Taylor Swift one shots

Migraine

Taylor had felt the dull ache behind her eyes when she woke up that morning. It was a familiar sensation—one that she had dealt with before, but still dreaded. The pressure started to build as the day went on, and by the time she arrived at the interview studio, it had evolved into a full-blown migraine.

She had powered through the first few questions, smiling and answering as best as she could, but each bright light and sound in the room felt like an assault on her senses. Her head throbbed with every pulse of her heartbeat, and the nausea that accompanied it began to set in. Taylor tried to keep her composure, but her vision was starting to blur, and she could feel her energy draining fast.

Halfway through a question about her upcoming projects, she couldn't take it anymore. She subtly pressed her hand to her forehead, trying to shield her eyes from the blinding studio lights. The interviewer noticed her discomfort, and her head of security, John, who was always stationed nearby, did too.

Taylor glanced over at him, giving a small nod. It was their unspoken signal—she needed out. John quickly moved into action, leaning toward the show's producers and quietly informing them that Taylor wasn't feeling well and needed to cut the interview short.

Taylor offered a weak smile to the interviewer, her voice softer than before. "I'm really sorry, but I'm not feeling well. I think I need to step out."

The interviewer, concerned, nodded quickly. "Of course, Taylor. Take care of yourself."

As soon as she stood up, the dizziness hit her full force, and her legs felt unsteady beneath her. John was by her side instantly, his hand gently supporting her elbow as he guided her out of the studio. The rest of her security team fell in line, forming a protective barrier around her as they moved toward the exit.

Once they reached the car, Taylor let out a shaky breath, grateful to be away from the flashing cameras and lights. She slid into the back seat, resting her head against the cool window as John climbed in next to her.

"Do you want to go straight home?" John asked, his voice calm and steady as he watched her closely.

"Yeah," Taylor murmured, closing her eyes. "I just need to lie down. This migraine is killing me."

John nodded and relayed the message to the driver. The car pulled away from the studio, and Taylor focused on her breathing, trying to ease the tension that was wrapped around her head like a vice. The quiet hum of the engine was a welcome contrast to the noise of the interview studio.

John handed her a bottle of water. "Drink some. It'll help."

Taylor took a small sip, appreciating the gesture. She knew John was always looking out for her, not just in terms of physical safety but her well-being in every sense.

By the time they arrived at her home, Taylor felt completely drained. John helped her inside, guiding her carefully up the stairs and into her bedroom. The curtains were already drawn, casting the room in a dim, comforting light—just what she needed to escape the sensory overload.

"Do you need anything else?" John asked, watching her as she slowly lowered herself onto the bed.

"No," she whispered, resting her head against the pillow. "Just some rest."

"Okay. I'll be right outside if you need me," John said, his voice soft.

As she closed her eyes, Taylor felt a wave of relief wash over her, knowing she was finally in a safe, quiet space. The pounding in her head was still there, but now, in the peace of her home, she could finally let herself rest.

And with her security team standing guard, Taylor knew she could drift off without a worry, knowing they'd always be there when she needed them.