#taylor swift song drabbles

[ncssian]

time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires, now i’m missing your smile, hear me out. we could just ride around.

a/n: this is soooo long and MAJORLY unedited but it feels perfect for xmas eve so im posting it now. it might even be missing paragraphs but we ride

***

Nesta refused to go fully no-contact with her sisters. To this day, she didn’t know why, but that was how she found herself standing outside Feyre’s house for her mandatory family dinner, held only three times a year.

Three times a year, Nesta had to dress up and submit herself to a painfully awkward night of being left out of conversations and eating mediocre food. Tonight it was for Thanksgiving. She’d long resigned herself to the torture of it all, and she was nothing but grateful that it was only three nights out of the whole year.

That still didn’t make knocking on the door any easier, however.

“Nesta?” a voice behind her asked, immediately raising every hair on her neck. She turned away from the front door to find a familiar face walking up the lit pathway to the manor’s stone porch, approaching her.

Oh God. “Cassian?”

Wow, did he look… different. In the three years since he’d left to work for the Peace Corps, Cassian’s muscles had subtly grown not bigger, but more defined, his clothes now better-fitting. His dark hair was shorter than she’d ever seen it before, no longer wild and untamed, but still long enough to fall near his chin. He looked so tame in comparison to the hulking giant she’d used to know.

He laughed and rushed up to her to sweep her into a crushing bear hug, making her gasp in surprise. They’d never been close enough in the past for a greeting this enthusiastic, but maybe the Peace Corps had made him demented. “How have you been?” he exclaimed, setting her down on her feet and placing a hand at her shoulder so she wouldn’t tip over. “I was wondering whether I’d get to see you tonight.”

Nesta could only open and shut her mouth, no words coming out. “You’re back,” was all she could say.

He grinned wide. His smile had remained the same. “I am.”

Her mind frantically flipped through the encyclopedia of social etiquette. “It’s good to see you again,” she forced out. “How was—life?”

His laugh was quiet, but she didn’t know what was funny. “I should be asking you the same thing. What are you waiting out here in the cold for?” He nudged her softly.

“Just trying to work up the nerve to knock on the door,” she answered honestly.

“I see.” He nodded. “Well, if we both put our heads together, I'm sure we can manage it before dinner is served.”

Was he making fun of her? His manner seemed serious and earnest, and it was confusing the hell out of Nesta.

Just then, the door swung open, a rush of light and warmth spilling out onto the front porch. “I thought I heard a ruckus outside,” Elain said, thin brows furrowing as her gaze swung to Nesta, then quickly smoothing out with a smile as her eyes landed on Cassian. “Come get out of the cold," she said. "We’re so glad you could make it.”

Nesta knew Elain was addressing both of them, but she couldn’t help but feel the last part had been directed to Cassian more than her.

Cassian swept inside with a grin and greeted Elain with a kiss to her cheek, and Nesta had to force herself to look away. Suddenly the hug she’d gotten no longer felt like overkill. A kiss had to mean more than a hug, right?

“You both are a little late, but you haven’t missed much. I’ll bring everyone else to the dining room,” Elain said, before wandering off down one of the mansion’s grand hallways to get the rest of their friends.

Nesta took in a subtle breath, but a deep one nonetheless, as she set about taking her coat off. It was stupid to be so anxious about a simple dinner. In no less than four hours, she'd be tucked in her warm bed with a swoony romance book, and the whole evening would disappear like the fragments of a bad dream. This was nothing.

Cassian came up to her side as they made their way to the dining room, bending down to speak into her ear. "There's so much I want to catch up with you about. I wish I'd known you were going to be here earlier, I would've prepared more."

Nesta's responding look was confused, if not bewildered. Prepared for what? Was there something grating about her presence that required preparation? He kept saying things that sounded like potential jabs in the softest, friendliest manner.

She ran her jittery hands down the sleek low ponytail of her hair, then the blue velvet of her simple dress. "Yes, well." She didn't follow through with the rest of the sentence.

They arrived at the dining room, where it was both a relief and a weight to no longer be alone with just Cassian. Everyone else in her sister's little friend group was already there, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the platters of food and rushing to claim seats at the table.

Nesta heard several exclamations of "Cassian's here!", all of which she ignored as she tried to decide which seat would suit her best tonight. She might have heard Cassian say, "Nesta's here, too," but it was quickly swallowed up and lost to the rest of the room's conversation.

Cassian took a seat next to Azriel and started pulling out the empty chair beside him. His eyes searched for and met Nesta's just as she picked her seat on the opposite side of the table, near the very end. A look of defeat took over his face as Morrigan took the chair beside him. Nesta didn't understand what the look was supposed to mean, but as it was awkward not to smile at someone after a certain amount of eye contact had been made, she offered him a small smile that probably came off as a tiny grimace before looking away.

After a lot of scrambling around, Elain ended up seated on Nesta's right. Not too bad, as conversation with Elain was less likely to make Nesta's skin crawl than with others at the table.

Everyone started piling their plates with food, and Nesta let Elain take her plate to serve her. It was easier than drawing attention to herself by reaching out and getting the food on her own.

"You shouldn't have come so late, Cassian," Feyre said from the head of the table. "You missed all the appetizers, they’re all finished now."

“Don’t tell me you didn’t save me any of Elain’s lobster rolls,” he said with wide eyes, acting offended.

Elain giggled at that, but the sound seemed more calculated than genuine. It probably wasn't nice to think everything that your sister did was calculated, but Nesta wasn't feeling very nice tonight. She felt like staring into her mashed potatoes while dreaming about a handsome man crashing this dinner party and promptly sweeping her off her feet.

Morrigan and Feyre led the conversation by gossiping about some work friend of Rhysand's they'd run into on their latest shopping trip, and time melded around Nesta and held her captive. She imagined she'd been painted to match the printed wallpaper behind her, rendering herself invisible to the rest of the room.

To everyone except one, that was. But everytime she accidentally made eye contact with Cassian, she looked away before he could even register it. By the time she looked back, he'd refocused on whatever jokes or stories his friends were telling.

Thirty minutes passed by without anyone asking Nesta a question. She counted each one, until—

"So what do you do these days?"

It took a long moment of awkward silence before Nesta looked up from her plate to find Cassian staring at her, his eyes warm. She realized the question had been directed at her. "Me?" she said in disbelief, because she needed the confirmation.

"No, one of these other losers," he teased. Some made noises of mock-offense, while others stifled their laughter.

Nesta shifted uncomfortably at how all the attention in the room had shifted to her. Being ignored wasn't fun, true, but this was far worse. "I run a dance studio," she answered. She didn't mention anything about how she was also a ghostwriter of romance novels on the side, although maybe she might have admitted it if they'd been alone.

Cassian's eyes lit up, and he imperceptibly leaned forward over the table. "No way. What kind of dance?"

"Um, just pole for now." Normally she'd leave it at that, but something in her wanted to give the full picture to Cassian. "I'm working on hiring more teachers and splitting it into contemporary and hip-hop-based classes, though."

"No ballet?"

She shook her head, distracting herself from his heavy gaze by taking a bite of salad. Ballet had been Nesta's first love, even more so than the ballroom dancing her grandmother had forced upon her, but she'd been bitter for a long time at how puberty and big boobs had taken away any chance she'd had to dance professionally. More than that, its ways were too rigid and painful, and Nesta would rather teach students how to let go rather than restrain themselves.

"That's crazy," he said, grinning. "I never imagined you doing anything than classical."

Right. He'd seen tapes of her old performances once a long time ago, though she was surprised he still remembered them.

"Nesta got the idea from dancing at that strip club a few years ago," Morrigan interjected with a wave of her fork.

Nesta's face flamed with heat at the misinformation, because even though there was nothing wrong with being a stripper, there were certain things you couldn't say to certain people without being judged for it. Like announcing that you wrote erotica in your free time, or that you were bisexual.

"It was just a regular club, and I was a go-go dancer," she corrected, as if that would lighten the blow. Rhysand made a noise that implied this was not much better than stripping.

"Holy shit, how much have I missed?" Cassian sat back in his chair in disbelief, not picking up on the light waves of discomfort that floated around the group whenever Nesta's past was brought up. Then again, he'd never found anything about her to be uncomfortable.

After Feyre and Rhysand had cut off all sources of her income, she’d been forced to find a real job. Dancing was the only thing she’d been good at doing, and she knew from the seedy bars she frequented that one of the nearby nightclubs was hiring. Thanks to her body and skills, she’d been able to indulge her alcohol problem off tips alone, at least until she’d made the decision to get her life together. That had been a year and a half ago.

But she couldn’t tell any of this to Cassian. She didn’t need to, either, because Amren answered his question for her. “Nesta's unrecognizable from when you last saw her, isn't she?" she drawled. "Don't worry; I promise her personality's still the same."

"Indeed," Rhysand grumbled, and a few others laughed.

Cassian still had that smile glued to his face, but it now looked frozen and false, as if he was no longer happy but didn’t know what to do about it.

But the conversation was out of his control now, due to the unfortunate fact that once attention landed on Nesta, it was usually difficult to make it go away. The next thing she knew, she was being bombarded with questions from all sides of the table.

"Were you late tonight because of that old Toyota again? I told you you could afford a new car if you took up my job offer."

"One of my friends took a class at your studio and said it wasn't too bad. You should give me a free membership so I can see for myself."

"What's your new address again?" This one from Feyre. "I need it for my Christmas cards."

Nesta blinked hard, head spinning at everyone's words being thrown at her, wondering how unacceptable it would be if she just—snapped. Wondering if maybe she could get herself uninvited from these things from good.

"I—" Mor started to lob another question.

“Let the woman fucking breathe, Jesus,” Cassian chuckled into his wine glass, cutting her off. But it was targeted at the whole room to hear, and the bitterness beneath it was clear.

The room went still. Awkwardness, sharp and cold as ice, swept over the dinner table until Nesta felt like her bones were frozen in place.

When no one responded, Cassian took a large gulp of wine and set the glass down with a dull thud. “I mean, if we want her to come around more often maybe we shouldn’t be giving her reasons to never visit,” he said, his voice too loud in the quiet room.

“We’re just catching up since we never get to see her,” Feyre said, sounding hurt and defensive at the same time.

Rhysand’s barely-audible growl implied he wanted to kill whoever had put that hurt in her tone—which in this case and most cases, was Nesta.

“That’s enough,” a delicate but firm voice beside Nesta said. She felt a soft hand rest on her arm, and looked up to find Elain’s sympathetic brown eyes watching her. But when Elain opened her mouth to speak again, all that came out was, “Eat more, will you? You’re so skinny it’ll make the rest of us look bad.”

Nesta had actually been gaining healthy weight lately, but for some unfathomable reason this was Elain’s attempt at diffusing the hostility in the room, so Nesta hummed a sound that technically counted as a response and busied herself with picking at her cut of roast beef.

Her lack of aggression seemed to satisfy the table, and one by one, people slowly went back to ignoring her and redirecting their focus to another topic of conversation.

Not even a minute later, Morrigan cackled far louder than required at something Azriel had said, causing Nesta's shoulders to inch up toward her ears. The hand that held her fork had fallen still, and Nesta’s other hand was fluttering subtly on the table, her index finger digging sharply into the thin skin around her thumbnail. The pain was a welcome balm to her agitated nerves.

She forced her hand to straighten out and lie still when she noticed Cassian's gaze on her. The action only sent her pent-up nerves straight to her spine, where she feared they would spontaneously combust and cause a meltdown in front of the whole table.

But then she met his eyes, and something in her heart choked, then settled.

She’d long forgotten the true hazel of his eyes. Hazel could be any color and every color, but looking at Cassian now, even from this distance in this weak lighting, her brain was starting to fill in the gaps of her memory. So many shades of brown and yellow speckled with blue-green colliding together, reminding her of undiscovered planets.

He was the first to pull his gaze away, but it was slow and required effort. Spell broken, Nesta’s own gaze dropped to her plate. At the very least, she no longer felt like ripping her fingernails off.

Nesta was left fairly alone for the rest of the meal, but the odd tension that had formed with Cassian and spread over the rest of the room didn’t dissipate. Even when everyone once again became lost to bantering and arguing with each other, Nesta felt the sense of awareness burning along every line of her body. She tried telling herself it was just in her head, but when she caught Amren sneaking a glance at her out of the corner of her eye, it was undeniable.

As more and more people finished their plates, they got up from the table to use the bathroom, talk on the phone, or wander into the adjacent drawing room to make use of its minibar. Among the noise, Nesta quietly excused herself and made a beeline for the emptiest part of the first floor of the house.

Alone in the kitchen, she finally allowed herself a deep intake of air. It felt like her first breath all night.

Shuffling toward the liquor cabinet, she pulled the first bottle of red wine she could find and grabbed herself a glass. Low footsteps behind her made her look over her shoulder before she could open the bottle.

It was just Cassian. Though the sight of him made her insides flutter, she didn't think he would judge her for drinking, so she turned back to her glass and uncorked the bottle.

"I needed some air," he spoke after a few moments of silence. Nesta nodded as she filled her glass perhaps a little too high. He took a few more steps toward the counter where she stood, and she belatedly realized that he was trying to engage in conversation with her.

Her brain scrambled for something to say, and just as she thought of asking him if he wanted some wine as well, Cassian was speaking again. "I'm sorry for everyone's behavior back there. It was super embarrassing."

Oh no, Nesta internally groaned. She'd almost rather put up with Feyre's lecturing and Amren's nitpicking than deal with an apology.

"They're not usually like this," he promised. "Someone must have spiked their drinks tonight."

Nesta didn't bother telling him that he was wrong. She didn't know how to react to such an unexpected statement. "There's nothing to apologize for," she said, sounding stilted and awkward. "I'm not really a sensitive person."

"Still," he said, looking up at her, "the vibes in this place are so weird tonight." He shuddered to himself. "Don't you feel weird?"

Was he referring to his friends, the sharp-edged way they spoke to her, or something else? "Maybe because it's your first time back in a long time." Nesta shrugged. "I'm used to it."

"Well, I'm not. In fact, I can think of a dozen other things I'd rather be doing right now than having dinner here."

Nesta glanced at him, her eyes widened in surprise. "Haven't you missed your friends, though? They're so excited to see you."

He shook his head. "This is honestly, like, our fifth meeting together since I got back. I see them all the time."

"Ah."

"What about you?" he pressed. "Do you want to stay or go?"

Nesta looked around the kitchen as if someone else might have walked in during their conversation and he was talking to them instead. "What do you mean?" she said.

He let out a small laugh. "Do you want to ditch this dinner?"

"But—wouldn't that be rude?"

He shrugged as if the consequences didn't matter much to him. "The door's right there." He gestured with his head toward the hallway leading to the foyer.

Nesta didn't know what overcame her. She chugged as much of her glass of wine as she could and set it down with a thump, looking at Cassian. Less than a minute later, they were speeding out the front door on quiet feet, stifling laughter and the jingle of car keys as they went.

***

"What about my car?" Nesta asked as Cassian started up his Ford truck, turning the heat up to full blast.

"We'll come back for it later tonight," he promised, shifting into drive and pulling away from the hulking mansion. "After everyone's gone, so you don't have to run into them."

"That'll take hours, though," she said, chewing the inside of her cheek. There was never such thing as a short dinner when Feyre's inner circle were gathered together.

"I've got hours to kill," he shrugged, then glanced over at her. "You can go home whenever you want, though. I can drop you off or take you back to your car."

Nesta took half a second to mourn her dream of cuddling in bed with her books all night, then got past it. This wasn't such a bad replacement for her former plans, anyhow.

"What should we do?" she asked, hesitant excitement bubbling in her stomach. Cassian opened his mouth to answer, but she cut him off. "Should we go to the movies? I wanted to see that new horror comedy—"

"I thought it wasn't out for another week."

"Oh." She sat back, trying to think of something else. "Is Nude still in theaters?"

Cassian chuckled. "Don't think so, Nes."

She ignored how the nickname made her feel. "What about Back to Black?"

"Director's a creep."

"The new Marvel movie?"

"Terrible reviews, and you hate mega-franchises."

True. "...Maybe we can just keep driving around?" she finally suggested.

Cassian surrendered with a cheery grin. "I love that idea." He glided into the right lane and made a turn that led them straight onto the highway. The truck hummed as it accelerated from 45 to 70.

In the dark lit only by the dashboard lights, Nesta kicked her heels off and stretched out in her seat, letting herself smile. She could hardly remember why she'd been struggling for air back at that dinner. This, driving at night with Cassian in silence, was one of the most relaxing feelings she'd ever experienced.

Even so, she was surprised to find she didn't mind it much when Cassian eventually interrupted the quiet.

“I really did miss you.” His words took her by surprise, and it must have showed in the look she threw him.

He chuckled lowly. “Is it that hard to believe?”

It was, actually, though Nesta didn’t tell him that. “I just don’t remember us being that close,” she said, shrugging. They’d rarely talked without Feyre or one of her friends in the room, and when they had talked alone, the conversations hadn’t been very deep. He’d tried to tease and challenge her in the beginning, as she was sure he did with every worthy person who came his way, but when Nesta was unresponsive to his efforts, he eventually dropped the asshole act.

“We weren’t,” Cassian agreed, “but sometimes your favorite people are the ones you see the least.”

That made Nesta’s breath hitch. He couldn’t mean it the way she thought he meant it. She couldn’t be his favorite.

"I had a huge crush on you when we first met, you know," he added.

Nesta’s shoulders deflated, in either relief or disappointment, she didn’t know. Of course; that was what he’d meant. She gave him a dry look in response. "Yeah, I sensed that."

He did a double-take from the road to her. "You did?"

It had been painfully obvious any time they were in the same room together, with the weight of Cassian's gaze feeling like hefting a barbell of anxiety and discomfort and embarrassment. She remembered how her skin would itch with how she blushed, how her throat would close up and her breathing would shallow out. It had felt like suffering from an allergic reaction.

Nesta didn't say any of that to Cassian now, though. "What made you stop liking me?" she asked instead, propping her elbow on the passenger-side window and leaning her head against her fist. She was genuinely curious to hear his answer. It had happened before she'd fallen too deep into her hole of depression and brought shame onto Feyre and the Archeron name, so it couldn't have been the fact that she'd been a hot mess. "Was I too rude? Too quiet? Too boring?" How had she let him down?

"What?" Cassian looked over at her like she'd gone insane. "No."

"Then what was it that made you stop liking me?" Because Cassian had stopped liking Nesta at a certain point. After a few awkward conversations and a failed attempt to spend time alone with her, Cassian had pulled away from Nesta as if he'd never known her in the first place. The heavy gazes lessened, then stopped altogether, and the conversation would rarely go past a friendly "hello" up until the day Cassian had left for the Peace Corps.

Cassian bit down on his lip, looking both amused and flustered by her scientific questioning. "I didn't stop liking you. I just stopped chasing you."

That information took Nesta by surprise. She was stunned, still figuring out what to say in response when Cassian continued, "I was too young and too stupid back then. I didn't know how to make decisions for myself, and I let other people convince me not to go after the things I wanted. I regretted it for a long time while I was away overseas, but eventually I just had to get over it, you know?"

Nesta blinked, staring out the windshield and saying nothing.

He'd wanted her. Even when she was drinking and fucking her way through every bar and club in the city, he'd wanted her, all the way up until the day he left—and even after that, if she was understanding him correctly.

"Anyway, what about you?" Cassian said, changing the topic. "You been seeing anyone lately?"

"Why? Are you asking for yourself?" She meant it to be taunting, but her natural deadpan tone made most things she said sound serious.

Cassian made a noise that sounded like a choked cough. "It was just a question."

She tried not to be disappointed at his response, even though it was no surprise that he was over her by now. Why would he be interested in reigniting something that had never sparked in the first place?

"No," she finally answered, her voice sounding small but not weak. "I haven't really been interested in meeting people lately, not even for casual hookups."

He threw a glance over at her, the surprise subtle but there. "Can I ask why?"

She shrugged, never having had to explain the answer to anyone else before. "I don’t like putting myself in situations where men want my body. I already feel like a blowup sex doll as it is, so it’s better to not date at all."

"Why would you feel like that?" Cassian said, the slightest hint of alarm and concern creeping into his tone. "Did somebody call you that?"

She shifted in her seat, feeling awkward at being put on the spot. "I don’t know, it’s just the way my body’s built. I’m always getting asked whether I do porn or have an OnlyFans. People always give me their unwanted opinions on my boobs or my hips or my butt."

"Who said that to you?" he demanded.

"I was a go-go dancer, remember?"

"That's not an answer." His voice was hard. "Or an excuse."

"I only told you because you asked why I don't date," she said sharply, suddenly cold. "I don't need your pity." And she was regretting opening up so much to him so soon.

Cassian opened his mouth to speak and she cut him off before he could decide to pity her anyway. "What would you do with the names of my harrassers, anyway? Find them and beat them up? Give them a real piece of your mind?" she mocked. "You can barely stand up to your own friends when they're being dickheads, tough guy."

Cassian made a choking sound, which soon devolved into wheezing, and when Nesta finally looked over at him she found that his shoulders were shaking with restrained laughter. Her brows scrunched up in confusion, her nerves getting whiplash from the sudden shift in mood.

"Holy shit, there she is," he barely got out between laughs of disbelief. "Where the hell was she all this time?"

"Who?" Her bafflement must have been written all over her face.

"The proud Nesta I first met so many years ago," he stated. "The one who'd rather choke to death on her own arrogance than give in to someone else."

Nesta felt like he'd just pointed to an obvious crumbling corpse that everyone else was trying hard to forget was in the room. That prideful Nesta was the opposite of the person she was trying to be these days, even though her ghost might have made an appearance when she'd been a little unnecessarily rude to Cassian just now.

She only shook her head, denying that old version of herself's right to exist. "I don't have the time or energy to be that person anymore. And I hate getting into fights. Losing all the time gets exhausting fast."

Instead of responding with something witty, Cassian drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel, his tongue poking into his cheek as he clearly thought something over. "The Nesta I knew never used to lose an argument," he finally said.

"A lot of things change once you lose all your financial and social capital," she murmured, almost too quiet for him to hear. It was the closest they'd gotten all night to touching upon that uncomfortable period of her life—Alcoholic Whore Gone Wild, as Amren had coined it. But she couldn't bear exposing that part of her past to Cassian, even though he'd already witnessed it with his own two eyes. She refused to say more, not wanting him to remember what a mess she'd been only a few years ago.

"Is it Rhys and the rest of the guys?" Cassian said, plowing right through the topic she was trying to avoid. "Did they outnumber you into changing so you'd fit into his PR campaigns or something?"

Cassian was scarily close to being on the nose of what had actually gone down, and it made Nesta flare her nostrils in defense. "I don't think we're close enough to be talking about things like this." She was back to being cold, even though it required more effort this time. "Change the subject."

"Fine," he said casually, though not even the dark could hide the subtle tightness of his jaw. "Let's go back to that sex-doll thing then. Did that start before or after I left?"

"Are you my therapist?" she felt the need to resist against him.

"Do you ever answer questions without another question?" he shot back. When Nesta still refused to budge, he released a sigh. "You just never seemed to me like someone who gave a shit about how others saw you. That was what made you Nesta. So yeah, sue me if I wanna know more about how your pretty little brain works."

Nesta swallowed his words like a rough pill, doing her best not to linger on the word "pretty". Now that he didn’t seem so uncomfortably shocked by her confession, she twisted toward him like she was telling a juicy story. Honestly, she felt a perverted excitement at getting to discuss parts of her life that she never got to speak about otherwise. "I used to not care that much about it," she started, "but one day while I was alone at home I saw my ass in skinny jeans in the mirror. I don’t know, it just flipped a switch in me. I felt so dirty. Like an object to be used instead of a person. And I realized that was how most people probably perceived me, too. It freaked me out so bad I just retreated from men and the dating pool altogether."

She felt dirty going out in certain clothes, and dirtier still when other people looked at her in those clothes. Even the dress she’d worn tonight, formfitting with the neckline cut out to accentuate her chest, had required her to avoid full-length mirrors while getting ready. She knew it wasn’t normal to feel the way she felt, but she also knew there wasn’t much to be done about it.

Cassian let out a low whistle. "That’s fucked."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"No." His answer was smooth. "But I think you'll get mad at everything else I want to say, so I'll leave it at that. It's really fucked you have to feel that way, Nesta."

Her swallow was tight, and she was more than a little surprised. Never in a million years could the Nesta of three years ago have imagined Cassian talking with her about things like this, and more than that, comforting her.

In truth, she had thought about Cassian too while he was gone. She wouldn’t say she’d missed him, because she didn’t know how to miss something she never had, but there’d been an empty longing on the rare occasions she thought of him. A bittersweet desire for what could have been, if only she’d been less of a mess and more of an easy person to be around.

She didn’t know how to tell him this, so she settled for, “For what it's worth, I really am happy that you're back.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cassian stifle a smile. He roughly cleared his throat and changed the subject. “You wanna go to Town Square and see the Christmas lights?”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay.”

Nesta tucked her feet beneath herself and got comfortable, and they continued driving in companionable silence. Twinkling holiday lights and towering decorations passed in a blur outside the windows, and at one point Cassian stopped at an In-N-Out to order fries and a milkshake. "You didn't eat much back at the house," was his only explanation as he handed the food over to Nesta.

She accepted the kindness without complaint, happily munching on fries and melting into her heated seat. Something about the warm truck made her forget time was moving, but the next time she pulled her gaze away from the windshield to check the clock, she saw it was already midnight.

Cassian seemed to take note of it at the same time she did. “Damn, I have an early morning tomorrow…” He trailed off, not stating the obvious—that their little getaway drive had to come to an end.

“Me too,” Nesta lied, so she didn’t sound stupid for wanting to stay like this, driving in silence.

She turned on her phone for the first time all night, finding no less than five missed calls and a handful of upset texts from her sisters. Holding back a grimace, she shut her phone off again. "Maybe you can drop me off at home instead of at Feyre’s."

"You sure?" Cassian looked over at her. "What about your car?"

She waved a hand. "I'll get it back later. I just want to be home right now."

Cassian didn’t hesitate before making a U-turn off the left lane. “You still live in Brentwood?” he asked casually.

Brentwood, with the roach-infested grimy one-bedroom she’d inhabited in the depths of her depression, back when it was all she could afford and all she could stomach to come home to after a long day of self-hatred.

Unlike most, Cassian had never judged her for it. He’d even shown up on her ratty doorstep one Christmas Eve to drop off gifts from her sisters, saying nothing but that he hoped she would be okay, and to have a merry Christmas. There was no direct mention of her obvious miserable state, but no tense avoidance of it, either. It had been the most ordinary interaction Nesta’d had that year: short, sweet, and simple.

Nesta blinked herself out of the sudden memory. Being reunited with Cassian was bringing back too many moments she’d forgotten had happened. She shook her head, even though he probably couldn’t see. “I moved to Goldridge.”

“Ooh, fancy,” he teased. He pulled out his phone and held it out to her. “Put your address into the GPS.”

Clicking on his phone, Nesta found notifications for several missed calls and texts on his screen as well. They were at least double the amount she had, but she didn’t let her eyes linger on the messages as she swiped up onto the home screen. Of course he didn’t have a password on his phone. He could be so dumb sometimes.

Typing her address into his Maps app, she turned the navigation on and set his phone down in the cupholder between them.

Cassian glanced over to it and squinted to read her address while he drove. "That's only twenty minutes away from where I live."

"Really?" Nesta perked up, intrigued. In the past, Cassian had always been an hour or so away, considering the heavy traffic between Velars and it's poorer outskirt cities. Now he was basically her neighbor. "But isn’t it far from your friends and family?”

She'd purposely chosen her current home for the distance it placed between her and said friends and family.

Cassian shrugged as he merged onto the highway. “Not too far, but not too close, either.”

The rest of the drive passed with light conversation between them. Addicted to how the low rumble of his voice paired with the darkness of the night roads made her feel fuzzy and sleepy, Nesta let Cassian ramble to her about his time in Tunisia while she leaned back in her seat, her eyes millimeters away from drooping shut.

Sometime later, Cassian pulled up to the curb of her brownstone townhouse and put the truck into park. He let out a low whistle as he inspected the tall windows and the quality brickwork, then looked back at Nesta, who was still blinking the sleep out of her eyes, with an embarrassed grin. “I’m a fool. I completely forgot to ask how you ended up with your dance studio.”

Nesta opened her mouth to tell him about her business, but Cassian shook his head fast. “Don’t tell me now. I want to hear the whole story, sometime when the night isn’t right about to end.”

Sometime other than now…? “What do you mean?” she voiced.

He met her gaze with serious intention, no amusement or nervousness to be found. “I’d like to see you again, Nesta Archeron.”

The words hung between them like the start of a promise.

Despite the sudden warmth flooding her insides, Nesta was hesitant with her answer. She still didn't completely trust Cassian—nor herself when she was around him. She didn't want to spiral into obsession over him just for him to break her heart. She still needed to test the rock face of this thing between them, checking for cracks and loose areas that could give way. “I’ll think about it," she finally said.

Cassian's lips slowly curled up into a clever smile, looking like he'd just won a prize. "Give me your keys." He held his broad hand out.

Nesta frowned. "What for?"

"I'll bring your car over in the morning. It'll be a quick drop-off."

"You really don't need to..." She trailed off as Cassian reached over and stuck his hand in her tiny purse, quickly finding and pulling out the shiny keys. He jingled them in her face. "Thanks for these," he said, as if she were the one doing him a favor.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then nodded. She'd given up on trying to keep pace with their conversations, especially not when he rendered her speechless so often. "I should get inside now," she said.

"Don't freeze on the way to the door," he said, even though it couldn't have been more than a ten second walk. Again, was he teasing or being genuine? Or somehow both at the same time?

"Get home safe," she responded, because that was the only phrase her encyclopedia for social etiquette held right now. She exited the car and reached inside again to grab her purse. She might have left it behind so she'd have an excuse to linger in the pinecone-scented warmth of his truck for a bit longer. Eventually, she had to force her head out of the front seat, away from Cassian's kind smile and gorgeous eyes. "Goodnight, Cassian." Nesta shut the door between them, eager to end their interaction quickly so she could go inside and spend the whole night thinking about him.

Even with the door shut and the windows too dark to make out Cassian's face, Nesta swore she could feel it in her bones when he murmured back, "Goodnight, Nesta."

***

a/n: the gifts were not from her sisters…but that’s a story for later (never)

tags:

@rarephloxes @moodymelanist @arinbelle @sayosdreams @bridgertononmymind @live-the-fangirl-life @a-court-of-valkyries @secretlovelybeauty @humanexile @helion-ism @my-fan-side @royaltykxx @xoblivisci @planet-faerie @katekatpattywack @imagine-me @meridainthedisneyland @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @rainbowcheetah512 @valkyriewarriors @loosingdreams @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @perseusannabeth @that-golden-lyre @swankii-art-teacher @laylaameer01 @awesomelena555 @claralady @ghostlyrose2 @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @cassianscool @wannawriteyouabook @everything-that-i-love @sv0430 @xstarlightsupremex @faeriebambula

[starstruckmoony]

paper rings.

masterlist

pairing - sirius black x reader

summary - you make paper rings for yourself and sirius in potions class.

trope/tags - lots of fluff

word count - 1.3k

warnings - language

potions were never really your cup of tea. you could never wrap your head around anything you'd learn about them at all. the recepies, the effects, why people even made some of them knowing how awful the consequences could be- in other words, you loathed the class.

to top it all off, you were slughorn's least favourite student, or at least that what was what you managed to convince yourself. you had a feeling that the man was out to get you. you were pretty certain that he could sense your negative energy whenever you stepped through the door. sirius always tried his best to reassure you, but you were certain that your professor would get a thrill whenever you would ruin a potion or accidentally curse in the middle of his class because it meant that he could give you detention.

the class started off quite alright that day. slughorn was in a rather good mood and he settled for only having you all read a passage from your books, which was very conveniently about the most powerful love potion itself - amortentia.

you and sirius finished with reading the writing you were given by your professor a bit sooner than the other students, which meant you were left with nothing to kill the remaining time. the bloody thirty five minutes of it.

since you couldn't actually speak to your boyfriend, because that would result in the both of you getting detention (and having sirius get in trouble just because he happened to have some involvement with you was the last thing you needed), you were forced to look for a new form of entertainment - which somehow happened to be making rings out of paper. sirius was not as successful as you, though, he tried to find something interesting about the dirty classroom ceiling and he looked like all life had been drained out of him. nobody could blame him. remus wasn't doing any better either, the taller boy was absolutely exhausted and he had fallen asleep only a few minutes after the lesson started.

"fuck." you whispered, mostly to yourself, when the tiny piece of parchment in your hand refused to bend in the direction you wanted it to. sirius noticed your sudden change in attitude and got intrigued by what you were up to.

"what's that?" he shifted in his seat, curiously looking over your arm to get a better look at your doings.

"paper rings." you whispered in response, a happy smile making its way to your face when you finally finished with the second one. he took one of the rings into his hands and observed it for a moment before sliding it onto his finger, showing it off to you with the biggest grin. it fit perfectly.

"i wonder who was on your mind when you made this." he smirked in satisfaction and inched a little closer to you. you laughed quietly, glancing over at slughorn who was too busy with other things to notice that you weren't exactly doing what you were supposed to.

"your little brother. such a nice bloke, isn't he?" you teased, sliding the other ring onto your own finger. he snorted at your sarcastic reply to his stupid remark, but immediately composed himself once he heard slughorn clear throat. the man glared in his direction, and sirius quickly put his head down and pretended like he was still the reading the text from his book.

because of that, you had to spend the next few minutes sitting in complete silence. the only thing that could be heard was ticking of the old clock on the wall. twenty five sodding minutes.

you couldn't wait to finally leave the godforsaken class and head to your next one. you weren't even sure which lesson you needed to attend after potions, yet all you wanted to do was to get the hell out of there, even if your next class was going to be something just as frustrating. you would rather have sat through five hours of divination than whatever that was.

sirius seemed to have decided that he wanted to put his good reputation at risk, yet again. being one of the best students in the year and coming from a family that was known as noble had its perks, but sirius had always told himself that it had more disadvantages than anything else. he was supposed to be a model student, and set an example to others. that irked him the most, as it was pretty challenging for a marauder, considering he got detention at least ten times that year and november had barely started. he thought about it for a while, but after he realised he was probably no longer in professor slughorn's good graces after receiving that glare anyway, he moved dangerously close to you. you felt his breath fanning over your ear, his lips were almost pressing against it.

"i think i might ask you to marry me with one of these in a few years." he broke the silence between the two of you, whispering those words only for you to hear. that simple sentence turned your face crimson red. you inhaled sharply in attempt to hold back the surprised giggle that was threatening to escape.

"you're mental." you guffawed, hiding your blushing face in your arms that were rested on the table. he smiled in satisfaction, that was the very reaction he wanted to get from you and he'd never felt so proud of himself. that shit-eating grin of his only left his face when you pressed your own lips against his ear.

"wanna know a secret? i'd say yes." you said the words with a smirk and knew all too well that they sent him into a frenzy. one could say he was malfunctioning. you bit your lip harshly, struggling to keep yourself together. sirius turned his head look at you, and neither of you could hold back your laughter for any longer after seeing each other's rose red faces.

"miss l/n! mister black!" slughorn looked at the two of you in shock. he did not miss the mess that you created on the table, or the rings that you and sirius had on your fingers either. his surprised reaction and the sheer terror you saw in him only made the giggles more difficult to stifle, so you accidentally laughed in his face.

"miss l/n!" the poor man could barely keep himself together, so he glanced over at sirius as if he was the last possible resort (which he was), searching for some form of explanation, "mister black, what's the meaning of this?"

"well, if you must know, we were just about to start planning our wedding." he cleared his throat as he spoke, trying to come off as formal as he possibly could. his serious facial expression and the blaringly obvious mocking tone of his voice made you snort, which sent the rest of the students into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. james was having a hard time breathing, and the whole commotion had woken poor remus up.

"very well. i will see you both after class. you are free to leave now." professor slughorn said blankly, walking back to his table and putting his glasses on as he returned to grading a pile of essays.

"yes, professor." sirius choked out, tugging at the sleeve of your jumper. you left the classroom snickering, and not without almost falling over because of your clumsy sprint.

"planning our wedding?" you questioned in amusement as you walked with him in the hallway, and he intertwined your fingers with his.

"yes, i'd like to think we just got engaged. " he pointed out what he thought was obvious, that smug smile never leaving his face.

"oh-" he kissed your cheek before you could put your thoughts into words, and you realised that getting in trouble this time may have indeed been worth it.

[drabblesdrabblesdrabbles]

i feel like the prophecy is so evan buckley coded

(read below for the rant)

and it was written

i got cursed like eve got bitten

oh, was it punishment?

can anyone actually tell me evan buckley doesn't go through all of this shit: the bombing, the tsunami, the embolism, the lightning strike, the therapist, the shooting and genuinely doesn't stay up at night thinking that he deserves this.

he deserves it for letting his brother die.

he deserves it for failing maddie and leaving her in an abusive marriage.

he deserves it for not being the son his parents wanted.

he deserves it for never being a good enough replacement.

he deserves it for turning suing the department.

he deserves it for not trying hard enough to find christopher.

he deserves it for not being enough for eddie when he went to his fight club.

he deserves it for not helping chimney more when maddie left.

he deserves it for not being there for hen when she had so much going on.

he deserves it for disappointing the only parental figure he has ever had again and again and again.

i guess a lesser woman would've lost hope

a greater woman wouldn't beg

he doesn't think he deserves the happiness he gets and constantly over thinks whether or not it'll last.

when will they give up on him?

when will they remember how awful he's been?

when will they realize they liked a different version of buck more?

when will they realize he's nothing more than a failure of a friend, a son, a lover, a brother, a person?

please, i've been on my knees

change the prophecy

there's no way he hasn't broken down to bobby or eddie or athena. maybe he did it by himself.

all those nights where he lays awake after nightmares wake him up screaming. the nights where he can still taste eddie's blood. the nights where he smells the ocean and confuses his sweat with saltwater. the nights where he lays there with pain shooting up his leg, desperately trying to feel like the sheets don't weigh 60,000 pounds.

there is no one on earth that can convince me buck hasn't begged the universe for an intervention at least once.

don't want money

just someone who wants my company

hello?????

how much did he turn down for the lawsuit again? (millions)

what did he choose instead of millions of dollars? (his family)

all he has ever wanted was a family. he had it briefly with his sister before she left with doug. he never had it with his parents. but he had it with bobby. he had it with chim and hen. later, he had it with eddie and chris.

he has never cared for anything as much as he cared for his family. for the 118.

he is nothing without them.

he doesn't remember how to function without being driven by his family.

let it once be me

who do i have to speak to

about if they can redo

the prophecy?

tell me he hasn't begged the universe time after time to let him redo everything.

he just wants to do something right. he wants to save someone. he wants to make a difference. he wants someone to love him the way he loves others. he wants to love someone who will stay. he wants to stop self sabotaging. he wants to find a way to love someone that won't strangle them. he wants to trust people without wondering when they'll lie. he wants to love and be loved without thorns. he wants to go a single fucking day without his heart feeling like it's going to fall out of his chest. he wants to be understood without words. he wants to go a single night without tears soaking his pillows. he wants to say i'm fine and mean it.

he wants. he wants. he wants.

[forgedroyalseal]

Song Fic Drabbles Part 2

Give you my wild, give you a child:

For as long as she could remember, Cassandra knew she’d be expected to marry and produce an heir. And for just as long, she resented it. She fought with her governesses every time they told her to sit like a lady, or to smile rather than speak. She’d shout at her father whenever he’d mention the handsome young son of some noble. She would run through the woods and welcome the muddy shoes and grass stains. She practiced with her sling every chance she got, regardless of the consequences. She held tight to her freedom, knowing that it had an execution date.

And then she met Horace.

It was not love at first sight. If nothing else is certain, that is. She was too young, too traumatized, too wild, to fall head over heels. And after everything that happened in Skandia, a part of her heart would always belong to Will, even if that part evolved from a girlhood crush to an everlasting friendship that held far more value. But slowly, her bond with Horace grew. She found herself seeking him out for comfort after an argument with her father or a particularly brutal nightmare. As he climbed up the ranks, a deep respect formed for him. She watched him mature from a careless boy to a sure and noble man. He was steadfast and patient, and he kept her balanced when her temper flared. He was a calm to her storm.

The next time her father mentioned the future that had been written out centuries before her brith, she didn’t immediately snarl and growl and fight. Because for the first time, she could imagine it. She could see herself on the throne. She could see herself at court, fitting in among all the other ladies. She could picture a handsome prince-consort beside her, holding her hand, lending his strength when she needed it. She could picture a child with wild blonde hair and rosy cheeks. But more vivid than anything, she could picture Horace at her side. In fact, the one think she couldn’t envision, was a future without him.

[chasingmidnights]

The T. Swift Project

Title: Bejeweled

Pairing: Jefferson x reader

Warnings: 18+ only, minors DNI! I believe the only thing to really look out for is some angst and Jefferson being a little bit an ass. Oh, also, like one curse word. I do believe that's everything, I apologize if I missed anything but you are responsible for what you read.

A little reflection never hurt anyone, so you looked back at it all but familiarity breeds contempt.

The beginning felt like such a fucking fairytale and you thought you'd found your prince charming.

Little did you know that you were wrong.

Your eyes used to shine like diamonds when you looked at him but now it's time to teach your own lessons, you've been a little too kind.

Overtime he became the madhatter, always obsessed with himself and his work. Never giving you the time of day or support.

You missed him sure, but you also missed being able to sparkle.

Did all of the extra credit then got graded on a curve. Went a little mad yourself along the way.

He better believe that when you walk into a room, you're still bejeweled.

You think about everything and you think you've been a little too kind, you let him walk all over you and somehow you didn't know.

Sadness became your whole sky when you were with him. You only wanted his heart but all he gave you was nothing.

At a party tonight, dancing with some random guy. He told you that your aura's moonstone, but only because he was high.

Jefferson better believe that when you walk into a room that you're still bejeweled and can still make the whole place shimmer.

He could try to change you mind but he might have to wait in line. You'd moved on.

You like being able to shine and making the whole place shimmer.

After all this time and what he put you through, he better believe that you were still bejeweled.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 268: Cardigan

Written for the nonnie who requested I write a song based on the feel of Cardigan by T. Swift.

Draco was so fucking pretty.

How could Harry be expected to think about anything else when Draco came swanning in, wearing the prettiest clothes, not a hair out of place, make up that was natural enough to make people wonder if he was wearing it or not. He was always devastated by Draco's beauty.

Draco was so fucking smart.

The Ministry officials that he used his charm on had absolutely no idea just how very bright Draco was. All they saw when they looked at him was someone young, dumb, and pretty who'd do anything to earn his place in the Political Sphere. They had no idea that the little tidbits that they gave him, as he batted his pretty eyelashes at them, were more than enough for him to absolutely destroy them.

And destroy them he did. He eviscerated them in his column of The Prophet that he wrote under a pen name. Harry could never quite figure out how they didn't connect the dots, but at the end of the day he was glad for the work that Draco did.

Draco was so fucking lovable.

It didn't matter that Draco had left him, that he'd cried and told Harry that it would never work. It didn't matter that he'd begged Harry to understand that it was all for Harry's own good. Or that he'd told Harry that he believed he'd never be worthy of Harry's love in return.

Harry loved him without reservation.

(Read more below the cut)

Harry loved him with his entire idiotic heart. He loved the way Draco used everything he had at his disposal to get what he wanted. He loved the moral compass that Draco had developed, loved the way he worked tirelessly to take down the people who were keeping their world from moving on. Harry loved how ruthless he was.

But as much as he loved those things, Harry loved him when it was just the two of them. Loved Draco when they had gone out drinking and dancing at muggle clubs. He'd loved how free he was walking down the streets in muggle London, head tilted back while he sang loud enough to wake the inhabitants in the flats above.

He'd loved him when they curled up in Harry's bed and Draco had whispered his dreams into the darkness around them. He'd loved him when Draco had curled into his arms and told him 'you're my favorite.'

'Favorite what?' he'd whispered back.

'Everything.'

Yes. Harry was well and truly gone on him. There was nothing that could make him stop loving Draco, even if he'd tried.

They were made for each other, of that Harry had no doubt.

Draco caught his eye across the Gala where he was talking to a witch who Harry knew was embezzling money from the charity she ran. The DMLE hadn't been able to prove it, but he hoped that Draco would.

Draco smiled at him then seemed to catch himself, purposely turning away from Harry and back to the woman in front of him.

Letting things like that go was always hard but Harry grabbed another glass of wine and tried to ignore the ache. Over and over, he reminded himself that he loved Draco. He didn't, couldn't, hate him.

By the end of the night, Draco hadn't come over to see him and Harry took that as a clue, that it was undoubtedly meant to be, that Draco had no interest in seeing him.

With that thought, Harry flooed home and slipped out of his dress robes and into a pair of comfortable old pajama bottoms and a hole-y tshirt. He went through his normal routine following a Ministry event, before pulling out the book he'd been trying to read when his mind wasn't too busy wandering to Draco.

The clock had struck midnight when there was a knock at Harry's door. Frowning, he drew his wand before making his way over to let in his late night guest.

He was by no means expecting Draco to be the one standing there, still wearing his lovely gala wear.

"Hi," he said. One word. That was all.

"Draco," Harry breathed in return, wondering if he could hear the way that Harry loved him. The word itself was infused with such warmth and tenderness that he felt mildly embarrassed.

Draco reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "Can I come in?"

He nodded and stepped aside to let Draco through.

And just like he'd never left, Draco took off his outer robe and sent it to the same peg on the wall that he always used before wandering toward the kitchen.

When he entered behind Draco, he leaned against the wall and watched him, waiting.

Draco took in the place-setting closest to the window; a cup of chamomile tea, a stack of six ginger biscuits, and a glass of water. Harry's routine following Ministry functions, setting out the things Draco liked best while he wrote notes about what he'd uncovered. The same thing he'd done for the past year, since he and Draco first became friends and tentatively more.

"You remembered," he whispered, staring blankly at the table like he couldn't comprehend it.

He blew out a breath, "I remember everything about you."

"Not everything, surely," Draco said, turning with a little, secret smile at the corner of his mouth.

Harry pushed up off the wall and closed the distance between them until he was less than half a foot away. "Try me."

"I've been away for four months," he said, right hand rubbing over his left shoulder. "I left you. You told me I was breaking your heart," he said, looking up at Harry. "How could you possibly have wanted to remember everything?"

He closed the gap between them, resting his hands on Draco's waist and drawing him closer, "Because I love you," he murmured, kissing Draco softly.

A soft whimper brushed over Harry's lips and Draco kissed him back, his fingers clenching in Harry's tshirt.

"And," Harry continued, pressing kisses to every inch of skin that he could reach, "I always knew that you would come back."

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

read more of my drabbles

[imaginingfrancium]

can't stop thinking about how lucifer's pov went from "i reach for you, but you were gone", relating to his grief on lilith's death... to "my hand was the one you reached for" , which is from the fact his life was changed by MC completely after meeting them.

[oikasugayama]

fic readers I have an announcement:

I just figured out how it ends

[thedarkknightxd]

”You are the best thing that’s ever been mine”

Chad’s hands lay flat against Tara’s stomach, holding her to him. He sat on their couch with Tara slumped over him, her head nestled in the crook of his neck. Chad knew he had all of ten minutes before Sam would show up at their apartment and he would have to put at least two feet between him and Tara. He loved Sam very much but Tara meant so much more to him. He couldn’t help but be upset with Sam sometimes because of how much she would pull Tara away from him. He understood why she was so protective of Tara, as he was too. He wasn’t overbearing though. That’s what set him and Sam apart.

..

Tara leaned into Chad’s touch, pressing her back against him. As his hands lay across her stomach, Tara felt a pang of guilt. The two of them had been together for three years now. She knew that Chad wanted children of his own. And so did she. But Ethan Landry’s sharp blade had taken away that future the moment he sunk it into her abdomen. She was told the damage was too extensive to those organs. Even Sam didn’t know about her infertility but Tara knew she would have to tell Chad. Not now though. Not as one of his hands dragged up her arm and tangled itself through her hair. Later. She would tell him later.

[fernandoswarcrimes]

If you want to be tagged in the song fics click here -> 🎤

Midnights (3AM Edition)

Sleepless nights comes with heartbreak, love, revenge and self discovery. Will you take the plunge?

Status: ongoing

Evermore

Coming soon…

Folklore

Coming soon…

Lover

Coming soon…

Reputation

Coming soon…

1989

Coming soon…

RED TV

Coming soon…

Speak Now TV

Coming soon…

Fearless TV

Coming soon…

Debut (Taylor Swift)

Coming soon…

© 2023 all rights to original content reserved - fernandoswarcrimes Do not modify, plagiarize, or claim my work as your own.

[just-before-dawn]

making bomba just macavity henchcat in cats 2019 was a terible idea

strongly agree | agree | neutral | disagree | strongly disagree

youre right. listen, i could say a lot about 2019 cats but i dont bc i respect my mutuals who do like the movie dkekfkdmfm

but mmm yeah. like she used to be, but now shes not anymore. and her lyrics in the macavity song is like in the "in between" stage of "yeah that guys hot" or "this dude fucking sucks" (this is my take tho please cats elitists dont come after me)

i think of bombalurina more of someone she regretted being with. like her feelings now towards macavity are feelings of despise rather than a past lover. like she hates the guy now and she's extremely overprotective towards everyone whenever macavity is mentioned (especially demeter). she also keeps giving demeter the reality checks of "yeah this dude is an asshole."

but opinions opinions :)

[iichaeyj]

anyone else ever get the urge to write an angsty fic that will leave you crying

[mellowwangxianenthusiast]

IwaOi Marys Song Prompt

Toru was still in disbelief, really he was waiting for someone to pinch him. To wake him up from what was obviously a dream, one that he never wanted to wake up from.

He was an Iwaizumi now. After dating since the last year of school, engaged after he won the Olympics.

And another year of wedding planning, the colors were turquoise and green, the wedding was outdoors, all their friends and family were there. The honeymoon was in Switzerland.

And now they were home, /their/ home. The down payment had been a gift from Toru's parents, Hajime's

Had gifted them the honeymoon. He was looking around their living room when he felt arms wrap around his waist, a weight resting on his shoulder. "Hi baby...I know we just got back and barely unpacked our suitcases, but I have a surprise for you" "Another one?!"

Hajime chuckled, nodding before he pressed a kiss to Torus neck, laughing more when Toru squirms in his arms and he tightens his hold on me. "Yes another one, but I really want you to have this. Come with me?" Toru nodded and followed his husband to their room with a smile. "Sit on the bed, close your eyes, and hold out your hands" Toru gave his husband (really he couldn't get over that) a suspicious look before doing as he was instructed. He heard paper rustling and then felt a heavy weight on his hands. "Okay open"

There was a nervous hint to Hajime's voice and Toru gave him a reassuring look before looking down and his eyes widened. In his hands was a scrap book with a Polaroid of them on their first official date on the front titled, "Our Story."

He opened it to find photos he hadn't seen in years, photos of him and Hajime the first year they met. They were toddlers running around the yard The next page was the first birthday party of Hajimes that Toru went to. Two pages down was them as children, running around the yard

With their paper pirate hats and wooden swords. A picture of them in the tree fort Hajime's dad built for them. One of them playing volleyball together. Once he got to the volleyball photos, he recognized them. Until he got to high school. There were photos he didn't recognize but he quickly realized they were ones Hajime had taken of him without him even noticing. Below each one was the date and little notes like "You looked beautiful today under the falling leaves" and-

"The way you scrunch your nose when you're concentrating on math." "I love how focused you get when you dedicate yourself to something" Notes that made his heart pound out of his chest, butterflies filling his stomach. When it got to the years they were separated, the hardest years of their new relationship, it was photos of their text messages, of when they facetimed, and when Hajime was able to visit him or when Toru was able to fly to California. When he reached their wedding photos, he was confused because there were still pages and pages left blank. "Hajime where are the others?" "Our story isn't over yet my love, we still have so many more to add /together/."

That was the final straw, Toru burst into tears, and Hajime reacted quickly, moving the book off his lap and he pulled him into his arms, letting his husband cry. "I love you so much Toru and I am the luckiest man in the world. I've been the happiest since you entered my life."

"I loved you then, I love you now, ill love you forever." Toru looked up at him with watery eyes and he couldn't help but let out a happy laugh, a bright smile on his lips. "I love you more Haji" He got an eye roll and a kiss in response. "Yeah, well I'm prepared to argue that"

[forgedroyalseal]

Song Fic Drabbles Part 4

When all you wanted was to be wanted

Will had always known he wasn’t enough. He wasn’t smart enough to be a diplomat or disciplined enough to be a scribe. And despite it being his one goal in life, the thing that kept him going through the cold, lonely years in the ward, he wasn’t tall or strong enough for battleschool. Will remembered the way his heart sank on his choosing day. How he was forced to stand in front of his peers, the Baron, the craft masters, and be told he wasn’t good enough. That he wasn’t wanted. That he was destined to a pitiful and meaningless life. But then, like a miracle from the heavens, Halt found him. He told him he could be enough, that he was wanted. So Will worked and trained harder then he thought possible, determined to prove to Halt he was enough, that he deserved to be wanted. And it worked. He was able to overcome every test and trial thrown his way. He made a name for himself. He had the potential to go down in history. He was enough. He was wanted.

Until he wasn’t.

“How could you be so stupid? So selfish? Do you have any idea what a disaster you’ve made Will?”

Will didn’t know how Halt still had the energy or the voice to continue yelling at him. He and Crowley had been at it for over an hour and were showing no signs of stopping.

“I know, I’m sorry. If you’d just let me explain-“ Will repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, and just like every time before, he was shot down.

Crowley huffed out a mocking laugh. “We don’t want your apologies or excuses Will! We want you to-“

“Leave.” Halt was no longer shouting and Will would have done anything to go back to being yelled at. Because that single, cold, level word cut Will deeper than any amount of yelling could do.

“What?” He whispered.

“We want you to leave. Now.”

“But, Halt please-“

“Get out of here Will. Crowley and I need to clean up your mess. As of now, you are on suspension. Once we get this sorted, we’ll figure out what to do with you.”

Will nodded slowly, blinking back the stinging behind his eyes. Just as he had one foot out of the door, Crowley called out to him. For a moment, his hope flickered. But then it was blown out just as quickly.

“Will, we’ll need to hang on to your oak leaf for the time being.”

When Will dropped the chain and pendent into Crowley’s open palm, he felt as though he was leaving his entire heart behind.

On shaking legs he made his way back to the guest room he was staying in. He tried not to cry. He did anyways. He fell to his knees and sobbed, body curling into itself. His chest burned and his head ached and he felt as if he was coming apart at the seams. Everything he had done, had worked for, was going to be torn away from him because of one stupid, selfish mistake. He hadn’t done enough and soon everyone would know and no one would want him. Will groped around his neck for his pendent, the one thing that could ground him in moments like these, but then he remembered that it was gone, discarded on Crowley’s desk as if it wasn’t the one thing, the only thing, that proved Will had been wanted. That someone had decided he was good enough. As he spiraled, his nails dug into his arms, clawing at his biceps until hot pools of blood bubbled up. A sob got caught in his throat and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. The knot in his chest was being pulled tighter and tighter and-

“Will! Will it’s ok, please just breathe.” A faceless voice called out but Will couldn’t make sense of the words.

Warm hands fell on his, gently guiding them away from his torn skin and onto a steady beating heart. “Breathe Will, just like me. Follow my breath.” Will tried, and after every failed attempt, the voice reassured him then asked him again. “Just keep trying Will. It’s going to be ok. Just keep trying.”

Will wanted to scream that all he ever did was try, but he didn’t have the air or the strength so instead he just let out a pathetic whimper. “I know it’s hard, I’m sorry. You’re doing so good.”

Eventually, slowly, oxygen found its way back into Will’s lungs. Will inhaled greedily, desperately trying to fill his burning lungs.

“There you go, deep breaths, it’s ok. You’re ok.” The oxygen made its way up to his head and he was finally able to place the comforting voice and steady hands.

“Gil.” He gasped.

“I’m right here Will.” One of his hands came around to Will’s back and began rubbing circles between his shoulders. “What happened? Tell me who I need to go beat up?”

“They don’t want me. It’s all gonna go away.” Will cried as he buried his face into Gilan’s chest.

“Who? What’s going away?”

“The Corps. What am I if not a ranger? I can’t do anything else. No one will want me.”

“Ok, I don’t know what happened, but I promise you, the Corps want you. They need you.”

“Not after this.”

Gilan pulled back just enough to look Will in the eye. “Tell what happened.”

[chasingmidnights]

The T. Swift Project

Song: Wildest Dreams

Pairing: Andy Barber x reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI! I think just some angst is all you need to look out for in this one. I apologize if I missed anything but you are responsible for what you read.

Small tapping sounds came from your bedroom window and you couldn't help but be curious.

When you looked out the window, you immediately smiled at the man below who was throwing pebbles at your window, Andy Barber.

Butterflies formed in your stomach as he smiled back at you. "What are you doing here?!"

You tried to keep your voice low, not wanting to alert your father or his men.

You watched in awe as Andy climbed the trellis. "Let's get out of this town, drive out of the city and away from the crowds." He said and his eyes twinkled like the stars.

The smile from a moment ago returned as you thought, 'Heaven can't help me now. He's so tall and handsome as hell.'

Andy helped you out of the window and the two of you bolted to his truck. He drove you out to the countryside in the next town over and pulled off into a private, secluded area.

It was perfect and you didn't want this moment to end. You let out a sigh of content as you sat on the bed of his truck, you were in a spot which overlooked a lake.

You lean into him as he wraps an arm around you waist and he presses his lips to your temple.

"Can you promise me something Andy?" You spoke up after awhile.

"Anything." Andy gave your waist a gentle squeeze.

"When we've had our very last kiss, say you'll remember me. Remember me standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset. Having red lips and rosy cheeks, say you'll see me again. Even if it's just in your wildest dreams."

"Sweetheart, I could never forget you. All of these memories we've made together, they're gonna follow me around." Andy then turned you to face him and his lips crashed into yours for a passionate kiss.

Nothing lasts forever though.