TAYVIS ONE SHOTS

Titanic

Taylor's POV

The rain pattered softly against the bedroom window, an almost rhythmic counterpoint to the low hum of the TV waiting on the Titanic menu screen. I pulled the fluffy blanket higher over my lap, the weight of it grounding me on this quiet night. The world outside—concerts, interviews, football games, and stadiums full of screaming fans—was miles away, and for once, I didn't miss it.

"Okay, snacks secured," Travis announced as he walked into the room, balancing a bowl of popcorn in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. He was in sweatpants and a hoodie, a picture of cosy comfort that made my heart ache in the best way.

I couldn't help but smirk. "Popcorn and cookies? Aren't we fancy tonight?"

He plopped onto the bed beside me, setting the snacks on the nightstand. "I'm a man of simple tastes, babe. But, you know, it's a long movie—gotta stay fueled."

I snuggled into his side as he pulled the blanket over both of us. His arm wrapped around my shoulders instinctively, and I let myself sink into the warmth of him.

"You ready for this?" I asked, pressing play.

He glanced at me, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Am I ready to watch a movie where we all know the ship sinks? Absolutely."

I nudged him. "Hey, don't spoil it for me! I might've forgotten how it ends."

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Let's just hope Jack finally gets on the door this time."

Travis's POV

Fifteen minutes in, and I was already regretting my cocky comments about the movie. Sure, I'd seen Titanic before—it was a classic—but watching it with Taylor was a whole different experience. She was invested.

When Rose's mom started lacing her up into that corset, Taylor muttered, "Ugh, the patriarchy."

"Agreed," I said, nodding solemnly.

And when Jack first showed up on screen, all grinning and scrappy, she let out this little sigh. I narrowed my eyes at her. "What was that?"

"What?" she asked, all innocent.

"That noise. That wistful sigh. Don't tell me you've got a thing for Leonardo DiCaprio."

She tilted her head, smirking. "It's 1997 Leo. Who didn't?"

"Oh, so this is what it's like being with the biggest pop star in the world. My competition is a guy from the '90s. Cool, cool, cool."

Taylor laughed, the kind of laugh that made me forget everything else. "You're ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous," I shot back, stealing a handful of popcorn from her bowl.

"Hey! That's my side!"

"Not anymore."

She glared at me in mock annoyance, but she was smiling again before the next scene even started.

Taylor's POV

The movie progressed, and Travis got quieter. He started out making jokes—something about how there should've been a sequel called Titanic 2: Jack Strikes Back—but by the time the iceberg loomed, he was just holding me tighter.

When the ship hit and the chaos began, I glanced up at him. His jaw was set, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, hiding my smile.

"I'm fine," he said quickly.

"You look stressed."

He shook his head but didn't take his eyes off the screen. "I just don't get why they didn't have more lifeboats."

I kissed his cheek. "History's tragic sometimes."

"Still dumb," he muttered, but his grip on me didn't loosen.

Travis's POV

By the time Jack was freezing his butt off in the Atlantic, I was barely holding it together. Taylor, on the other hand, was crying quietly into my shoulder, and somehow, that broke me even more.

"You're crying," she said, catching me dabbing at my eyes with my sleeve.

"No, I'm not," I lied.

"Yes, you are." She laughed softly, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

"Okay, fine. I'm crying. But, like, a little. It's not a big deal."

She kissed me, her lips salty from her tears. "You're cute when you cry."

"And you're mean when you cry," I shot back, making her laugh again.

As the credits rolled, we sat there in silence for a while, the weight of the movie still lingering in the room.

"Do you think they would've made it if they both got on the door?" I asked eventually.

Taylor rested her head on my chest. "Maybe. But it wasn't really about that, was it?"

"What do you mean?"

"It was about what they meant to each other in that short time," she said. "How they changed each other's lives."

I thought about that as I held her, the love of my life, in my arms. "You're the Rose to my Jack," I said finally.

She looked up at me, one brow raised. "You know Jack dies, right?"

"Fine. Then you're the Jack to my Rose."

"Better," she said, smiling. "Actually maybe you're the Clyde to my Bonnie"

I leaned down and kissed her, the movie forgotten, the world outside the room fading into nothing. In that moment, it was just us—our love, our story, and a night we'd always remember.