steve’s kissing him, softly, tasting like six beers and the cigarettes they’ve been passing back and forth but still somehow the sweetest fucking thing Billy’s ever experienced.

~~tag list ppls @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle

#harringrove #harringrove ficlet #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #a raven's writing desk

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flippyplush · 4 months

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i saw you talking about three buckets on twitter and I’m shy so i’m asking here…do you have any headcanons or whatever for what happened with finn after three buckets

omg hi, im curious about what post you saw me talking about it on bc ive had multiple conversations about three buckets on twt… thats for me to wonder. but ty for asking me this id love to talk about it.. i rant a lot on this ask sorry in advance. hope you like reading.

i cant decide what finn would do after fern goes kaboom and we cut back to the treehouse. because i dont even know what i would do, i cant imagine it myself. i think the most likely scenario is he lies there for a while, for hours after maybe. his mind is really clouded and he can’t really process what he just did, but eventually he gets up, slowly walks his way home. its only when he arrives home when the reality of what just happened fully hits him and he breaks down.

i think at least for the first week or so after, finn wouldn’t be able to get out the details of what happened. he cant bring himself to. but jake is pretty quickly able to pick up on context clues and fill in the blanks… he sees finn with grass and grass stains all over him and hes beat up and without fern and has a similar look on his face to when he lost his arm and he just immediately knows. he tries his best to be gentle with finn about it and help him.

it would really haunt finn, obviously. he did say its been a rough month in the wild hunt. he wouldnt be able to sleep for a while, all he can do is stare up at the ceiling for ages and replay the fight over snd over in his head (though he doesn’t want to, he cant not think about it), maybe wonder if he couldve done something different to prevent what happened,,,

some of the details are kinda fuzzy cause he did repress some of it, but the one thing he distinctly remembers is the sound of the weed whacker, it will Not leave his head its pretty ingrained in there… and it takes a while for the memory of it to not be constantly at the back of his head. maybe he never fully moves past it.

im gonna stop now i have too many thoughts. thank you for asking me abt this im actually so insane about three buckets

#best ask ever gave me an excuse to yap #love you anon #adventure time #asks

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nyoomfruits · 1 year

Note

Heard you were hunting for plant fiasco story, and I will give you one but first, I shall fangirl:

OMG YOUR STORY IS SO GOOD I READ IT FIVE TIMES SINCE IT WAS POSTED 🥹🥹🥹🧡

Now for the plant fiasco: my current office has the unkillable ZZ plants scattered through the office to make it look less soul sucking, and we also have a in-house chill garden with vines and philodendrons all over the room and walls. My colleague knows nothing about plants and every time I touch one, like inspecting the leaves or something she tells me to stop because it might be poisonous 😅 so I decided to play a joke on her with our other colleague. Basically we booked out all three floors of meeting rooms in the building and left only the chill garden free so when she needed a meeting room for the day she had to book the only free one. Then we talked really loud with receptionist about the poisonous plants inside the garden (there are none) while the colleague was in there and had the meeting and could hear every single word. She was visibly sweating and looking around… And as we were talking, a leaf fell down from one of the plants on the table and I kid you not, she screamed bloody murder and jumped away, running out of the room. Everyone present was dying from laughing 😂 since then, we cannot have meetings in the chill garden 😅

Hope you don’t me vomiting my equivalent of plant fiasco on you but this was the most evil in-house thing I’ve done 😂🫣

okay first of all this is SO funny oh my god, i can't believe she fell for that??? also the PREP that went into this i'm mad impressed this is a jim from the office kind of dedication to office pranks and i love it

second of all. i couldn't stop thinking about how this was abosutely something charles from the fake dating au would do??? and then i accidentally ended up writing what's essentially an epilogue for the fic so uuuuh... here you go????

Max is just putting the pasta into boiling water, when he hears the front door open and close, and the sounds of someone taking off their shoes and coat. Seconds later, Charles appears in the kitchen, smiling widely.

“Hey, babe,” he says, making his way over to Max and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey,” Max says, stirring his onions, “how was work?”

Charles’s grin widens as he hops up onto the counter to sit next to where Max is cooking. “You know how it’s been a bit boring now Cecile finally stopped believing the coffee machine is haunted?” Charles’s eyes are sparkling with mischief.

Max sends Charles a knowing look. “What did you do?”

“Me?” Charles asks, all faux innocent. Max raises an eyebrow. Charles grins. “We kind of convinced her all of the plants in that one garden themed meeting room were poisonous.”

Max tries very hard to look unimpressed and stoic about it, but he can’t help but the corners of his mouth turning up. “You are evil, you know that?”

Charles hums. “And you love me for it,” he says, leaning forward and capturing Max’s lips in a quick kiss.

“Unfortunately,” Max says, laughing when Charles squeaks indignantly. Max adds bell peppers and zucchini to the pan and stirs them around a little. “I cannot believe its literally your last week at there and you’re spending it riling Cecile up.”

“I want to go out doing what I love most,” Charles says, swinging his legs a little and grinning cheekily. “Plus, the second I start studying engineering after the summer its going to be all work and no play, so I think I deserve this little bit of fun before that.”

Max hums, and stirs in a few tablespoons of Boursin. Charles tries to stick his finger in the sauce that’s forming in the pan and Max swats his hand away. “You know I’m proud of you, right? For taking that step?”

Charles rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond. “You’ve only told me like, a million times.”

“Well consider this million and one,” Max says, moving away from the pan to let the sauce simmer for a bit, stepping in between Charles’s legs. His hands come to rest on Charles’s knees, and he leans forward so his nose brushes against Charles’s. Charles goes cross-eyed trying to look at him. “I am proud of you,” he whispers, in that small space between them, and then leans forward and captures Charles lips in a soft, slow kiss.

He remembers their first kiss, suddenly. That kiss in Miami, that wasn’t real but felt like it. This one feels real and it is. Max will probably never get over that, how this is something he gets to have now, after almost a year of thinking it was only ever going to be a fantasy. He pulls away, leans his forehead against Charles’s. For a moment they just stand there, in their kitchen, breathing each other in.

Eventually, Max pulls away. “Hey, that reminds me,” he says, “You never told me about the office plant fiasco that made the finance department so mad.”

Charles frowns and then his eyes light up. “Oh, you’re right, I haven’t! God, that’s such a good story actually-“

“Do you smell burning?” Max interrupts him, and then turns to his pasta sauce with a panic, which is bubbling rather violently. “Fuck,” Max says, rushing over to stir it. The damage is done, and it definitely is a little burnt in places, but it should still be edible. At the same time, the timer beeps for the pasta, and Charles takes the pan from the stove to drain it, as Max finishes the pasta sauce.

It’s not until they’re in bed, hours later, Charles snoring peacefully beside him, when Max realizes Charles never ended up telling him about the office plants.

#also!!!! im glad you liked the fic thank you ;-;#lestappen #silly me (to fall in love with you)#drabble

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once-upon-an-imagine · 2 years

Text

Coming Soon...

hello, my loves! so, I took a couple of weeks off because I was on vacation and now I have NO IDEA what to write next 😂 so, I thought I would ask what you loves would like to read!

this will be a long post so, adding the Keep Reading so you can see each masterlist and the coming up work for each fandom and character! or go to the Masterlists and you can see them there 😊

so, please dm me, stop by my inbox or comment which story you'd like to read next 😁😁😁

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

You have walked the halls of Hawkins High unseen. If it wasn’t because Eddie Munson and his Hellfire Club had found you, you probably wouldn’t even have any friends. You knew someone like your all-time crush Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington wouldn’t notice you in a million years. Until you get paired up for a project and he finally learns your name.

How Will I Know (Chapter 2)

Faithfully

You know people say that Hawkins is haunted. And you are aware that there are some weird things going on all the time. But you do not know what this has to do with your boyfriend, Steve, spending so much time with his ex-girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and you can’t help but to start thinking things with her might not be as over as he told you they were.

With Or Without You

You dive into the Lover’s Lake before anyone can stop you and come back to tell everyone about the Watergate. But then, something pulls you back to the Upside Down and all you can see are bats around you so you feel like this is the end. Until you suddenly see Steve Harrington coming back for you and saving you. (mixing three similar requests)

The Time Of My Life

When you got the job at Family Video, you thought the best part would be to get to watch movies with your friend, Robin. You didn’t expect for it to be the really cute guy that you got to work with.

It Must Have Been Love

When you go to the Upside Down, you start noticing how your boyfriend is acting towards his ex-girlfriend. He doesn’t seem to think that anything is wrong, until he notices a certain metalhead pay you more attention than he is. (kind of mixing two similar requests)

Eddie Munson

[Harrington!Reader] Your senior year was supposed to be the best one in your life. But when Jason broke up with you, and turned the entire school against you by spreading rumors about you, you can count with your hand the people that talk to you. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, Nancy, and Robin. But there might be a new one you can add to the list. One you never thought possible. Eddie Munson.

There Are Worse Things I Could Do (Chapter 3)

That Went Wrong

Eddie Munson with the prompt “I think that went wrong in every way it could’ve.”

Never Tear Us Apart

It’s been a long time since Billy died. It has been even a longer time since he and you had broken up. You are moving on with Eddie and you have never been happier. So why are you getting headaches, nightmares and seeing things that aren’t there? (Set in S4; this might be a two-part because I’m mixing two similar requests).

Say, Say, Say

You’re new at school and Eddie instantly takes an interest in you when he realizes you know quite a lot about D&D and you want to join The Hellfire Club. (mixing two similar requests)

Don’t You Forget About Me

You have never been in detention. You feel as if this is the worst of your life, until you meet someone there that might make detention just bearable. (mixing two requests)

I Wanna Dance With Somebody

Eddie has always known that one of the main reasons why he fell in love with you is because you are the most opposite to him he can think of. So why is that now one of the things that is making him feel insecure about his relationship with you?

Fame

While driving back home, you notice you recognize the song playing on the radio. It’s not from a movie though, or from one of the famous artists you listen to. No, this is from your favorite artist, a very familiar song you’ve heard endless of times at bars and garage practice.

Opposites Attract

Argyle

You and Eddie are probably the oddest couple in school. You have never mind, you love all of your differences. But sometimes Eddie feels a little insecure about your relationship and why you would choose to be with someone like him.

Part Time Lover

(500 Miles)

[Hopper!Reader] After moving to California with your sister and you new family, you think maybe you’ll finally get some peace. But, of course, you are now driving across the country in your boyfriend’s pizza van, on your way back to Hawkins.

You have been in love with your best friend since you can remember, but you’ve never had the courage to tell him, fearing he might not feel the same. However, when you confide in Jonathan, he convinces you to finally take the leap.

A Kind Of Magic

Bullies are something you’ve had to deal with your whole life. You try to ignore it and not let it bother you. But the moment your boyfriend sees how people made fun of you, he immediately intervenes and stands up for you. (Warning: reader gets bullied for having a learning disability)

Robin Buckley

Holding Out For A Hero

You volunteer yourself to find the Watergate before anyone else does. When you resurface and something pulls you back by your leg, Robin doesn’t need to think twice to go after you.

I Think We’re Alone Now

Every time you come into Family Video, you go and talk to Steve. Robin feels heartbroken, thinking you’re just another girl that has a big crush on him. Little does she know, it’s his very cute co-worker you have your eye on.

Steddie (Steve & Eddie)

Running Up That Hill

Against your boyfriends’ wishes you decide it’s what’s best for everyone if you are the bait for Vecna. You you stay back in the attic with Max and Lucas. Steve and Eddie try to make it back as quickly as they can but it might be too late. (Warning: reader is cursed by Vecna and gets hurt)

Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now

Everyone in your group could feel the sexual tension between you, Steve and Eddie. Which is probably why they all ganged up and planned to have the three of you share a bed to see if you would finally admit your feelings.

James Potter

**********************************************

Marauders Era

I’ll Hold My Breath

[Lupin!Reader] During a Quidditch match, your boyfriend notices you start having trouble breathing and calls it off. When he calls your brother from the stands, but he’s unable to help, he takes it upon himself to make it better.

Sirius Black

Just Give Me A Reason (Chapter 5)

[Snape!Reader] Coming back for another year in Hogwarts meant you and your brother were away from your worst tormentor. But when your school tormentor finds out about it, things are about to change and you are not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. (Warning: mentions of abuse)

Dog Days Are Over

Ever since you can remember, dogs have always hated you. They bite you, they make you fall down, they hurt you, and you became terrified of them. So why is this big black dog making you feel incredibly safe and happy, proving to be the exception of y our bad luck.

Lover

[Potter!Reader] Being in a secret relationship with your brother’s best friend was not something you exactly planned. But now, that it’s been months and your brother is starting to get suspicious, you have no idea how to tell him without him wanting to kill Sirius. (Might be related to Style)

Can’t Buy Me Love

Sirius has always notice that you never buy anything when you go to Hogsmeade. He also notices how much you stare at a specific dress in Gladrags Wizardwear so he decides to get it for you.

Remus Lupin

Too Good At Goodbyes (Chapter 6)

Twelve years ago, Lily and James Potter were brutally murdered. Twelve years ago, Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban for a crime he did not commit. Twelve years ago Remus Lupin left you to take care of a one-year-old Harry on your own. Twelve years ago Severus Snape was the only person who was there for you. And now, Remus is back to teach at Hogwarts with you, as Harry courses his third year, and Sirius Black escaped Azkaban.

Green Green Dress

[Evans!Reader] Your sisters invite your boyfriend and his friends to watch you perform without your knowledge. Remus is really excited to see you sing, until he hears the lyrics of the song you’re performing and he sees the hands of your co-star all over you.

Black Magic

[Black!Reader] You have always had a crush on your brother’s best friend, Remus. But you are certain that he only looks at you as Sirius’ little sister who barely speaks and always gets sick. (Prequel to Bent)

Severus Snape

What Once Was Mine

Albus Dumbledore recruited you two years ago to become the new Potions teacher. And in those two years he also had a secret assignment for you. One that you weren’t sure you would be able to complete successfully. One that, should you fail, it would mean you will lose the love of your life.

**********************************************

Golden Trio Era

Fred Weasley

Bad Liar (Chapter 4)

Coming back to Hogwarts for your sixth year didn’t start as you expected when you have to witness your ex-boyfriend parade around as one of the champions with his new girlfriend. While you’re in a party that your house threw, you’re fed up with listening to him talking about his new relationship and to have a guy you have no interest in pining over you. So, you do the first thing you could think of. You kiss Fred Weasley.

Right To Be Wrong Series

[Malfoy!Reader] A series of related one-shots in different times looking at the relationship between a Weasley and a Malfoy.

George Weasley

Secret Love Song

[Diggory!Reader] Your brother, Cedric is very protective over you. One day, he happens to notice how George Weasley is too close to you.

Charlie Weasley

Hanging By A Moment (Chapter 7)

Your best friend Percy convinces you to go home with him for the holidays and asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend since he’s not out to his family. You accept, wanting to help your friend and thinking it shouldn’t be hard, right? That is until you meet his very much attractive, older brother, Charlie.

She Is Love

Charlie loves to make you blush and nervous because he knows you have a crush on him and he has a crush on you, but he doesn’t like it when someone else makes you blush or nervous.

I’m Yours

Even if you’ve been friends with the twins forever, your boyfriend Charlie still feels a little bit jealous of how close you are with his two younger brothers.

Learn To Fly

You have ran out of excuses to tell your boyfriend and you have no choice but to cave in. And Charlie is determined to show you that flying isn’t all that bad.

Bill Weasley

The Closest Thing

Bill falls in love with his little brothers’ best friend but he is certain that she would not feel the same after seeing him with his werewolf scars.

Holding Hands

Bill has always been fascinated with the way your hands are so much smaller than his.

Percy Weasley

Come Back

You think you have your crush for Percy under control, until the two of you have to share a bed.

Theodore Nott

Smile (Chapter 3)

You have always found Theodore Nott to be a very interesting person. And when he asks you to tutor him in Herbology, you realize he is also a very sweet person. There is only one thing that you’re missing and that you’re dying to see. You want to see him smile.

Blaise Zabini

Scared

Blaise realizes his actual feelings for you. He just hopes it’s not too late.

Pansy Parkinson

I Want You To Want Me

You still don't know how to deal with the fact of being in love with your best friend, so your other friends decide to help you.

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