I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

The Common English Language Doesn't Have Enough Curse Words

Call of Duty has been one of your favourite games in the history of games. It's the perfect mix of competition and stress-relief--except when you're getting destroyed. Which is happening right now.

"Fuck!" you yell as you dodge around a corner in vain, getting sniped immediately.

Your grip tightens around the controller as you hear your teammates scream that you're only dragging the squad down.

"Shut the fuck up!" you exclaim into your mic as the kill feed flashes across the screen again.

Another respawn, another instant death.

You've thrown out every single fucking cuss you can think of, but it's not enough.

"Goddamnit!" you shout, your patience snapping like a brittle twig. You can feel the tension in your shoulders building. You've already cycled through every English curse word you know, but the frustration is still bubbling up, demanding more.

"The common English language doesn't have enough curse words!" You slam the controller on your lap. "Bobo!" you yell at the screen. "Tanga!"

Your voice is growing louder, the mix of rage and humiliation making you lose control. "Hampas-lupa! Pasalamat ang sarili mong tatay hindi ka minahal!"

Just as you scream the last insult, you hear the unmistakable creak of the door opening behind you.

"B-baby?" Taylor's voice is soft but undeniably concerned, her wide eyes focused on you like she's stumbled upon a crime scene.

You look back at her as the match finally ends, your squad obviously lost, but that's the least of your concerns right now.

Your girlfriend of two months is standing in the doorway with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate in your hoodie.

You slide your headphones down to your neck while your teammates groan in frustration.

"Um . . . Is--is everything okay?" she asks softly, her hands trembling slightly.

Your eyes soften, and you set your headphones and controller on the coffee table before standing up to face her.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you say, trying to sound more composed than you feel. "Just a bit of frustration. I'm really sorry if I scared you."

Taylor's eyes still dart between you and the screen, a mix of worry and curiosity dancing across her features. "I-I didn't know you spoke . . . Um, what was that you were saying?"

You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck. "Oh, that was just me letting off steam. It’s Tagalog. My family speaks it."

Her eyebrows raise in surprise. "Tagalog? I had no idea you knew another language."

"Yeah," you admit, glancing back at the screen. "It's my first language."

Taylor's expression shifts from concern to a kind of fascinated awe. She steps further into the room, placing the mugs of hot chocolate on the table next to the console. "Well, I don't really understand what you were saying, but . . . it sounded intense. And kind of impressive."

You smile at her, feeling a rush of relief at her calm reaction. "Thanks. I promise I’ll try to keep it together next time. Hot chocolate?" You gesture toward the mugs, hoping to change the mood.

Taylor nods, her smile returning. "Yeah, that sounds perfect. Maybe we can find a less stressful game to play together. And . . . Can you teach me some?"

You tilt your head slightly. "Teach you what?"

She leads you to the couch with a giddy little smile. "Some Tagalog. I mean, I learnt some when I performed in the Philippines, but I-I kinda forgot."

You chuckle and smile, taking one of the mugs and taking a sip, the sweetness and warmth cooling your throat.

"Okay," you say as you set the mug down again. "What do you want to learn?"

Taylor grins at you, clearly enthused. "Well, I remember some simple phrases, like, 'I love you' is, 'Mahal kita'. But I want to learn some of the . . . colourful phrases you yelled earlier."

You laugh softly. "Okay, well, 'bobo' and 'tanga' mean pretty much the same thing--'stupid.'"

Taylor nods along. "Okay, and--and what about, um, 'hampas-lupa'?" she asks, butchering the pronunciation hilariously.

You quickly correct her and say, "'Hampas-lupa' means something like, 'dirtbag', or, 'dirt-eater', and that last phrase is, 'thank your father he didn't love you'."

Taylor bursts out laughing, and only when she's in tears and clutching her stomach does she ask, "And you told your teammates that?"

You shrug sheepishly, nodding. "I'll have to remember to keep my cool next time."