What Is Your Taylor Swift Song, The One That Nobody Else Gets Or Appreciates The Way You Do?

what is your taylor swift song, the one that nobody else gets or appreciates the way you do?

it was february and i blinked & now June is TOMORROW

if you could only listen to three Taylor albums for the rest of your life, which ones would you pick?

I can’t even think about that or I’m going to

imagine if taylor brings maisie out during the acoustic set and they perform a mashup of peter x wendy

Here is the third chapter of spotlight on me, baby where are you? (Originally a one shot named “emails I can’t send”)

I’m having so much fun writing this series!

Word Count: 1.7k

Enjoy! Please let me know what you think! 😚

~~

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Well, she couldn’t do that in the peace-killing device she wore. Aelin was pretty sure her dress was slowly suffocating her.

“At least you look hot,” Lysandra had shrugged when Aelin had mentioned this to her best friend and stylist. “And that’s all that matters at the Grammy after party, isn’t it?”

Now, Aelin blew out a breath as she stared out the tinted window to the building before her. Everywhere, celebrities were exiting their luxury vehicles and sashaying their way towards the party. She thought they looked like ants crawling over their nest.

“Ready?” Aedion, sitting on the other side of the car, asked. He was clad in sweats and a white T-shirt, hair pulled back. Lysandra leaned against him, a hand on her boyfriend’s knee, the green-eyed beauty wearing a simple black dress. For a moment, Aelin was overcome with a devastating envy; not just for her friends’ obvious bliss in their relationship, but for their life. After the Grammys performance, their job was done, and they could drive home and relax on the couch, watch Netflix, and go to sleep.

Not Aelin. No, because of the life she’d so desperately wanted, she’d squeezed into her dress and was carted off into the limo moments after the exhausting event that was the Grammys. Now, she would spend the next five hours maintaining her perfect image, avoiding the cruel paparazzi and pandering to the ones she knew her agent had paid. She’d be lucky if she got to sleep before five in the morning. That is, if she could sleep at all.

Aelin couldn’t help feeling alone. She’d never tell anyone else this, of course; complaining about her life just felt privileged and spoiled. The only person who truly understood was…

Was…

Gone. Somebody else’s to love.

Snapping back to reality, Aelin forced a smile and nodded. “Of course.”

She turned back to the window and took a final breath, closing her eyes as she let her face melt into the mask she’d perfected over the time since her break into the industry; the arrogance, the casual beauty, the always-present amusement. Looking over her shoulder, she shot her friends a wink before the door opened and she stepped out onto the street.

Instantly, she was overwhelmed by the chaos of it all; the flash of the cameras, the shouting of the paparazzi.

“Aelin, over here!”

“Aelin, how did it feel to perform at the Grammys without any nominations?”

“Here, Aelin!”

“Aelin, who are you wearing tonight?”

“Look here, Aelin!”

“How were the Grammys, Aelin?”

“One smile, Aelin!”

“Aelin, how did it feel to perform your pointed single in front of ex Whitethorn?”

A wave of cold washed over Aelin, and she swallowed and locked her spine. Plastering a smirk on her face, she moved toward the entrance, letting her hips swing with every step. She felt and saw the lightbulbs flash, and kept her eyes on the entrance. The guard at the door gave her a smile and a nod, stepping aside to let her in. Aelin walked through the threshold and sighed, shoulders slumping for one second before she forced her posture perfect again.

Here we go.

__

The music was too loud.

Much, much too loud - meant to drown out the chatter of the industry’s finest. Rowan wondered how much people paid to have their music played at events like these.

“Rowan?”

Rowan blinked and looked down, straight into big brown eyes. Lyria smiled softly up at him, the action lighting up her face from pretty to beautiful. She reached out, curled her fingers around Rowan’s dress shirt and tugged. Obliging her, Rowan leaned down, turning his head so she could whisper into his ear.

“Can we go find the rest of the group?” she asked, her lips grazing the shell of his ear. Rowan pulled back and nodded, offering her his arm to take as they left the room. Instantly, the chaos of the main room was muted as they stepped into a hallway. “Oh, it was agonizingly loud in there, wasn’t it?” Lyria asked.

“I don’t understand why they always crank the music up to the top volume,” Rowan grumbled, shaking his head. “I was about to lose feeling in my ears.”

Lyria giggled, a soft, breathy sound. “Good thing I saved you.”

“Good thing.”

They made their way through the crowds, craning their necks to find the rest of The Cadre. Rowan welcomed the quiet Lyria offered him, letting his mind wander. He still felt shaky, totally on edge. How could he go on through this stupid party, full of vain, vapid people, after what had happened just two hours before? He didn’t know how he’d held on so long without breaking down, honestly. Most likely thanks to Lyria’s sweet presence.

“There!” the girl in question said, pointing through the crowd. Rowan instantly saw the backs of the heads of Gavriel, Fenrys, and Lorcan, and began gently tugging Lyria towards them. He felt his spirits rise at the thought of talking to his friends, debriefing the Grammys, discussing the awards…They reached the group and his friends turned, letting him see who they were all talking to -

Oh, gods.

Oh, fucking gods.

Standing there, in all her glory. Dressed in a tight red dress that stopped mid-thigh and hugged every curve, sleeveless with a dipping neckline. A gold necklace was draped across a perfect collarbone, drawing the eyes to a delightful amount of cleavage - just enough to tease but modest enough to maintain control. Golden hair swooped back with gold clips, two perfect strands framing the face..that face. High cheekbones. A pair of full lips painted red to match the dress. Darkened eyelashes and a cat eye to accentuate those blue, fiery eyes.

At the sight, Rowan almost fell to his knees.

He thought half-hysterically that far below him, some dark god was laughing his ass off as Rowan drowned in those eyes…that perfect shade of blue, that untamable fire he’d always adored…

Rowan forced his gaze away from Aelin Galathynius, and just like that, he was in control again. His legs were once again steady and strong. His heart, on the other hand, was still hammering like he’d run a race.

“Oh, Rowan!” Gavriel stammered, looking nervous. Rightfully so. Rowan was going to kill him once they were out of here. “We - we were looking for you, but we couldn’t find you guys…” His voice trailed off, most likely thanks to the death-promise that was undoubtedly in Rowan’s eyes.

“We were in the main room,” Lyria replied for him. “It got too loud for Rowan, though. Old man.” She chuckled, patting his arm.

Old man. Rowan wondered if Lyria knew what she was doing, making that joke. He dared a glance…

Her eyes were full of flame, lips pursed. His gaze dropped to her hand, currently holding a flute of champagne, and watched her slender pointer finger tap against the glass, an almond nail clacking against the surface. Her tell, one that no amount of media training could stamp out of her. She was angry.

Rowan felt the ghost of a smile around his mouth. He loved the sight of Aelin Galathynius in a rage.

No. He tamped down on the thought before it could go any farther.

He knew why she was mad. He let the train of thought carry him away, to better times…

Old man…

Old man…

—“You old man!” The fond joke he’d grown accustomed to hearing. He’d rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair, smirking at her shrieks of fake rage.

“Sorry, we’ve got to get home…this old man here needs to be in bed before eleven.” The excuse she’d give their friends whenever his hands would trace below her lower back, or when he’d press pleading kisses to the back of her neck when nobody was looking. It was his favorite insult, given that it usually led to fingernails dragging down his back, a head thrown back in ecstasy, pleasure unlike he’d ever known.

“You’re such an old man.” The words he’d beheld in her eyes after his stiff and formal introduction to her father. She hadn’t even had to say anything for him to understand. He’d thrown her a wink and pressed a kiss to her mouth, reveling in her delighted laughter, arms around his neck. He’d pulled her to him, hugging her tight, breathing in her lemon verbena shampoo. Glancing up, he’d seen her father watching them at the door and knew the sight had won the man’s approval more than any conversation would. —

Rowan pushed away the memories. The joy of those days had now turned to despair. The once-beloved words, old man, as sacred as phrases of love, felt distorted and dirty coming from Lyria’s pink lips. Clearing his throat, he opened his mouth to speak-

“Rowan can’t stay in one place for long before he leaves, can he?”

All heads whipped to the cool-faced beauty standing before them. The words were dripping with acid, but in a voice so melodic it almost didn’t pierce Rowan’s heart.

Almost.

Gavriel, Fenrys, and Lorcan shifted, all finding the floor, their drinks, the ceiling suddenly riveting. Rowan swallowed and squared his shoulders. “Aelin-” he began.

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had that problem with my boyfriend,” Lyria’s soft voice floated up from next to him, edged with a steel he’d never heard before from her. “We left because I wanted to.” She turned to him, smiling, and stroked his cheek once before letting her hand fall and grasp his tightly. “He’s always so responsive to my needs,” she said sweetly. Honeyed words, meant to choke.

Aelin’s nostrils flared, and she cocked her head in a move so animalistic a distant voice in Rowan’s mind wondered if she was descended from a leopard. A terrifying smile graced her mouth, eyes frozen in rage. Part of Rowan shrank back as his gaze darted from woman to woman. One feline and dangerous, the other doe-eyed and deceptively soft.

The soft part of Lyria, he saw, had gone as quickly as her loyalty to Aelin.

Aelin took one step forward. A single step, that had the entire group bracing themselves. Her words were breathy and tinged with dark amusement.

“Let’s see how long that lasts, sweetheart.”

@aelinchocolatelover @renxzs @throneofshadows @mariaofdoranelle

I will never get over this

The Inner Circle - A Court of Thorns and Roses

Artist: @tangerine.eileen