Taylor Swift and Tree Paine Oneshots

The attack

TW: Violence 

Taylor had been working late into the night on a new song for Folklore. It was supposed to be just another quiet evening, the same way she had spent so many during the pandemic, writing, composing, and pouring her heart into music. Her bodyguard, Parker, was patrolling the grounds like he always did, and everything felt safe. Normal.

But that night, normal shattered.

It started with a noise. Something faint, something out of place. Taylor's fingers hovered over her guitar strings as she heard it, but she brushed it off. Maybe it was just the house settling.

Then, a crash.

Before she could react, a shadow moved swiftly in the corner of her eye. She turned, just in time to see a man charging toward her, a knife glinting in his hand. Her mind went blank with terror, but instinct kicked in—she tried to run, but he was too fast. He grabbed her from behind, the knife slashing across her back.

She screamed in agony as the blade tore through her skin, leaving three deep, jagged wounds. But then, just as quickly as the attack began, Parker burst into the room. He tackled the man, wrestling him to the ground and saving Taylor's life.

Days later, Taylor lay in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The hospital had stitched her back together—293 stitches in total—but the emotional wounds were just as raw. She couldn't walk without help now. The attack had left her paralyzed from the waist down, and she couldn't fathom how she would move forward from this. Her music was the only thing that felt like it could save her, but even then, she had to put on a mask for the world. No one could know.

Parker knocked gently on the door, pushing it open. "How are you feeling today, Tay?"

Taylor turned her head slightly, her voice quiet. "I don't know, Parker. I really don't."

Parker sighed, walking over to her side. "We'll get through this. You're the strongest person I know. Don't forget that."

A few weeks later, Tree Paine showed up at Taylor's house, as she did from time to time, to check on her during the pandemic. As Taylor's publicist and close friend, Tree had always been there for her, but recently, Taylor had been distant, hiding behind Zoom calls and short texts. Something wasn't right, and Tree had a nagging feeling she needed to see Taylor face to face.

"Taylor?" Tree called out as she walked inside. "It's me. Are you home?"

No answer.

Tree wandered further into the house, her brow furrowed with concern. It wasn't like Taylor to ignore her calls. Then, as she rounded the corner into the living room, she saw it: a wheelchair by the couch, ramps leading from the doorways, and medical supplies scattered on a side table. Her heart sank.

"What... is this?" Tree whispered, her stomach flipping as she pieced it together.

Taylor appeared in the doorway, her face pale and eyes tired. She gripped the armrest of the wheelchair as she wheeled herself toward Tree.

"Hey," Taylor said softly.

Tree stared at her in disbelief. "Taylor, what the hell is going on? What's with the wheelchair? And these ramps? What happened to you?"

Taylor's expression darkened, and for a moment, she looked like she was about to break. But she held it together, locking her emotions away. "It's nothing. I'm fine."

"Nothing?!" Tree exploded. "Taylor, you're in a wheelchair. You're not fine! You need to tell me what happened."

Taylor shook her head, her voice tight. "I can't."

Tree's eyes widened in frustration. "You can't or you won't? Taylor, you've been hiding things from me for weeks now. What's going on? Why won't you talk to me?"

"I was attacked," Taylor blurted out, her voice breaking. "Someone broke in, and they... they tried to kill me."

Tree's breath caught in her throat. "What?"

Taylor looked away, her voice hollow. "I was working on my music when it happened. They came out of nowhere. Parker saved me, but... the knife cut deep. I needed over 200 stitches, and now I can't walk."

Tree was stunned into silence, her mind reeling. She sat down heavily on the couch, trying to process everything. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone?"

Taylor's eyes filled with tears. "Because I didn't want anyone to know. The last thing I need is for the world to see me like this. To know that I'm... broken."

"You're not broken," Tree said firmly, her voice filled with emotion. "You're not. You're still you, Taylor. You're the strongest person I know."

Taylor wiped at her eyes, shaking her head. "I don't feel strong. I feel like I'm falling apart."

Tree reached out, taking Taylor's hand in hers. "We'll get through this, okay? You don't have to do it alone. I'm here. I've always been here."

As the weeks passed, Tree became more involved in helping Taylor adjust to her new reality. She handled media inquiries with a fierce protectiveness, ensuring that no one found out about the attack or Taylor's condition. Taylor, meanwhile, continued working on Folklore and Evermore, using music as her way to cope. But the physical and emotional toll weighed heavily on her.

One day, as Taylor was getting ready for an online interview, Tree noticed something off. Taylor was unusually quiet, her movements slower than usual.

"You okay, Tay?" Tree asked, watching her carefully.

Taylor forced a smile. "Yeah, just... tired."

Tree wasn't convinced. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. You need to take it easy."

"I can't," Taylor said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If I stop, I'll fall apart."

Tree sighed, sitting down next to her. "You don't have to pretend with me. It's okay to not be okay."

Taylor blinked, her eyes welling up with tears again. "I just... I don't know how to keep going sometimes."

"You keep going the way you always have," Tree said softly. "One step at a time. And when you can't, I'll be here to help you."

Taylor looked at her, gratitude shining through her tears. "Thank you."

Tree smiled, squeezing her hand. "Always."

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