Requested by: @foolishmeg
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After our FaceTime call, I couldn't help but laugh every time I thought about Taylor's little hoodie heist. Sure, it was cute, but I couldn't let her win this one. Oh no, payback was going to be sweet—and swift.
She thought she was so clever, hoarding all my favorite hoodies over in London, but what she didn't realize was that I had a plan. A brilliant, foolproof, masterclass in revenge.
The next day, I hopped on a flight to London. Unbeknownst to Taylor, I had a couple of days free before training camp officially started, and I wasn't going to waste them. I landed, checked into a hotel not too far from hers, and immediately got to work.
This heist had to be perfect. Flawless. The kind of prank that would not only get her back for stealing my hoodies but would also leave her wondering how the hell I pulled it off.
I'd managed to charm my way past hotel security with my best "boyfriend of the year" smile, claiming that I was surprising Taylor. It was almost too easy. Once I got her room number, I made sure I had everything planned out. I even waited until her show that night was over, giving her enough time to fall asleep after her adrenaline crash.
When I finally got the all-clear—thanks to a well-timed text from one of her dancers, who I may or may not have bribed with backstage passes—I snuck up to her floor and slid my keycard into her room.
The moment I stepped inside, I saw her: curled up in the middle of the massive bed, snuggled up in one of my stolen hoodies, fast asleep. A devilish grin spread across my face. Perfect.
I tiptoed around the room, quietly unzipping her suitcase. Inside, I found everything I was looking for—her stage outfits, makeup, toiletries, chargers, and even her favorite perfume. I grabbed it all. The whole damn suitcase. I even swiped her phone from the bedside table without waking her up.
For good measure, I snatched the hoodie she wasn't wearing from the back of a chair. Petty? Maybe. Satisfying? Absolutely.
I packed everything into her own suitcase—yes, including the suitcase itself—and, as a final touch, I swapped out her phone with a note: *"Payback's a bitch. Love, Trav."* Then, I snuck out of the room as quietly as I had come in and made my way back to my own hotel, suitcase and all.
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The next morning was when the fun really began.
I was enjoying breakfast in my room, casually flipping through my phone, waiting for the inevitable chaos. Sure enough, around 8 a.m., my phone buzzed with a string of texts from one of her dancers, telling me Taylor had just woken up and realized everything was missing.
*Kam*: "Bro, she's losing it. Thinks she's been robbed."
I snorted into my coffee. This was going even better than I thought.
Back in Taylor's hotel room, she woke up with a groggy yawn, stretching her arms before realizing something was off. She blinked a few times, still half-asleep, and reached for her phone on the nightstand—only it wasn't there.
Frowning, she rolled out of bed, her feet hitting the cold floor, and glanced around the room. That's when she noticed it. Her suitcase was gone. Completely gone.
Her eyes widened as she frantically looked around the room. No clothes, no phone, no toiletries. Just... nothing. The panic started to set in.
"Oh my God," she muttered, heart racing. "Oh my God, someone broke in!"
She paced the room in a frenzy, trying to figure out what to do. Her phone—wait, where was her phone? She darted back to the nightstand and finally saw the note I'd left. Her hands were shaking as she picked it up and read the words:
