Trigger warning: brief mentions of stalking
Smut ahead.
Taylor is always beautiful, doesn't matter if she's wearing what she had been earlier or a full length couture gown...to him, she's consistently the most exquisite woman in any room, hands down. Once he laid eyes on her, that was it. There was no one else for him and there never would be.
Turning around on the patio, seeing her standing in front of him, he immediately loses all faculties of speech. Perfection exists and it's right there.
Her dress was picked out by her and her alone, no stylists to suggest what might suit her. When they have their second ceremony, she's mentioned she'll likely ask Stella to design her gown, but this one, she saw in a shop right after they had decided to elope and bought the sample and by some miracle, she had told him, no real alterations had been needed.
She's a goddess and he gapes, mouth slightly ajar; he can't help it. It's an ivory gown with lace detailing, capped sleeves and a cathedral train, simple, by most standards, but it fits like a glove, flaring out at her hips, ivory lace ballet flats on her feet. Her hair is down and hangs in loose waves that frame her face, held back by a pearl comb, make-up at a minimum. She doesn't need it...her cheeks are alight with a natural rosy glow. She's luminous and as she slowly walks toward him, an almost shy smile playing at her lips, his heart dances wildly.
"You look incredible," Taylor is quick to tell him, tipping her chin towards him. "I know I said I was superstitious, but I needed to see you. And we don't really need good luck, do we?"
He stays silent for a moment, drinking her in and she laughs musically, shaking her head. "We're doing this."
"We're doing it, baby."
Her proximity is enough to break the spell and he reaches for her, his index finger coming up to curve around her chin. "You're perfect. God, you look like an angel. I can't even---"
He knows he's already blowing it, stumbling over his words, even before the actual vows; she shakes her head, folding his hands in her smaller ones.
In the depths of her eyes, all he can see is love and some of his anxiety ebbs. Since she's come into his life, her ability to embrace the quieter things, her peace has become his and she can sense when he's nervous or unsure, detect even the tiniest hint underneath the bravado.
"I wanted to see you. Just for a few minutes...so it'll be just us. Then we can call our families. For now..."
Travis understands exactly what she means and he smiles as his thumb skates softly over her knuckles.
"I love you so much."
She's in his arms and he's careful not to wrinkle her dress or mess up her hair, but he has to hold her, wants to feel her heartbeat pressed against his own. His lips brush over her hairline, palm open against her skin.
This is right. Just the two of them and the knowledge washes over again, that they're doing this their way, that this is exactly how it should be.
"I wanted to give you your present," Taylor pulls away to look up at him. "I know you've heard most of the album by now, but not this. I wrote it last night. One minute."
Before he can blink, she's stepped into the house and back out again, guitar in hand.
It shouldn't have surprised him. There's so many ways she expresses her love...cooking, some thoughtful gesture specific to the person, a handwritten card or note, sewing or knitting.
And through her music. Weaving lyrics and melodies into a love letter so deftly, he was always in awe over how effortless it seemed. Effortless if you didn't know her because he understood that every ounce of her went into a song, that it came from the deepest pieces of her soul. Sometimes it ripped her apart. Sometimes, it hurt in places she hadn't expected. And sometimes, it was just for him.
