I Know Places (Taylor Swift Imagines) (GxG)

Domesticity

v v inspired

"Y/N?" Taylor whines, coming up behind you in a sweatshirt and jogging pants. Her hair is disheveled, her eyes red and tired from lack of sleep. She looks a mess, but it's the most gorgeous sight.

You turn around, spatula still in hand. "What's the matter, Tay?" you whisper, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

Taylor just wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you close, burying her face into the crook of your neck and mumbling something incoherent.

You giggle, turning back to the pancakes you're making, her arms still secure around you. "Speak up, baby, I don't understand."

She says it again, but not any clearer, her voice muffled by your neck. You feel her lips brush your skin as she sighs dramatically. Finally, she tilts her head back just enough to mumble, "You're up too early. Come back to bed."

You laugh softly, flipping a pancake with one hand as your other rests on her back. "Someone has to make sure you eat, sleepyhead. Besides, you didn't seem too keen on waking up when I tried earlier."

Taylor groans, her grip tightening as if to physically drag you away from the stove. "I don't need pancakes. I need you."

"Flattering," you tease, "but if I leave now, these are going to burn. And you’ll get grumpy if you're hungry."

Her head falls against your shoulder in defeat. "You're impossible."

You smirk, shaking your head. "And yet, you married me."

She hums against you, the warmth of her body radiating through your clothes. "Worst decision I ever made," she jokes, though the way her fingers trace idle patterns on your waist says otherwise.

You elbow her playfully, causing her to finally let go. "Go set the table, Mrs. Swift. Breakfast is almost ready."

Taylor pouts, but she does as she's told, dragging her feet dramatically to the dining table. As she starts placing plates, she mutters, "I’ll only forgive you if you put extra syrup on mine."

"Deal," you say with a grin, feeling her gaze linger on you as you finish up.

ⅩⅢ

The sound of the dryer buzzing pulls you from your book. You stretch and head to the laundry room, only to find Taylor sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the dryer, sorting socks.

"Hey, you're actually doing laundry," you tease, leaning against the doorframe.

Taylor looks up, a single sock dangling from her hand. "I'm trying, but where do they go? Is there a sock portal I don’t know about?"

You laugh, walking over to sit beside her. "It's the universe's greatest mystery. Here, let me help."

You both fall into a quiet rhythm, occasionally tossing mismatched socks into a growing "lost cause" pile. At one point, Taylor finds one of her own old concert T-shirts in the clean laundry and holds it up.

"Remember this show?" she asks, a nostalgic smile spreading across her face.

"Of course," you reply. "You dragged me onstage to dance during Shake It Off. I thought I was going to die."

"You were adorable," she says, leaning in to kiss your temple.

You grin. "Still am."

Taylor laughs, tossing the shirt over your head before tackling you onto the pile of warm clothes, kissing you, both of you giggling uncontrollably.

ⅩⅢ

Taylor trails behind you in the cereal aisle, holding the cart and looking bored.

"We’re getting the boring granola, aren’t we?" she asks, eyeing the colorful boxes of sugary options.

"You love granola," you remind her, scanning the shelf for your favourite brand.

"Yeah, but I miss Lucky Charms," she whines, leaning on the handle of the cart like a child.

You grab a box of granola and then sigh, reaching for a box of Lucky Charms as well. Taylor's eyes light up like you’ve just told her she won a Grammy.

"You spoil me," she says, grinning as she plops the cereal into the cart.

"You deserve it," you reply, nudging her with your hip.

Taylor's smile softens, and she leans over to kiss your cheek. "Remind me to write a song about how cute you are."

You scrunch up your nose, giggling as you kiss her cheek.

ⅩⅢ

It's late, and the two of you are curled up on the couch under a shared blanket, the TV screen glowing softly. A movie you've both seen a hundred times plays in the background, but neither of you is really watching.

Taylor's head rests on your shoulder, her long legs draped over your lap. You absentmindedly run your fingers through her hair, feeling her relax further against you.

"Are you even paying attention?" you ask, glancing down at her.

"Not really," she admits, tilting her head up to look at you. "You’re way more interesting than this movie."

"That's a bold-faced lie," you tease, but your heart flutters anyway.

Taylor grins, reaching up to gently cup your cheek. "No, it's not," she whispers, pressing a kiss to your lips.

The movie becomes even more irrelevant as you pull her closer.

ⅩⅢ

Rain patters against the windows as you sit at the kitchen table, a mug of tea in your hands. Taylor is across from you, scribbling lyrics in a notebook. Her glasses are perched on her nose, and she's wearing the oversized cardigan you got her last Christmas.

"You're staring," she says without looking up, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Can you blame me?" you reply, taking a sip of tea.

Taylor finally glances up, her expression soft. "You're distracting."

"I'm just sitting here."

"Exactly," she says, shaking her head. "How am I supposed to focus when you look like that?"

You roll your eyes, but your cheeks flush. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love me for it," she quips, blowing you a kiss before going back to her notebook.

You smile into your tea, feeling grateful for rainy days like this.