Tayvis one shots

Needles

After another sold-out show on her Eras Tour, Taylor Swift steps offstage, her adrenaline crashing as her body begins to feel the strain of months of back-to-back performances. The stadium lights fade, but Taylor can barely muster the energy to even greet her team. Exhaustion washes over her, and she knows what's coming—an IV drip. She's been through this before, and as much as she hates it, the IV helps her recover after these physically grueling performances.

But Taylor has a secret: she's terrified of needles. The kind of terror that makes her stomach twist and her palms go clammy at just the thought of one piercing her skin. She's done everything to avoid them in the past, but tonight, she's depleted. Her team insists, and she knows they're right, but it doesn't make it any easier.

In the midst of her internal panic, her phone vibrates, and she smiles faintly when she sees a text from Travis Kelce. He had watched the whole show from backstage, supporting her like he always does when he's not busy with his own NFL season. Even after months of dating, Taylor still feels a wave of comfort whenever he's around.

"How are you doing, babe? You were amazing out there."
Her fingers hover over the keyboard as she contemplates what to say. She knows she'll need him tonight—not just because he's her boyfriend, but because he's her anchor in moments like these.

"Not feeling great. Need an IV. You know how I get."
Almost instantly, her phone lights up again.

"Be there in two. Hang tight."
As promised, Travis arrives in record time, concern etched across his face as he sees the weariness in her eyes. "Hey, hey, what's going on?" he asks softly, immediately closing the gap between them. Taylor sinks into his arms, and for a moment, everything else fades. His strong, steady presence calms her, but the looming fear of the IV still makes her tense.

"I hate this," she mumbles into his chest, her voice barely audible. "I hate the needles. I know I need it, but..."

Travis pulls back slightly, holding her face in his hands. "I know you hate it, Tay, but you're so strong. You've been through way tougher things than this." His voice is gentle but firm, the way he knows she needs it to be. He sits beside her on the couch, holding her close, and runs his hand soothingly down her arm. "Let me be your distraction. We can talk about anything, alright? You're not alone."

The nurse walks in with the IV equipment, and Taylor's eyes widen, her heart rate quickening at the sight. Her hands instinctively reach for Travis, and he's right there, squeezing her hand and giving her that steady, reassuring look.

"I'll keep talking," he says softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "We'll get through this together. Just focus on me."

Taylor can't help but laugh through the nerves. "What, are you going to tell me about football right now?" she teases, trying to keep things light despite her growing anxiety.

"Actually, I was thinking about telling you how I almost fell on my face trying to get up here so fast," Travis jokes, his grin widening. "Not my finest moment."

She squeezes his hand tighter as the nurse gets closer with the needle. Her breath hitches, but Travis keeps going, his voice steady, his hand a grounding presence. "Remember that time I tried to cook for you and almost set the whole kitchen on fire? Or the time I convinced you I knew how to change a tire and then called AAA?"

Despite herself, Taylor snorts. "I knew you didn't know how to change a tire," she says, her voice shaking slightly as she tries to focus on his words instead of the needle. "But I didn't want to embarrass you."

"Yeah, well, I was definitely embarrassed when the tow truck guy recognized me and asked for a selfie while changing my tire," Travis says with a smirk, never letting go of her hand. "I'm a great tight end, not so much a mechanic."

The nurse inserts the needle, and Taylor winces, her grip on Travis tightening. He immediately leans in closer, his forehead resting against hers. "You're doing so good, babe. I'm right here. It's almost over."

The worst part passes quickly, and though the IV is now in place, Taylor feels the last remnants of her fear dissipate as Travis continues to talk, his voice low and comforting.

As the fluids start to work their magic, Taylor begins to relax. Her body feels lighter, though her hand remains entwined with Travis's. "Thank you," she whispers, looking up at him with a soft smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

Travis brushes his thumb over the back of her hand. "You'd do just fine, because you're a badass. But I'm glad I can be here for you anyway."

They sit in silence for a few moments, the tension of the night fading as Taylor rests her head on his shoulder. Exhaustion still clings to her, but with Travis by her side, it feels manageable—like she can face anything, even the things that scare her most.

"You take care of me so much," she murmurs, her eyelids growing heavy. "I'm supposed to be the one cheering you on."

"You do, every day," he replies softly, kissing the top of her head. "But even superstars need someone to lean on sometimes."

As Taylor finally drifts into a much-needed rest, Travis stays with her, his hand never leaving hers. He watches over her with quiet devotion, content to be her support, her protector, and her biggest fan—onstage and off.