Tayvis One-Shots

cookies

Travis's POV

The house was quiet, the kind of silence that only comes in the middle of the night. I was sprawled out on the couch, half-watching some late-night sports recap, my eyelids heavy but not quite ready to call it a night. That's when I heard it, a soft rustling sound coming from the kitchen.

At first, I thought I was imagining it. Maybe the fridge settling or the wind outside. But then came the unmistakable clink of a plate, followed by a muffled, frustrated groan.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I pushed myself off the couch and padded toward the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

And there she was.

Taylor stood in front of the open fridge, her blonde hair a little messy and falling into her face, wearing my hoodie that was at least three sizes too big for her. She had a container of cookies in one hand and was trying to balance a plate in the other, muttering something under her breath about the shelf being "too high for no reason."

"Babe?" I said, my voice still scratchy with sleep.

She froze, the plate teetering precariously before she caught it. Turning around, she gave me a sheepish smile. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

I shook my head, leaning against the doorway. "Not really. But what are you doing raiding the fridge at-" I glanced at the stove clock, "-2 AM?"

She shrugged, setting the plate down on the counter and piling cookies onto it. "Couldn't sleep. Too much on my mind."

"Uh-huh," I said, eyeing the growing stack of cookies. "And those are the answer to your insomnia?"

She smirked, popping a piece of cookie into her mouth. "Don't judge me, Kelce. Chocolate chip cookies are therapeutic."

I crossed the room and grabbed a cookie off her plate, earning an exaggerated gasp of offense. "Well, if they're that magical, I better stick around to see if they work."

Taylor rolled her eyes but didn't argue, grabbing her plate and hopping up onto the counter like it was second nature. She took another bite and sighed dramatically, clearly preparing herself for something.

That's when I knew. She wasn't just here for cookies.

"What's on your mind, Swift?" I asked, sliding onto a stool by the island and grabbing another cookie.

She hesitated for a moment, chewing slowly, before finally looking up at me. "You really want to know?"

"Always."

She started slow, like she was testing the waters, her voice soft and a little unsure. "Okay, so you know how I've been trying to find this perfect little coffee shop, right? Like, not a chain. Somewhere cozy, where I can just write and not feel like I'm being watched?"

I nodded, biting into a cookie. "You've mentioned it once or twice."

"Well," she said, setting the plate down beside her, "every place I try ends up being terrible. Either the coffee tastes like dirt, or they play music so loud I can't think. And don't even get me started on the last one, it was filled with people just blatantly staring at me. Like, do I have something on my face?"

"You mean besides the fact that you're Taylor Swift?" I teased, grinning.

She narrowed her eyes at me, though the corner of her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile. "Not helpful, Kelce."

"Okay, sorry," I said, raising my hands in mock surrender. "Continue."

She huffed and grabbed another cookie, breaking off a piece and twirling it between her fingers. "It's not just the coffee shops. It's... everything lately. I feel like I can't just exist without someone having an opinion about it. If I go somewhere, I'm being 'too public.' If I stay home, I'm being 'too private.' If I sneeze the wrong way, it's probably going to end up in some headline like, 'Taylor Swift Sneezes! What Does It Mean?'"