I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

If I Could Never Give You Peace

"Are you sure you want to do this?" you ask Taylor softly, coming up behind her as she stared at herself in the mirror. She's holding your two-month-old daughter, Izzy, who's bundled in blankets and cooing up at her mother.

Taylor sighs. "My parents are busy, the babysitters are busy, all my friends are busy ... if we want to go to this event, we're gonna have to bring her."

You know how much Taylor hates having to say that. She's been cautious of bringing your daughter out in public. Even when she was pregnant with Izzy, she hated going out, hated the idea of the public seeing her "like that", in her words.

But tonight, you two are supposed to head to an event that's really important to both of you, and everyone who can possibly take Izzy for the night is busy. So you have two choices--bring your daughter with you and risk the paparazzi and flashing lights scaring her, or not go at all.

You decided to go with the former, since your OB-GYN had assured that, with the right eye and ear protection, Izzy would be alright.

So she's wearing earmuffs, and Taylor could pull the blankets over her eyes when you come across any cameras.

Taylor bounces Izzy gently in her arms and turns to you. "Ready?"

You smile softly and step closer, cupping her cheek. "You ready?"

Taylor leans into your touch for a brief moment, her eyes flicking down to Izzy, who gurgles contentedly in her arms. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she murmurs.

You press a kiss to her temple before stepping back. “Then let’s do this.”

The drive to the event is surprisingly calm. Izzy falls asleep halfway there, her tiny face hidden beneath the soft folds of her blanket. You and Taylor exchange small smiles, her hand reaching out to squeeze yours.

But as the car pulls up to the venue, you’re met with an overwhelming sight: a swarm of paparazzi crowded around the entrance, their cameras flashing incessantly. The sight alone makes your chest tighten.

“Stay close to me,” you whisper, your voice firm but reassuring as you place a protective hand on Taylor’s back.

Taylor adjusts Izzy in her arms, pulling the blanket snug over her face. “I’ve got her,” she says, but you can hear the slight tremor in her voice.

The moment the car door opens, the noise hits you like a tidal wave—shouts from photographers, fans calling Taylor’s name, the endless clicking of cameras. Taylor takes a deep breath, clutching Izzy tightly, and steps out first. You follow immediately, shielding them as best you can.

“Taylor! Over here!”

“How does it feel being a mom, Taylor?”

“Who’s the baby with you?”

The questions come rapid-fire, the voices blending into an unintelligible cacophony. You glance at Taylor, noticing the strain in her expression. Izzy stirs beneath the blanket, her tiny hand curling against her mother’s chest.

Then, one particularly loud shout causes Izzy to let out a sharp cry. The sound cuts through everything, freezing both you and Taylor in place. Her face pales as she looks down at your daughter, her free hand trembling as it tries to soothe her.

“It’s okay, baby,” Taylor murmurs, her voice shaking. “It’s okay, Mommy’s here.”

You step in immediately, wrapping an arm around Taylor and guiding her forward. “Let’s keep moving,” you say firmly, your eyes scanning for security. “We’re almost inside.”

Izzy’s cries grow louder, and Taylor’s steps falter. “She’s scared,” Taylor whispers, her voice cracking.

You stop abruptly, turning to block the crowd from Taylor and Izzy. “That’s enough!” you shout at the paparazzi, your protective instincts flaring. “Back off, all of you!”

The firmness in your voice startles even you, but it works. The photographers pull back slightly, giving you just enough space to move.

Taylor looks at you with a mix of gratitude and desperation. “We can’t--” she starts, but you cut her off gently.

“We’re going inside,” you say firmly, guiding her again. “She’ll be okay once we’re away from all this.”

With the help of security, you finally make it through the doors. The noise fades into the background as the event staff ushers you into a quiet, private room. Taylor sinks onto a nearby couch, her hands trembling as she cradles Izzy close.

“She’s okay,” you say softly, kneeling in front of her. Izzy’s cries have quieted now, reduced to soft whimpers as Taylor rocks her gently.

“I shouldn’t have brought her,” Taylor says, her voice breaking. Tears shine in her eyes as she looks down at your daughter. “I should’ve known this would happen.”

You reach out, taking her hand in yours. “You did what you thought was best. And she’s okay, Taylor. She’s safe.”

Taylor nods, but the guilt lingers in her expression. You sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her hair. Izzy finally settles, her small body relaxing against Taylor’s chest.

“I’ll handle things next time,” you promise, holding them both close. “You just focus on her.”

Taylor exhales shakily, leaning into you. “Thank you,” she whispers.