Chapter Text
Travis looked around the room, confused—he had no idea where he was.
The room was cozy, the fireplace giving the room a warm glow. He sat up on the red velvety couch, rubbing his head as he attempted to figure out how exactly he ended up there.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching the room, and he held on tight to the couch, not knowing who or what he was about to see.
Taylor entered the room, clutching a steaming mug in her hands, and stopped in her tracks as she noticed Travis sitting up in the bed. Her eyes scanned him carefully.
"Good, you're awake..." she said softly, taking a few steps closer to the couch, placing the mug on the wooden table.
Travis nodded, still feeling a bit disoriented. He looked up at her. "Where am I?" he asked.
"My house, well, my cottage."
Travis blinked, absorbing that information. His eyes moved around the room again—wooden walls, soft blankets, a book lying open on the armchair by the fire.
"Your cottage...?" he repeated slowly. "How'd I get here? Did you bring me in?"
"You passed out in the forest, darling."
He tried to recall what had happened but nothing, not a single thought. "I passed out?" he echoed, more to himself than to her.
He struggled to remember, but the harder he tried, the more his head throbbed. "How long was I out for?"
"I don't know," she sipped her tea. "Maybe a long time."
Travis frowned slightly, unsettled by her vague answer. He looked down at his hands—no cuts, no bruises—but he felt weak all over.
"Long time...?" he murmured, voice low. "Why don't you know? Did you just find me lying there?"
He glanced back up at her now—really looking this time—and something about the way she held herself, calm, it tugged at a distant memory he couldn't place yet.
"Yes, I found you and brought you here."
Travis nodded slowly. A part of him felt relieved that she had found him and brought him to a safe place, but another part of him felt uneasy.
He tried to shake it off, telling himself it was just a matter of time before he could remember what had happened.
His eyes roamed over her again, trying to place what was so familiar. He had the feeling that he knew her from somewhere...
She saw him staring.
"You alright?"
Travis snapped out of his thoughts and nodded quickly. "Yeah, fine. Just... a bit confused, I guess."
He shifted on the couch, wincing slightly. "My head's hurting," he admitted, rubbing his temple again. "And I can't shake this feeling that I-I know you from somewhere. It's kind of driving me crazy."
He looked at her more intently now—her blonde hair catching the firelight, those blue eyes that somehow felt deeply familiar. There was something about them...
But instead of saying that out loud—he just cleared his throat quietly and said:
"Thanks... for bringing me here."
"You're welcome."
A cat padded in the room. "Hi Liv" She said
Travis watched as the small cat walked into the room, tail flicking.
"Liv?" he asked softly, eyes following the soft cat as she curled around Taylor's legs.
Taylor scratched gently behind Liv's ears. "Olivia," she corrected. "But everyone calls her Liv. At least I do."
Travis' gaze flicked between Taylor and the cat.
He reached out a tentative hand, letting Olivia sniff it cautiously before gently stroking her soft fur.
"She's beautiful," he murmured, eyes softening. But then he looked back at Taylor—really looked at her. It was like a puzzle begging to be solved.
"You need anything? Tea? Medications?" She asked.
Travis shook his head. He was about to decline her offer when his stomach betrayed him, grumbling audibly. He let out a chuckle.
"Except maybe some food," he admitted.
"Food! yes." She stood up, her nightgown was white, lacy, tight on the waist.
"What would you like?"
Travis watched her stand, unable to help but notice the way the nightgown clung to her figure.
He tried to stop his thoughts. Still, when she asked what he wanted, the first thing that came to mind was "you."
He quickly pushed the thought away, clearing his throat awkwardly.
"Uh, whatever... I'm not picky," he managed to stammer out. "Just something to fill my stomach."
"I have cookies, vegetarian burger, vegetables, fruit..."
Travis blinked. "You've got a whole kitchen back there?" he asked. Then, after a beat, "Cookies sound amazing right now."
"They're chai cookies." She gestures for him to come in the kitchen.
Travis nodded, leaving the comfort and warmth of the couch. He stood up, a little shakier than he expected, and followed her into the kitchen.
"Chai cookies, huh? I love chai," he admitted as they walked together. His eyes lingered on the way her nightgown swayed with every step, an attractive distraction he quickly shook off.
She pulled the cookies out the oven and handed them to him. Travis took the cookies, the warm, spicy scent of chai filling the air.
"Thanks."
He looked around the kitchen, taking note of the homey atmosphere. There was something strangely intimate about being here with her in the late night.
Taking a bite of the cookie, he almost groaned at the flavor. "Damn," he said after chewing. "These are seriously good."
"They're my specialty." She smiled, her hands on her hips. "By the way, there's a storm coming tonight, you should stay."
Travis glanced out the kitchen window, noticing for the first time that dark clouds were rolling in. Lightning flickered in the distance, thunder following.
He took another bite of the cookie, considering her suggestion.
"That's a pretty bad storm," he said between chews. "You sure it's alright if I stay?"
She nodded.
"Alright," he agreed, nodding slightly. "I'd appreciate it."
As much as he was still struggling with the memory loss, he knew he'd rather be here—in this cottage with her—than out in the storm. Besides, she was kind enough to bring him inside and feed him, it felt rude to leave now.
"Oh—I'm so rude, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Taylor."
Travis's eyes flicked back to her face, the name repeating several times in his head. Taylor.
"Taylor..." He let the name roll off his tongue, tasting it like the chai cookies. Somehow the name seemed to suit her perfectly, yet still feel... off.
He offered her a polite smile. "I'm Travis," he said, just realizing he hadn't properly introduced himself either.
"I know."
Travis arched an eyebrow, not sure if he'd misheard her or not.
"You... know?" he repeated, voice mixed with a note of surprise. He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the next, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.
The air between them suddenly seemed heavier. "You told me 2 minutes ago, bad headache huh?"
Travis blinked, feeling slightly silly for forgetting such a basic piece of recent conversation.
"Right," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, the headache's still here... making me a bit fuzzy, I guess."
The entire situation was odd—he couldn't remember how he'd gotten there, but this woman knew he had a headache.
She sat down at the table, stealing one cookie.
"So? Who are you." She said.
He took a seat across from her at the table.
"Me?" he echoed, a note of slight humor in his voice. "What do you want to know about me?"
It was a casual question, but something about her gaze suddenly made him feel like he was being scrutinized. Studied.
"Uhm, job? Family? I don't know..."
Travis leaned back in the chair, considering the questions. They were simple enough, and he supposed they were normal getting to know you questions.
"Job-wise, I'm a football player. Play for the Kansas City Chiefs. Tight end," he said, watching her reaction. "Family, uh... parents live in Kansas City, younger brother too. Got a couple of nieces and nephews I adore."
"I knew I've seen you before! You're famous!" She chirped.
Travis chuckled, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips at her exclamation. "Guilty as charged," he admitted with a nod. "Yeah, I guess I am."
It still felt a bit surreal when people recognized him, but he was used to it by now. After all, he'd been playing professional football for several years already.
She smiled. "Sorry for kidnapping you." She said. "You know, my brother is a big fan."
Travis chuckled, waving off her apology.
"No harm done, really. I've woken up in stranger places before," he teased lightly.
"Your brother's a fan?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Yup."
"Tell your brother I said thanks," he said with a playful grin. "Maybe next time he can ask for an autograph, when I'm not passed out in the woods."
She chuckles. "He already has one."
Travis's eyebrows raised in disbelief, genuinely impressed now.
"He does?" he repeated, a hint of surprise in his tone. "How long has he been a fan?"
Travis leaned forward, more invested in this conversation he expected to be.
"My dad is friends with your coach, so he was able to. He's been a fan for at least 5 years."
"Your dad's friends with Andy Reid?" he repeated.
She nodded. "Yes he is."
Travis started to put pieces together, but he didn't quite get it yet. He leaned back, processing this new information. His mind raced—connections forming but not quite clicking into place.
"Wait... so you've known about me for a while?" he asked, voice lower now, more thoughtful.
He studied her face again—the way she carried herself...
"I mean I knew there was a player called Travis Kelce. You know, I've been in the woods for only 2 years."
Travis furrowed his brow, the pieces finally starting to slot into place. "Two years?" he echoed. "You left civilization and just..."
He gestured to the cabin, the surrounding forest beyond the windows, the isolation.
"Why would you do that?" he asked.
"I was tired of society." She shrugged.
Travis listened, his expression softening. He'd never met someone who walked away from everything like that—no fame, no city lights, just peace and quiet.
"Tired of society?" he repeated quietly. "Must've been tough." He paused before adding with a faint smile: "Though I guess you're still connected somehow... if your brother's into football."
"I am still connected, I used to live in New York. I'm on a break."
"New York... that's a different world from this."
He gestured to the cabin.
"Yes. My job was getting too much..."
Travis nodded slowly. He knew about demanding jobs, about feeling exhausted by expectations and responsibilities. "What did you do?" he asked, folding his arms on the table. "Must've been important if you felt you had to run away."
"I did music."
Travis's eyebrows raised in surprise. He wasn't expecting that answer.
"Music huh?" he said, a note of genuine interest in his voice. "You a singer?"
"Guilty." She chuckled.
Travis let out a small laugh, the sound deep and warm. "Alright, so you're some mysterious musical genius who just disappeared into the woods. I have to ask... any chance I know your music?"
"You might, depends if it's your genre." She shrugged, folding her arms on her chest.
Travis thought for a moment, mentally going through the tunes he listened to.
"Country, rock, rap, pop, bit of everything..." he listed off, shrugging casually. "Pretty open-minded with music. Who knows, I might've heard a track of yours."
"Hint, I used to wear red lipstick?"
Travis blinked, the mental image of red lips forming in his mind. "Red lipstick?" he repeated, scratching his jaw. Then it hit him.
His eyes widened slightly as fragments started to click together—the name Taylor...the music... those hauntingly familiar blue eyes...
"No way..." he murmured under his breath. "You're Taylor Swift?"
She smiled and raised her hands. "Guilty again."
Travis sat there, stunned. His brain short-circuited for a solid three seconds.
Taylor Swift. The actual Taylor Swift. One of the biggest artists in the world—sitting across from him, eating cookies in a cozy forest cottage like it was completely normal.
He blinked rapidly, trying to process it all.
"Holy... I mean," he stammered before regaining his composure with an awkward chuckle. "I've seen your concerts on TV! My niece has every single album!"
She laughed. "Does she? That's so cute!"
Travis laughed too, a genuine, lopsided grin spreading across his face. "She even got a real life size cut-out," he admitted. "It kinda scares me more than it should."
She put her hands on her face. "A CUT OUT?"
Travis nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement at her horrified reaction.
"Yup," he confirmed, holding back a chuckle. "A full on cardboard replica. It's...something else."
He couldn't help but find the whole situation slightly ridiculous. Here he was, a professional football player, telling Taylor freaking Swift about his niece's obsession with her.
"Oh my god!" she laughs. "Tell her I said hi."
Travis blinked, a small laugh escaping him. "You want me to tell my niece that you, THE Taylor Swift, say hi?" he repeated, still incredulous.
He couldn't believe this conversation was real. He rubbed the back of his neck. "You realize she'd probably faint if I told her that, right?"
"And I want a picture of that cutout. Is it even of a good picture of me?"
Travis burst out laughing. "Oh man, she picked one from your Red era," he said between chuckles. "The iconic red lipstick pose—so dramatic it looks like you're about to step off a runway."
She buried her face in her palms, then groaned.
He leaned back, folding his arms and grinning widely, eyes sparkling. "Can handle your own image?" he teased.
"Sometimes no."
"Must be weird having your face plastered everywhere."
"Not in the woods!" She sighs. "I must look different now, no makeup and everything."
Travis studied her then—really looked. Without the stage lights, without the polished glamour of a concert or magazine cover, she was just Taylor.
"You do look different," he admitted. "But not worse or anything."
He hesitated before adding, "If anything... you look like someone I'd actually want to know."
She smiled. "You flirt."
He was feeling comfortable now, in this cabin with Taylor Swift, talking like old friends.
"Me? Flirting?" he feigned innocence, hand on his chest dramatically. "I'm just stating facts," he added. "You're more fun like this, anyway, when you're not putting on a show."
"I saved you and you're already flirting."
Travis let out a laugh, genuinely amused. "Can you blame me?" he asked. "You saved my life and then turned out to be one of the most famous people on the planet. It's a lot to process."
He held up his hands in surrender. "I'm a simple man—I see a pretty woman rescue me, I flirt. Sorry, I don't make the rules."
She rested her chin on the palm of her hand.
"We should go to sleep." Then she stood up.
Travis knew she was right, the rational part of his brain reminding him he was tired and needed rest.
But he didn't want this night to end. The idea of sleep and potentially missing out on more of her company felt disappointing.
"Do we have to?"
She froze mid step, turning around.
"What? You want me to put on a show?" She joked.
Travis chuckled, appreciating her humor.
"No, no," he said, "No shows, no performances."
He paused, his voice turning more sincere. "I guess I just..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. He didn't want to sound too eager or desperate, but he also wanted to be honest. "I guess I just don't want the night to be over yet."
She smiled at him, her blonde hair accentuated by the candle she was holding. "Bedtime story?"
He chuckled and shook his head slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"A bedtime story, huh?" he repeated, amused.
"All right, then," he said, playing along. "I'm all ears."
"In bed."
Travis's eyebrows shot up at her words.
"In bed...?" he repeated, his voice a bit huskier than he'd meant it to be.
The thought of lying in bed with Taylor Swift—even just to hear a story—was enough to make his heart rate increase slightly.
He cleared his throat, trying to cover up his reaction. "You're, uh, serious?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"Listen, unfortunately I only have one bed. If you're not gonna murder me, then let's go."
The thought of being in such close proximity to her, in a dimly lit room, the warm blankets and soft mattress underneath them...
He tried to shake off the image, his mind already supplying several less than appropriate scenarios. Instead, he pushed his chair back and stood up.
"Well when you put it like that... how could I say no?"
"Come on" She locked the front door of the cottage and led him to her bedroom.