I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

Russian Roulette is Not the Same Without a (Nerf) Gun

dis is also short

could everyone do me a favour before you read? my friend, who just found out in december that you could write on here, wrote a really really amazing story and published it. i was wondering if everyone could go give him some love at PinkSheep102

oki that was all go give him some votes and comments because it's really good i'm not disclosing any details so curiosity kills the cat for y'all

The living room was a battlefield. Pillows overturned, furniture barricaded, and neon orange darts scattered across the floor like fallen soldiers.

You crouched behind the couch, clutching a Nerf gun with a wild grin plastered across your face. Across the room, Taylor peeked out from behind an armchair, her hair in playful disarray and her determined expression undercut by the laughter threatening to spill out.

"You think you can beat me, Swift?" you taunted, loading another dart with exaggerated precision. "This isn't folklore---this is ... this is war-klore!"

Taylor narrowed her eyes and smirked. "Big words for someone who’s about to get absolutely annihilated."

And bullets barraged, hitting you from every which way as she walked around the living room, grinning like a maniac.

You yelped, diving further behind the couch as Taylor unleashed a flurry of foam darts, her accuracy almost terrifying. "Okay, okay, call it a truce!" you shouted, laughing as you peeked over the edge, only to immediately duck when another dart whizzed past your head. "I'm out of ammo!"

"Not my problem!" Taylor called back, her voice ringing with mock triumph. She rounded the coffee table with slow, deliberate steps, her Nerf gun raised. "You should’ve thought of that before challenging me, soldier."

Scrambling, you grabbed a stray pillow and held it up like a shield. "I surrender!" you declared dramatically, holding one hand up while clutching the pillow with the other. "Take me prisoner, oh mighty warrior."

Taylor stopped a few feet away, her chest rising and falling as she tried to suppress her giggles. "Prisoner, huh? That comes with conditions."

"Name them," you said, still grinning as you dropped the pillow shield.

"For starters ... " she stepped closer, lowering the Nerf gun. "You have to make me popcorn. And second ... " Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in, just close enough for you to feel her breath. "Admit that I'm the superior Nerf champion."

You stared at her, trying to hold your ground, but her smug expression and the way her hair fell in loose waves around her face made it impossible to take the situation seriously. "Fine," you muttered. "You're the superior Nerf champion."

"And?" she pressed, raising an eyebrow.

You sighed. "And you're ridiculously good at ambushing people with foam bullets."

Taylor grinned, triumphant. "I'll take it. Now, off to the kitchen with you, prisoner. I expect popcorn and no burnt kernels."

She turned to walk away, but before she could take another step, you grabbed the nearest Nerf gun---a backup you'd hidden behind the couch---and fired a dart squarely at her back.

"Truce over!" you yelled, bolting for cover as Taylor spun around, her jaw dropping in mock outrage.

"Oh, you're so dead!" she shouted, already reloading.

But you were too quick for her, grabbing a rapid-fire gun you'd begged her to get you, then served your revenge.

You fired off a relentless stream of darts, laughing maniacally as Taylor ducked behind the armchair, scrambling for cover. Her laughter rang out, echoing yours, as she shouted, "You little cheater! You said you were out of ammo!"

"Classic misdirection, Swift!" you hollered, leaping over the couch like an action hero. "Never trust the enemy!"

Taylor peeked out, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with challenge. "Enemy, huh? Oh, you are so in for it."

Before you could fire again, she lunged forward, tackling you onto the couch in a flurry of limbs and laughter. Foam darts flew everywhere as the two of you wrestled for control of the Nerf gun, giggles mixing with mock battle cries.

"You'll never win!" you exclaimed dramatically, clutching the gun to your chest like it was the Holy Grail.

Taylor rolled her eyes, effortlessly prying the gun from your grip. "Oh, please. I'm Taylor Swift. Winning is kinda my thing."

"Yeah? Well, this is my thing," you retorted, grabbing a nearby cushion and smacking her with it.

Taylor gasped, eyes wide with mock indignation. "Oh, it's on now!" She grabbed her own pillow, and suddenly, the Nerf war devolved into an all-out pillow fight.

Feathers spilled from the seams of one cushion, floating in the air like snow as you both swung and dodged with abandon. By the time the "fight" ended, you were both sprawled on the floor, panting and grinning up at the ceiling.

"Okay," Taylor said between breaths, "maybe ... maybe you’re not the worst opponent I’ve faced."

"Wow," you teased, turning your head to look at her. "Was that a compliment? From the undefeated Nerf champion herself?"

Taylor rolled her eyes but smiled, her fingers brushing against yours where they rested on the carpet. "Don’t get used to it, prisoner. You still owe me popcorn."

"And you still owe me a rematch," you said, sitting up and brushing a feather out of your hair. "But next time, I’m setting booby traps."

Taylor laughed, the sound warm and musical. "Next time, you’re going down."

"You wish," you shot back, but the smile on your face lingered as you got up to fulfill her popcorn demand, already planning your strategies for round two.