Tayvis One-Shots

london

Travis's POV

The apartment felt peaceful, the usual rush of the world outside drowned out by the soft hum of the fridge and the occasional flicker of the TV screen in the background. The day had been a long one for both of us, filled with rehearsals and meetings. But now, everything had quieted down. We were in London, and Taylor had just finished her fourth, fifth and sixth shows at Wembley the day before.

Taylor was curled up on the couch, her body wrapped in an oversized sweatshirt, her bare legs tucked underneath a soft, thick blanket. The room smelled faintly of lavender from the candles she had lit, the soft light casting a warm glow on the walls. 

I was sitting next to her, my back leaning against the armrest, a can of soda in hand. We hadn't spoken much since we'd gotten home, the kind of silence that wasn't awkward, just... natural. There was a certain ease between us now, a familiarity we'd both grown into overtime.

I looked over at her—her hair was messy, falling loosely around her shoulders, the kind of messy that looked effortlessly beautiful. She had her eyes closed, breathing softly. I couldn't help but admire how peaceful she looked. 

I reached for the remote and muted the TV, the quiet filling the space even more. Her voice broke the stillness, soft and contemplative. "Do you ever wish we could just stop? Just, like... disappear for a while?"

I thought about it for a second. I didn't have to ask her what she meant. I knew. We were both constantly on the move, always in front of cameras, always surrounded by people who wanted something from us.

"Yeah," I replied after a beat, my voice lower than usual. "I think about that all the time."

She opened her eyes then, turning her head toward me. There was something vulnerable in her gaze, something that made my heart tighten. It wasn't the usual Taylor I saw on stage, the one who commanded attention. This was a side of her that only I got to see—the one that was just... human.

"You know," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I love this. I love the music, the people I get to meet, but sometimes I just want a break. To not be Taylor Swift for a little while."

I nodded, not really sure how to put the words together. I felt it too. I knew what she meant.

"I get it," I said quietly. "Sometimes, all I want is to just... be with you. No distractions, no demands, no disrespectful paps chasing us around. Just us." Her lips curled into a small smile, and she turned her head back to the TV. But her hand moved then, resting gently on mine. 

The more we stayed there, the more the tension between us seemed to build, but it was the kind of tension that didn't feel forced—it felt natural. Like the weight of everything around us had slowly melted away until there was nothing left but this moment, just the two of us.

I could feel Taylor's breath warm against my skin as she leaned in closer, her cheek brushing against my shoulder. Her hand, which had been resting on mine, slowly moved up to my chest, her fingertips tracing the outline of my shirt in slow, deliberate movements. Her touch was soft, but there was a fire beneath it—a desire that hadn't been there when we'd first settled in.

I glanced down at her, my heart beating faster as her lips parted slightly, and she shifted her body just enough so her face was level with mine. The room felt charged, and it wasn't just the lingering glow from the TV or the candlelight that made everything feel so intimate. It was her—how her presence seemed to fill the entire space with warmth and something deeper, something more.

"Travis..." she whispered my name, and the way she said it made everything inside me twist. It was a sound that was equal parts sweet and full of longing, and I didn't need anything else to understand what she wanted.