Tayvis One-Shots

through his lens (m)

okay somehow this ended up as 5000 (5294 to be exact) words but it was so much fun to write

Taylor's POV

The car door opened, and a rush of cool evening air hit my skin as I stepped out onto the crimson carpet. The moment my heel touched the ground, the energy of the Grammys enveloped me like a living thing. Cameras flashed in rapid succession, a strobe-light symphony against the velvet backdrop of the night.

I paused for a moment, letting the buzz wash over me. My dress was unlike anything I'd ever worn before, jet-black and bold, with sheer panels that danced along my hips and a daring plunge that left just enough to the imagination. A delicate chain traced the open back, sparkling under the glare of the lights. My hair flowed freely down my back in golden waves, soft and voluminous, catching the faint breeze as I moved.

The voices began immediately, a chaotic blur of "Taylor, over here!" and "This way, Taylor!" I gave them what they wanted, a turn of the head, a practiced smile, a confident pose. The clicks of the cameras were deafening, but I barely heard them. Nights like this were routine now, a performance within a performance.

But then, I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.

"Over here, blondie!"

The voice was low, rich, and playful, cutting through the din like a melody in a noisy room. My head turned instinctively toward the source.

There he was, standing near the back of the press line. He was tall, impossibly tall, with broad shoulders that filled out his black suit like it had been tailored specifically to make him look even better. His beard framed a jawline sharp enough to carve marble, and his emerald green eyes gazed into mine. 

He was holding a camera, but it wasn't aimed at me. Not yet. Instead, he was grinning, a cocky, lopsided grin that showed he knew exactly what he was doing. And then, as if to hammer the point home, he winked, his eyes straying down to my cleavage.

My lips parted in surprise before I quickly composed myself. Two could play at that game. I tilted my head just slightly, letting my hair cascade over one shoulder, and gave him a look, a raised eyebrow and the faintest curve of my lips, a silent challenge.

His grin widened as he lifted his camera and finally snapped a shot. The flash lit up the space between us, but it felt like no one else existed in that moment.

I turned away, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I continued down the carpet, but I couldn't resist one last glance over my shoulder.

He was still watching me, his camera lowered, that same maddening grin on his face.

I walked away, heart racing, knowing this night had just gotten a lot more interesting.

The buzz of the room shifted as I made my way inside the venue, but my mind was still lingering on the red carpet. More specifically, on him. His boldness was unlike anything I was used to—most people either fawned or froze, but he'd gone straight for playful, daring. And that wink? It wasn't something you forgot easily.

I settled into my assigned table, greeting the familiar faces around me with polite smiles and nods. The conversations were lively, but they blurred into background noise. My thoughts were preoccupied, my eyes scanning the room with a casualness I hoped wasn't too obvious.

It didn't take long to find him.

He was stationed near the back of the room, camera in hand but not in use. He wasn't trying to blend in, his height and sheer presence made that impossible, but he wasn't seeking attention either. His gaze moved over the crowd, steady and observant, until it landed on me.