#Taylor’s NYU graduation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

foxes-that-run · 5 months

Text

But Daddy I Love Him

Daddy I love him is an Ariel quote, when Ariel gives up her voice for love. Taylor has given up love for her voice (career), but also not spoken up for what she wants most. But Daddy I Love Him is a continuation of a theme of how fame and fandoms have affected Taylor's personal life. What I love about this song is it sounds like an older Taylor Swift song, she embraces a country sound and speaks her mind.

While the parallels to the reaction to a relationship in May 2023 can be seen, this overlooks much of her experience with this behaviour. I don't mean to say it is not an element, but it is far from a complete story to say it is about ending a 3 week relationship with someone about whom she also said "And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive" on the same record.

In her NYU Graduation address in May 2022 Taylor had part of the concept in this already swirling in her mind, a full year before she dated Matty Healy:

Having journalists write in-depth, oftentimes critical, pieces about who they perceive me to be made me feel like I was living in some weird simulation, but it also made me look inward to learn about who I actually am. Having the world treat my love life like a spectator sport in which I lose every single game was not a great way to date in my teens and twenties, but it taught me to protect my private life fiercely. Being publicly humiliated over and over again at a young age was excruciatingly painful but it forced me to devalue the ridiculous notion of minute by minute, ever fluctuating social relevance and likability.

What Taylor is referring to is the treatment by the media and fandoms throughout her career, but this was never more of an issue than 2012-2014. Nothing is a terrifying as a teenager on fledgeling social media. This TikTok creator describes it perfectly:

From tabloids, twitter, tumblr, even people who looked like Taylor were abused.

So yes, Harry has had and worn t-Shirt with the song title for years, and yes they have both dressed up as Ariel. But that is not all that makes this song about Taylor loosing her love over fan behaviour... it's because she did. She lost the love she wrote 1989 including "This love left a permanent mark / This love is glowing in the dark" about. And it continues today, there are a lot of people who still call Harry's partners vile names and think it is OK to treat others poorly because they suggest he could care for someone. I think anyone who's read this far knows exactly what I mean, probably first hand.

This affected Taylor the point the Clean Speeches on the 1989 Tour were on this topic, every night she talked about bullying, self worth and holding onto love.

youtube

The 'Daddy' is not just the fans and media, but probably her team also. I think the varied shapes in the CDs are to show this comes in many forms and roles, not just one experience. As Taylor said to Rolling Stone in 2014 before 1989 was released:

Lyrics

[Verse 1] I forget how the West was won I forget if this was ever fun I just learned these people only raise you To cage you Sarahs and Hannahs in their Sunday best Clutching their pearls, sighing, “What a mess” I just learned these people try and save you ‘Cause they hate you

For the international fans like myself 'How the West was Won' is a 1960's film about American colonisation. I think the opening 2 lines do 2 things, place us in a country setting and also tell us Taylor cares more about speaking her mind than what may be higher bigger goals.

The second half of this verse goes on to set out that it is fans who are approaching her love lost as trauma porn, and I am here for it.

I also note the cage reference, Taylor (and Harry) have a long theme of being caged or trapped by fame, she has a literal cage in her Nashville apartment, he has a cage tattoo and they have used cage, glass boxes, fishbowls, snowglobe imagery. Here she points out the fans are not really there for her, they are seeking to control her.

[Pre-Chorus 1] Too high a horse for a simple girl To rise above it They slammed the door on my whole world The one thing I wanted

The pre-chorus furthers that the final straw has been broken, she's been cornered by fans to give up something she cares for.

Vigante Shit "Ladies always rise above / Ladies know what people want / Someone sweet and kind and fun /The lady simply had enough"

Is It Over Now? "I was hoping you’d be there and say the one thing I’ve been wanting, but no"

That is the only time Taylor has sung about ‘wanting one thing' before. This also reminds me of the Delicate Behind the Scenes, where she said she got a note from a lover and wants to be with him but realises 'it can never be him'

[Chorus] Now I’m running with my dress unbuttoned Scrеaming, “But, Daddy, I love him I’m having his baby” No, I’m not, but you should see your faces I’m telling him to floor it through thе fences No, I’m not coming to my senses I know he’s crazy, but he’s the one I want

In the chorus Taylor acts out a churlish child yelling at a father. The 'daddy' is many roles, her actual parents, fans, media and probably record company and PR people who told her she could be with the one she loved, throughout her life. She says the matching line to Harry's Kiwi, which has the same meaning.

Taylor 'floors it through the fences, fed up and unwilling to listen. This is great imagery, to break through fences, and also as metaphorical fences that have been placed around what considered acceptable for her. Cars are also a Haylor theme, including Run below and often used as a metaphor for their love escaping as it is here. (All I know is that you drove us off the road / Let’s get out of this town, drive out of the city, away from the crowds)

Is It Over Now?: Was it over when he unbuttoned my blouse?

Run: And my so-called friends, they don’t know I’d drive away before I let you go

In Kiwi Harry yells a tabloid line followed with it's none of your business. In his Harry's House ONO complete with pointing at the camera and crowd. Taylor also referenced these same tabloids headlines in the Reputation magazine.

Kiwi "I'm having your baby / It's none of your business"

[Verse 2] Dutiful daughter, all my plans were laid Tendrils tucked into a woven braid Growing up precocious sometimes means Not growing up at all He was chaos, he was revelry Bedroom eyes like a remedy Soon enough, the elders had convened Down at the city hall

In the second verse Taylor establishes that she has gone everything asked of her:

Style - "I got that good girl faith and a tight little skirt"

Style - "So it goes, he can’t keep his wild eyes on the road"

Yet is denied freedom and the elders decree the match is unsuitable. I think the elders are her team. She describes the muse as chaos and revelry. This is very reminiscent of the I Knew You Were Trouble introduction poem, but while in 2012 Taylor was contrite and said it was too much she now revels in the revelry:

"And the crazy thing is I don't know if I'm ever gonna feel that way again, but I don't know if I should. I knew his world moved too fast and burned too bright, but I just thought, how can the devil be pulling you toward someone who looks so much like an angel when he smiles at you? Maybe he knew that when he saw me. I guess I just lost my balance. I think that the worst part of it all wasn't losing him it was losing me"

youtube

[Pre-Chorus 2] “Stay away from her” The saboteurs protested too much Lord knows the words we never heard Just screeching tires and true love

The 'daddy' has now forbidden the love, this is reminiscent of Love Story: "And my daddy said, “Stay away from Juliet”

[Chorus] And I’m running with my dress unbuttoned Screaming, “But, Daddy, I love him I’m having his baby” No, I’m not, but you should see your faces I’m telling him to floor it through the fences No, I’m not coming to my senses I know he’s crazy, but he’s the one I want

'Crazy' and Madness are a Haylor theme, particularly in the Blank Space music video, and these lyrics

Wonderland "And in the end, in Wonderland, we both went mad"

Kiwi "She's driving me crazy, but I'm into it (Oh) and "It's getting crazy, I think I'm losing it, I think I'm losing it"

But many more songs:

[Post-Chorus 1] I’ll tell you something right now I’d rather burn my whole life down Than listen to one more second of all this bitching and moaning I’ll tell you something ’bout my good name It’s mine alone to disgrace I don’t cater to all these vipers dressed in empath’s clothing

I love the last line, vipers dressed in empaths clothing, that is exactly what they are.

[Bridge] God save the most judgmental creeps Who say they want what’s best for me Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I’ll never see Thinking it can change the beat Of my heart when he touches me And counteract the chemistry And undo the destiny You ain’t gotta pray for me Me and my wild boy and all of this wild joy If all you want is gray for me Then it’s just white noise, and it’s just my choice

The only time Taylor has described someone as wild in lyrics is in Style "So it goes, he can’t keep his wild eyes on the road"

Afterglow "Chemistry until it blows up"

I love the end of the bridge, elsewhere on the record Taylor describes her long term relationship as grey, staid and boring. For many years some fans have shoehorned this person into lyrics because they want to see themselves in her, as they settle down they want her too. From my point of view some rather loud warning signs in songs were overlooked, or seen as 'she's remembering the past/when they first got together' to avoid accepting she was unhappy and wanted out.

Out of the Woods "The rest of the world was black and white But we were in screaming color"

[Verse 3] There’s a lot of people in town that I Bestow upon my fakest smiles Scandal does funny things to pride, but brings lovers closer We came back when the heat died down Went to my parents and they came around All the wine moms are still holding out But fuck ’em, it’s over

This verse is where I think it becomes clear than the 2023 lens is at best reminding Taylor of a past love, because that relationship never came back. Matty has said they never dated in 2014, there was no controversy around her attending concerts then. They dated for a few weeks then stopped talking, and of story.

However Harry and Taylor did sing about a hidden relationship for years. In fact Taylor wasn't connected to anyone else in a serious way for three years. In particular

Wildest Dreams: I said, “No one has to know what we do”

This Love "This love came back to me, oh, oh, oh"

I know places : "Somethin' happens when everybody finds out / See the vultures circling, dark clouds" and "we're bulletproof I know places (Hide) and you know for me, it's always you"

…Ready For It?: "Island breeze and lights down low, no one has to know"

I Know Places TV's lyric video for got a very TTPD themed look.

[Final Chorus] Now I’m dancing in my dress in the sun and Even my daddy just loves him I’m his lady And, oh, my God, you should see your faces Time, doesn’t it give some perspective? And, no, you can’t come to the wedding I know it’s crazy, but he’s the one I want

Taylor is asking her fans, parents, media if they have grown up, from when they were teenagers playing with her real life, do they have perspective and willing to accept that she loves someone of her choosing?

And no, they can't come to the wedding, but I bet they have Eras Tour tickets.... and some showed up at Jacks.

#Youtube #but daddy i love him #haylor #Taylor Swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department #bdilh #song analysis #Lyric analysis

32 notes · View notes

spideystevie · 2 years

Text

come back ... be here

summary: the summer before college is the cruelest time to fall in love

word count: 4.8k

a/n: got this idea from #17 on this prompt list also loosely based on come back...be here by taylor swift. i am absolutely obsessed with the chasing down/running to your lover to tell them you love them moments in romcoms so i hope this delivers that. there’s some swearing but that’s it. just your classic friends to lovers.

Hawkins has been all you’d ever known. Tree lines and lazy stoplights, friendly smiles and small town camaraderie. It was as much a comfort as it was a cage. The fear you’d always be stuck in your tiny hometown, never getting the chance to branch out and plant roots in other places. It was a stinging ache in your chest, monotonous and persistent.

Your big escape lived in New York City. There was something in the promise of a city that never slept, of the people you passed never being the same ones each day, of a new beginning that made your chest ache in a different way. Something saccharine yet bittersweet.

The days dragged away, heavy and long, one after the other after you sent away your application. You weren’t sure it would come back as an acceptance, but you also weren’t sure what you would do if it came back as a rejection. It’d be the final nail in the coffin, a finality you couldn’t accept.

March was washed away and April bloomed like wildflowers in the fields. Songbirds chirped as the sun lifted over the horizon, washing the town in hues of orange and gold. A freshness blew in with the wind, sun-drenched and floral. Full of hope and new beginnings.

The wooden chair at your dining table creaks as you sit down. A yawn escapes you, fingers wrapped around your favorite mug filled with fresh coffee. You’d slept in, grateful for a day off at work though you missed being obligated to see your friends for hours a day. The house is quiet, empty like usual with your parents away on business. It makes the sound of the mail coming in from the slot in the door that much louder.

It hits the entryway floor with a smack and you pause, cup of coffee halfway raised to your mouth. You set it down on the table gingerly before standing. The chair screeches against the floor when you push away from the table and stand. You’re still in your sleep shorts and a sweater so old you can’t remember if it belonged to you or Steve first.

Your footsteps are quiet but your knees crack when you bend to pick up the mail. You shuffle through it, freezing at an envelope placed towards the bottom. A purple return address next to the NYU crest, your name clearly printed in the very center. An eager anxiety pricks at your stomach. You drop the stack of bills and miscellaneous mail on the table near your forgotten cup of coffee, feeling more awake than ever.

Your feet carry you up the stairs to your room and you shut the door behind you though there’s no one else home. The letter felt like a ticking bomb you needed to diffuse and you stared at it with a disbelieving awe. You could’ve opened it in the front room of your house but your bedroom seemed like the safest place. A waiting solace if you opened it and everything fell apart.

The envelope is thick and heavy in your hands. You trace your fingertips delicately over the NYU crest in the corner. It feels dreamlike, hazy around the edges and you have to pinch the skin on your wrist to make sure you’re not dreaming.

Maybe you should’ve called Steve before deciding to open up the ticket to your future. But there was something about this moment that felt like you needed to be alone.

You hadn’t thought this moment would come when you graduated a year ago. You’d settled for the few odd courses at the community college nearby, content with stocking tapes at Family Video and saving up money to escape your small town with your best friend.

Steve had been the one to shove the application in your hands, knowing it had been your ultimate goal. You’d protested at first, worried you wouldn’t get in and unwilling to deal with the sadness that’d come with that. But Steve had persisted, nothing but supportive the whole way.

Nerves make your hands tremble as you carefully tear into it and you take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you pull the letter out. Your movements are careful, concise as you inch it out of the envelope. It shakes slightly from the anxious tremor in your hands as you read.

We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to…

You never finish reading it, the paper falling to your bedroom floor as you let out a squeal. Your grin is contagious as you stoop to pick the paper up, practically sliding down the stairs in your home in your haste to leave and tell Steve.

You forget you’re still in your pajamas as you all but speed down the small streets of Hawkins towards Family Video. The acceptance letter, creased and a little wrinkled from your tight grip, sits on the passenger seat of your car. The parking lot is empty, the asphalt shining beneath the springtime sun. You nearly forget to lock your car in your excitement after you park.

The bell above the door jingles as you yank it open, rushing into the store with your letter clutched at your side. It’s empty save for one customer at the back of the store being helped by Robin and Steve who sits behind the counter. He looks up when he hears you come in, an amused and endearing smile taking over when he sees you still in your sleep shorts and that old sweater, hair slightly mussed from sleep. His eyes hone in on the piece of paper at your side.

“I got in!” you exclaim before Steve can greet you, waving the letter in the air and shaking it for good measure. Your smile is bursting at the seams. You’re shining like the sun in the sky. Steve’s mouth parts, jaw falling slack.

“Seriously?” he says it like you’re kidding him but a surge of pride takes over when you nod.

“Seriously!” you wave the letter again. His lips split into the biggest grin and he’s sliding over the top of the counter in a flash. Steve crushes you in a hug, nearly crumpling the letter between the two of you. Your heart swells and picks up its pace at the gesture, something that feels natural though slightly confusing.

“M’so proud of you,” Steve says, voice muffled in your neck. He pulls back, immediately reaching for the paper in your hands to read it for himself. He mumbles it under his breath through the most genuine and proud smile you’ve ever seen on his face. “We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to the school of Liberal Arts at New York University…”

Somehow it sounds even more surreal coming out of Steve’s mouth. Robin comes over a minute later, an eyebrow poised as she takes in your appearance and Steve’s grin, the paper still in his hands. “What’s going on here?”

“I got in!” you grab the paper from Steve, all but shoving it in Robin’s face. Her eyes widen as she looks from the letter to you, back and forth before pulling you into the tightest hug. She pulls back, hands on your shoulders.

“I knew you could do it!” she squeezes your shoulders and then pulls you into another hug. The saccharine and bittersweet ache blooms heavy in your chest watching Robin read over the letter, your two friends fawning over you with more pride than you’ve ever seen. The realization of a goodbye in the future floats around your head and you push it away, leaving it for the end of a summer that has yet to begin.

The summer that follows your acceptance feels like a new beginning. It’s turning a new leaf in life. It flips the page to a new chapter in your friendship with Steve. A delicate beginning rush.

It wasn’t a secret to anyone who watched the two of you that there was something stronger lingering beneath the surface of platonic interactions. The world was a foggy shade of rose, dull enough to go undetected by the both of you.

As June gave way to July and July bled into August, the fog lessened. Vision growing sharper around the edges, dusty rose seeming to permeate it whenever one of you was around the other. The nights spent together grow later and later until you’re minutes away from being asked to stay over instead of being driven back home. It’s lingering glances and fleeting touches, smiling a little too wide when you see him and cheeks burning vermilion when he sees you.

You and Steve fell in love beneath a summer sun, flickers of love spotting in your hearts like new freckles on skin. It’s a blur of honeysuckle walks and close calls, moments spent in Steve’s pool that were more flirty than friendly. You’d almost tasted Steve and chlorine in the dead of July, his lips pressing wet against the plush of your cheek instead as you yelped at a honey bee buzzing past your head. It’s melted ice cream cones leaving you with sticky fingers and late night drives, your head poked out of the car to see the stars in the sky.

The two of you know it before you’re conscious of it. You realize it sooner than Steve, hanging on a thread that something will give before you catch your flight at the end of August. Pulling and tugging at the frayed ends, hoping Steve will join you in the little enclave you’ve carved out in your heart. Steve crash lands into love, head spinning when he realizes it, August feeling like it’s slipping away like a moment in time.

A final summer. It’s the cruelest way to fall in love.

Your last night in Hawkins is spent with Steve. A final movie night. A final goodbye. His arm is wrapped around your shoulders, sinewy muscle a comforting weight while you’re pressed into his side, knees bent and almost resting in his lap.

He let you pick the movie despite it really being his turn to pick. A John Hughes movie plays on the television in his living room, something Steve always associates with you. An empty bowl of popcorn sits by your feet on the couch. Steve smiles when you laugh and pretends to be annoyed when you quote the lines on screen with the characters.

The screen fades to black, feeling like a goodbye in itself. Your stomach drops while the credits rise on the screen. Steve tenses beneath you, the two of you more than aware of what the movie ending means for the two of you. You don’t move, wishing there was a way you could stay here forever.

Steve was your final goodbye before your morning flight tomorrow and you were dreading it.

He would give anything to freeze time for another week just to have more time with you. He knows it’s silly, that you’ll be back when the seasons change again but something in him wants to beg you to stay. You both hesitate by his front door, not knowing how to say goodbye to someone you’ve just begun to love. You dragged out tying your shoes as long as you could, hugged Steve more times tonight than you can count.

Something in him is prodding his brain, urging him to tell you everything like he’d planned to tonight. He’s not sure how he can. You stumble through the whole goodbye, extending it out to the empty street where your car is parked.

Your eyes seem to plead with him. For him to tell you that he’s in love with you too, to ask you to stay. A part of you thinks you would if he asked.

He never does.

He hugs you tight one last time, bodies pressed so close together you think you might melt into one. You wish you could. You lean back enough to look at him, eyes darting all around his face like you’re trying to commit every angle and plane, every freckle and mole to memory.

Steve looks at you with a deep intensity, the beginnings of a confession sitting on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he says, “you’ll call me?”

“So much you’ll be sick of me. I’ll even send letters by carrier pigeon if I have to,” your lips quirk into a sad smile. Steve laughs softly though there’s a seriousness etched into his features.

“I’d never be sick of you,” his voice is husky and low. It spreads heat to every part of your body, makes your heart bruise your rib cage. Something in the way he says it feels like a confession in itself and just when you think you’re going to get one, he presses a long and lingering kiss to your cheek.

He opens the driver's side door of your car for you, giving you a tight smile. You blink at him as he takes a couple steps back towards his front door.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he calls from a few feet away. You muster up as much of a smile as you can and nod. You grip the side of the car door with one hand, the other resting on the roof of your car. You watch his back recede from you as he gets closer to his front door.

“Hey, Steve?” you call out. The tiny flame of confidence inside you gets snuffed out when he turns around, eyes a little wide and his hands in his front pockets. You swallow, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. There’s a long pause as you debate what to say, a confession now sitting on your tongue. Instead, “miss you already.”

“Miss you too,” his smile is sad, twinged with heartbreak. “Have a safe flight.”

And then he’s turning back around and you get in your car, the engine revving to life. You don’t drive off until you see the front door close behind him.

Steve feels incredibly mopey the next morning. A heavy disappointment hangs on his shoulders, the regret of not telling you eating at his stomach. The pestering nag from the night before persists even as he gets dressed and heads to work.

When you had gotten your acceptance letter, excitement bleeding out of you and pride heavy in Steve’s eyes, the day you had to leave seemed like it was years away. To Steve, it felt like he blinked and it was here. In a few short hours you’d be on a flight to New York, miles away from Hawkins until the winter holidays.

It didn’t feel right going into work without you in the front seat of his car. It didn’t feel right that he’d be stocking tapes with Robin while you were soaring through the sky overhead.

He gets to work the same time you arrive at the airport. A new box of tapes sits on the counter that Robin has already started working on. A few stacks of new releases are already sitting near the computer when he clocks in.

“Thought we weren’t getting another shipment until next week,” he says, sidling up next to Robin to help sort through them. She gives him a once over, taking note of the downturn of his lips and mopey look in his eyes.

“Thought you weren’t gonna be coming in today,” she replies, moving to the computer to enter a stack of the new tapes into the system. Steve pauses, eyebrows furrowing as he looks at Robin’s side profile. She pretends she can’t feel his eyes burning into her skin.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, leaning against the counter. Robin doesn’t look over, fingers flying across the keyboard.

“Figured you’d be too depressed to come in today. Isn’t today the day of the big move?” she asks, more than aware of the answer. She’d stopped by yesterday to say goodbye on her way into work. “You told them last night didn’t you? That was the plan.”

Steve clenches his jaw, trying to ignore the regret eating at his insides and the nagging that pounded his head. He doesn’t say anything, bracing himself for Robin’s response. At his silence, her fingers stop moving and she turns to look at him. She raises her eyebrows, annoyance clear on her face.

“Seriously? You let them go without saying-”

“Yes, god, Robin, it’s not a big deal, I’ll just…say it when they come home in a few months,” he tries to shrug it off, turning back to sort through the new tapes. He pretends he doesn’t notice Robin’s eyes boring into his skull. She rolls her eyes, turning back to the computer with a sigh but she doesn’t say anything else.

A silence blankets the store. The only sound comes from the keyboard as Robin types and plastic hitting plastic as Steve stacks tapes on top of each other. Steve frowns when he lifts the next VHS out of the box. It’s the newest John Hughes, one you’d made him see in theaters more than once.

The nagging from before grows louder in his head. His head is spinning as he stares at the cover, mind reeling with impulses.

“Robin, what time is it?”

She turns and grabs his arm, twisting it towards her to read the time off his watch. “8:16. Why?”

“I gotta go,” he drops the tape on the top of a pile, rounding the counter. Your flight didn’t leave until just after 10, if he left now he’d make it in time. He’d have to.

His feet carry him faster than ever to the door. He’s pure adrenaline, brisk movements that pause when he reaches the entrance to the store. He looks back to Robin, one hand ready to shove the door open.

“If Keith asks, tell him I…” he trails off. Robin looks at him with an amused glint in her eye. “Just cover for me.”

The bell rings overhead as he runs out of the store and to his car. She shakes her head, a smile on her face as she watches him peel out of the parking lot, tires squealing as he goes.

Steve has no regard for the speed limit as he drives, the only thought on his mind being you. He feels sick to his stomach with adrenaline, hyper focused on getting to you before you get on the plane to take you to New York. The airport is an hour away, maybe even less with how heavy his foot is on the gas when he merges onto the highway.

Trees whip past the windows in a blur, the small town of Hawkins disappearing into the horizon behind him as he nears bigger buildings and a busier world. The Indianapolis Airport sits on the outer edge of the city, seemingly just as crowded as he remembers it to be when he was younger.

Steve races into a parking spot, his tires braking with a screech against the asphalt. He throws the car into park and almost forgets to lock it behind him in his haste. He’s all but sprinting through the crowds of people at the airport, swerving around families and yelling apologies over his shoulder when he bumps into someone.

He practically skids to a stop in front of the list of departing flights, eyes racing over random gates and times to find yours. His chest heaves and he’s sure he looks a little manic. A twinge of anxiety eats at his stomach when he notices the time ticking away on his watch.

The place feels infinitely bigger than Steve remembers it being as a kid and he gets lost once or twice, frustration pricking the nerves under his skin. His sneakers squeak against the floor as he hustles towards your terminal and to your gate.

If he could go back and change anything, he’d have never played it so nonchalant around you. Steve would’ve kissed you breathless months ago, would’ve confessed to you the moment he fell. He wouldn’t have let you leave last night without making sure you knew.

He’s out of breath when he finally reaches your gate and his heart sinks into a deep pit in his chest when he realizes it’s empty.

Steve thinks he might be sick.

His hands press against his temples and he turns in a small circle, eyes squeezed shut. He kicks at the ground, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the linoleum.

“God dammit,” he groans, dropping his hands. He opens his eyes only to watch as the plane moves away from the gate, taking you with it. He shakes his head. “Fuck.”

He says it louder than he really anticipates, vaguely aware of the stares he gets from parents and their kids waiting in nearby gates for their flights. The inside of his chest feels hollow, a cracked shell that used to house a beating vessel.

The sound of his voice pricks your ears and you look up from where you’re sitting, eyes searching for the source of an all too familiar cadence. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be here but it doesn’t stop the anticipation that rises beneath your skin.

Your heartbeat immediately picks up speed when you catch sight of him. Steve Harrington stands at the empty gate across the way. His back is to you but you’d recognize him anywhere, his slight slouch in posture and the waves of brown hair at the back of his head. What the hell is he doing here?

“Steve?”

His head snaps up, immediately whipping around to find the source of your voice. He thinks he has to be hallucinating when he turns around and you’re standing right there. An old sweater of his hangs off your shoulders, a small bag by your feet. He wonders if it smells like a mix of his cologne and your perfume.

You have to be a mirage, a glimmer appearing out of light. The confused pinch between your brows deepens, something that couldn’t be replicated, and he stares at it, wondering how the skin there would feel against his lips if he kissed it away.

“Hey,” he breathes it out, stepping towards you until he’s a few feet away. You shake your head at him and the Family Video vest he’s still wearing, his orange name tag glinting in the fluorescent airport lighting.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, a little exasperated, your arms wrapping around yourself. He looks around at the bustling airport, catching the sign above your gate and realizing he had been looking at the wrong one all along. You hadn’t left him yet. His gaze lands back on you.

“I couldn’t let you go,” he says.

“Steve, what are you talking about?” your confusion only deepens, intermingling with a smidge of frustration.

“I was up all night thinking-”

“That’s never good,” you joke, your smile half hearted and faltering when he doesn’t even crack a smile at it.

“-about you and how you’re finally going off to college like you always wanted and how I won’t see you for months and how that makes me sick with missing you and the only thing that kept going through my head after I said goodbye to you last night was that I can’t let you go.”

“What?” there aren’t enough words to express the confusion you feel. Steve was the one who’d encouraged you to go from the beginning. He couldn’t be serious but the determined glint in his eyes tells you he was. “What are you-”

“I can’t let you get on that plane without telling you that I’m in love with you.”

His confession hangs heavy in the air between you. The air grows thick, you feel like you can’t breathe properly. You feel like the world is spinning on a new axis, faster than the plane that’s set to take you away. He takes a step closer to you.

“Steve…” your voice can barely be heard over all the noise. He shakes his head a little, eyes pleading a little with you to listen.

“I love the crease you get above your nose when you’re confused,” a step. “I love that you’re the first thing I think about whenever a new John Hughes movie comes in a new shipment,” another step. “I love that my jackets always smell like you whenever you give them back,” another step and you’re toe to toe. You look up at him, eyes gleaming with the beginnings of tears. “I love that you’re the only person I’d drop everything for just so I could speed to the airport to say one final goodbye.”

His knuckles brush against your cheek, his fingers tucking themselves beneath your jaw by your ear. You’re doe-eyed and feeling like you might fall over. Your arms fall to your sides.

“I couldn’t let you get on that plane without telling you.”

You let out a soft laugh, thick with emotion and tears. Steve brushes away one that escapes with his thumb. You shake your head but your face is beaming.

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington,” your face softens, voice dropping. “But god, I’m so in love with you.”

He grins, dipping his head down to press his lips against yours. His other hand comes up to cradle the other side of your jaw. Your hands press against his chest before gripping at the fabric of his work vest.

Kissing Steve feels like second nature, like you should’ve been doing this all along. The world may have been put on a new axis but something has finally clicked into place. It feels like coming home.

The overhead intercom announcing boarding for your flight causes you to pull back. The lovesick look in both of your eyes turns a little sad. You swallow. “That’s me.”

He nods, hands falling away from your face and finding a home in his front pockets. You glance over your shoulder at the line formed by the counter. It’s dwindling rather fast but you waste no time in throwing your arms around Steve’s shoulders.

You hug him to you tightly, squeezing him harder when his arms wrap around your waist. You can feel the tears pricking your waterline again and you squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your face into the side of his neck. You wish there was a way to fuse your bodies together.

Steve loses track of how long you stay like that, holding on tight to each other, not wanting to let go. He’s not sure how he can let you go now, it feels so cruel the feeling that sinks deep into his bones.

How can you miss someone so intensely when they’re still being held in your arms?

The intercom announces the last call and you take one last inhale, desperate to memorize the scent of his cologne and the way it mixes with a scent that’s just him. You press a kiss to his neck, chaste and soft.

“I’m gonna miss you like crazy,” you say, arms loosening their hold as you step back. Steve smiles at you as he nods, his eyes shining with tears and everything else he wishes he could say to you.

“You’ll call me when you land?” he asks, trying to hide the tremble in his voice. You squeeze his hand and nod. He glances at the flight attendant by the entrance to the jetway who’s watching you say goodbye before kissing you one last time.

It’s more firm than before, says everything that you both can’t say and more. When you pull back, he slightly nudges you in the direction of your flight. You bend to grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder.

You hold his hand until you can’t anymore, fingers outstretched towards each other like magnets being pulled apart. Your footsteps are a hurried drag as you go to give your boarding pass to the attendant. An invisible string is being pulled taut between the two of you, willing you to stay together.

You turn to wave one last time, blowing Steve a kiss that he catches and sticks in his front pocket. Your chest aches with longing, you miss him already. He mouths an I love you that has you grinning sadly and then you turn around and walk down the jetway.

You wait until he can’t see you to wipe away the tear that slipped over the curve of your cheek. Something about falling in love like this feels cruel, sinking into the feeling right as you’re about to be worlds away.

Steve stays where you left him until your plane takes off and disappears from view. He misses you immediately, stomach twisting and heart yearning. He loves that he has someone to miss but god does he wish you took him with you.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #📝: a writes!

898 notes · View notes

longlivetv · 2 years

Text

I need you to understand that when I talk about Reputation Tour that is a thing that happened last year but also I need you to understand that an entire lifetime has passed since Taylor’s NYU graduation speech

273 notes · View notes

ilostyou · 2 years

Text

taylor i swear sometimes you are truly my last resort motivating me to get this work done and keep my eye on the prize

#cheesy maybe but genuinely i almost dropped out but after watching her at graduation i said. no i want that i will have that #and as such i am still suffering but everyone pray i get my taylor graduation in may #i want it i WILL get it. i have to jshgjfh #nyu #taylor swift #taylurking #taylor you most definitely will not see this but i do love you lol

0 notes

erineheheh · 1 year

Text

losing things doesn't just mean losing — Taylor Swift

#nyu #graduation #graduation gift #graduate shirt #shirt design #taylor swift shirt #t shirt #Dr. swift #taylor swift #taylor swift merch #taylornation #taylor swift nyu #nyu speech #eras merch #eras tour #the eras tour

1 note · View note

celandeline · 8 months

Text

Summer of Like // Farleigh Start x OC (32)

On the eleventh anniversary of Venetia’s death, I find myself back in England, with Saltburn in the distance.

The wind rips through my hair, but if anything, I’m grateful - it’s the only source of relief from the oppressing heat of the August sun beating down on me. The pros and cons of renting a convertible - no roof, no air conditioning. Farleigh sits in the passenger seat, a cigarette perched between his fingers as he rests his elbow on the door. He smiles when he catches my glance.

I refocus on the road ahead of us. The leather of the steering wheel is hot, and burns a bit when I shift my hands. The glint of the wedding band on my ring finger - still shiny and new - catches my eye for a moment, and a rush of giddiness fills me. Since the wedding, every time I’ve looked at it, I can’t help but smile - even though we’ve been living like we’re married for years.

It doesn’t feel like it’s been eleven years since Farleigh and I met. I can still remember the summer of 2007 like it was yesterday. Endless days by the lake, just lounging about in the grass, talking about everything and nothing all at once. That night we smoked on the roof. All the nights he would slip into my room to complain about Oliver. The first time we kissed - the first time we fucked. How things had taken a turn for the worse the very next day. I don’t think I’ve ever cried as much as I did that summer.

It doesn’t feel like it’s been eleven years - but at the same time it does. All the dots that connect us from then to now are lined up perfectly in my head. It started out rough - juggling my last year at NYU and teaching Farleigh how to be a normal person was hard, not to mention the part-time job I was working on top of it all. But after he’d gotten used to working, and started fiddling around with social media things had gotten easier. By the time I’d graduated, he was pretty much self-sufficient.

Since then, New York has swept the both of us up into her madness. For Farleigh, his social media presence lifted him back up into a social status he was familiar with, hanging out with nepo-babies and fallen-off child actors in the VIP sections of New York's hottest clubs. For a while, he was something of a club queen until he started leaning more into fashion, posting styling tips, high end hauls and purchasing that first sewing machine. God, that thing was loud. I don’t miss it - the one he has now is so much quieter. Fashion blogging turned into being invited to runway events to designing to having his collection featured in Vogue’s last issue. Now, he’s in high demand to style celebrities for red carpets.

I’m happy for him - really. It’s obvious that he loves his work, even if it does mean that our house is covered in fabric scraps. And that I have to go with him to fashion events - not really my scene, but it is fun to see pictures of us on E!News.

For me, it’s been objectively less exciting - but I wasn’t trying to climb my way back up the social ladder. Once I was done with NYU and had my journalism degree, it was tabloid work for a while - reporting on who Taylor Swift was dating or who Ariana Grande had been spotted with that week - until I had woven myself into the industry enough that I could network my way into a more respectable news source. I wrote for the New Yorker for a while, and then The New York Times, and now Time magazine itself. It’s a lot of traveling, but since Farleigh doesn’t work a regular 9-5 he can usually come with me (unless there’s some event), and he likes to. It ‘expands his horizons’ and ‘inspires him to create’ supposedly. I think he just doesn’t want to be home alone.

In all my traveling, I never thought I’d end up back here.

Saltburn glitters in the distance, the winding road leading up to the gates, growing ever closer as we cruise along. When we’d gotten the news that James was sick, I’d reached back out to Elspeth, sending well wishes from the both of us. On a whim, we’d sent them a wedding invitation too. I didn’t really expect anything to come from it - Farleigh was adamant that they would just ignore it, considering how things ended between them. And for a while, it had seemed like he was right - until a handwritten letter from Elspeth had showed up in our mailbox.

It was long winded - of course, it was from Elspeth - and apologetic, explaining how she couldn’t make the wedding because James had died, but insisting that we come back to Saltburn for our honeymoon. Something about it being where we met made her adamant there was no better place to spend the first couple of weeks as a married couple.

After talking it over, we decided to take her up on her offer.

Which is how we’re here, now, gliding down the road to Saltburn in a convertible, Iconapop’s I Love It blasting through the speakers. It feels like being twenty again - the summer sun beating down on my skin, the smell of cigarette smoke trailing from Farleigh’s fingertips, my hair fluttering out behind me as I drive too fast on purpose. I glance over at him - my husband - for a second, catching a glimpse of the way the sun paints him in luxurious gold. He’s gorgeous. He’s always been gorgeous.

Again he catches me looking. “You’re supposed to be driving.” He shouts over the wind and the music.

“I am!” I say. “It was two seconds-”

“Eyes on the road!” He ignores my protests, pointing his cigarette at me threateningly.

I roll my eyes. “Maybe if you were less distracting it wouldn’t be a problem.” I joke. “Stop being so pretty.”

“I couldn’t even if I tried, Eves.” He says, leaning over the center console to smack a kiss to the side of my forehead. Taking one hand off the wheel, I hold out two fingers for his cigarette. He places it between them, and I take a drag before handing it back to him.

God, it feels like being twenty again.

I miss her.

< previous part | next part >

#farleigh start x oc #farleigh start x reader #saltburn #farleigh start #farleigh x reader #saltburn x reader

35 notes · View notes