TAYVIS ONE SHOTS

Married Off For the Highest Bid (Part 2)

A/N I WROTE THIS AND SCHEDULED IT DO YOU GUYS MISS ME IM PROBS LIVING MY BEST LIFE IN PARIS

OMG NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE MY 100TH AHHHH

GUYS IM TEMPTED TO WRITE A HUNGER GAMES AU ONE SHOT SHOULD I

Taylor sat on the edge of the ornate chair in her parents' living room, the uncomfortable silence stretching between her and Travis like a chasm. The earlier ceremony—small, quiet, and intimate—had left her in a surreal haze. She could still feel the weight of the ring on her finger, cold and unfamiliar. Now, sitting across from Travis in this too-perfect, too-staged environment, she felt like a guest in her own life.

Travis, for his part, didn't look much more comfortable. His usually confident posture seemed muted, and his fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrest of his chair. He wasn't dressed in his usual casual, laid-back style either. The suit he wore was sharp but foreign on him, like he was playing a role he hadn't agreed to audition for.

"You know," Taylor started, breaking the silence, "you don't have to keep looking like you're about to be executed."

Travis glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here, too."

Her lips twitched into something between a smile and a grimace. "Fair."

The truth was, neither of them had chosen this. The arrangement had been born out of necessity—or convenience, depending on how one looked at it. Their families, intertwined by business and social circles, had pushed for this marriage like it was a deal to be signed, not a life to be lived. And now here they were, bound together by a piece of paper and the expectations of everyone but themselves.

"I'm not exactly thrilled about this either," Travis added after a pause, leaning back in his chair. His voice was quieter now, less defensive. "But we might as well figure out how to make it work."

Taylor tilted her head, studying him. "Make it work? That sounds... optimistic."

"I'm nothing if not optimistic," he shot back, a hint of a smirk breaking through the tension. It softened him in a way she hadn't expected, and for a moment, she almost forgot why she was so mad at him—or the situation.

Almost.

"Let's just get through tonight," she replied, her tone flat but less combative. "One step at a time."

She was practically shaking the whole night and not just from the cold. What if he wasn't as charming as he appeared? Would she be stuck with him forever? Would they have to have kids?

We got into the car the tension palpable. Travis clearly having had a drink or two and Taylor still sober.

"You know your kind of cute" he says, casually draping his hand around her shoulder. "I wouldn't mind having you as my wife.

Just keep telling yourself he's drunk Taylor. 

He doesn't mean it.

"Go away" she said.

"That's not a nice way to treat your husband" he smirked.

"You aren't my husband" she scoffed. "I only just met you. And I didn't even know you existed before then"

He shrugged trying to seem unbothered, "Well in the eyes of the law I am"

"I hate the law" Taylor said rolling her eyes.

---

The first night in their shared home was predictably awkward. It wasn't some grand estate but rather a sleek, modern house that both families had agreed would suit their "new life" together. Taylor walked through the space, her heels clicking on the polished floors as she tried to acclimate herself to the idea of living here—living with him.