save me - taylor swift

The next morning, Ruby arrived at the studio a little earlier than usual, telling herself it was just to scope the area, settle in—but she knew the truth. She wanted to see Taylor. Needed to, if she was honest with herself. She hadn't stopped thinking about her all night—the softness of her skin, the sound of her voice breaking on a plea, the heat between them, the way Taylor looked at her like she felt it too. That something between them wasn't just lust. It was real. It was dangerous. It was undeniable.

She made her way to the upper floor where the private writing studio was—a room tucked away from the chaos of production. Taylor's favorite place. Ruby told herself it was just to check if her wrists were okay. That's all. But the ache in her chest said otherwise.

She reached the door and knocked lightly before stepping in.

The soft hum of piano chords floated through the room. Taylor was sitting at the baby grand, barefoot and wearing an oversized beige sweater, her long hair tucked behind her ears, a pencil tucked messily in her bun. A leather notebook rested on the edge of the piano, scribbled lyrics covering the pages, and her fingers moved instinctively over the keys as she hummed quietly to herself.

The moment she turned and spotted Ruby, her whole face lit up like the morning sun. She stood almost too quickly, the pencil dropping to the floor, forgotten. Ruby stepped inside just as Taylor walked over, arms already outstretched.

She wrapped them around Ruby's neck in an easy, intimate hug. Ruby's hands instinctively found Taylor's waist, pulling her close, fitting them together like two puzzle pieces.

"Did you sleep well?" Ruby asked, voice low, her lips brushing against Taylor's ear.

Taylor pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, a small smile playing on her mouth. "Travis was snoring," she said with a little scrunch of her nose. "But I slept more than well."

Ruby rolled her eyes at the mention of him, the name alone enough to sour her mood. But she said nothing. Instead, she gently took Taylor's hands in hers and raised them to examine her wrists.

A faint, pink line marked where the cuffs had been, but the redness had faded. No broken skin. No swelling. Just a memory.

Ruby held them a moment longer, her thumbs brushing over the delicate skin with care. Then, satisfied, she let go and looked up. She couldn't help herself. She leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft at first—unrushed, lingering. But as Taylor responded, her fingers finding their way into Ruby's dark hair, the kiss deepened. Ruby's hands gripped Taylor's waist tighter, holding her like she was afraid to let go.

She turned them gently, pressing Taylor's back to the wall, her lips never leaving hers. One hand slid under the oversized sweater, fingers skimming the smooth, warm skin of her waist. The other trailed lower, slipping into the waistband of Taylor's pajama pants.

Taylor gasped softly against her mouth, her nails curling at the back of Ruby's neck.

But then Ruby bit down—accidentally, or maybe not—on Taylor's bottom lip, hard enough to make her flinch.

Taylor winced, a soft sound of surprise escaping her throat. When Ruby pulled back, a drop of blood welled up on her lower lip.

Ruby froze for half a second, staring at it with a mix of awe and guilt, but Taylor didn't seem to care. She just leaned in and kissed her again, blood and all.

Ruby's hand was just beginning to slip past the last barrier of fabric, Taylor's breath shaky with need, when—

The door flung open.

They jolted apart like they'd been electrocuted, hearts hammering in their chests.

Jack stood there, deadpan, with a clipboard in his hand and a long-suffering sigh.