Tayvis one shots

Backstage problems

The final notes of her encore drifted into the night, and Taylor Swift took a deep breath as she gazed out over the sea of fans. The crowd roared, the applause and cheers a thunderous wave that washed over her, filling her with a surge of joy and pride. She smiled wide, blew a kiss to the audience, and gave one last wave before turning to head backstage. It had been an amazing show, and she couldn't wait to celebrate with Travis, who'd been cheering her on from the VIP section all night.

But as she stepped behind the curtains, her adrenaline waned, and exhaustion crept in. The rush of performing had left her energized, but she was ready to unwind and relax. In her eagerness to get offstage, she barely noticed a loose cable lying just behind the curtains. She didn't even see it as her foot caught the edge, sending her tumbling forward with a gasp. She tried to catch herself, but her ankle twisted beneath her, and she landed hard on her knees. Her wrist shot out instinctively to brace her fall, and a sharp, searing pain shot up her arm.

The world tilted as she sat back, wincing at the pain throbbing in her ankle and wrist. A couple of stagehands rushed over, worry etched across their faces.

"Taylor, are you alright?" one of them asked, reaching down to help her up.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she replied quickly, trying to wave them off with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She hated being fussed over and didn't want anyone making a scene on her account. But the pain was making it hard to focus, and she knew she was limping as she tried to stand.

Then, through the backstage hustle and bustle, she saw a familiar figure pushing his way through the crowd—Travis, with his tall frame and unmistakable concerned expression. His eyes locked onto hers, and in an instant, he was at her side, his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.

"Taylor, what happened?" he asked, his voice soft but laced with worry as he looked her over. "Did you fall?"

"Just a little trip," she said, forcing a smile. "I think I'm okay, though."

But Travis saw right through her attempt to downplay it. His gaze moved from her face to her ankle, which was already beginning to swell, and then to her wrist, which she was cradling carefully.

"You're not okay," he murmured, his tone both gentle and firm. "We're getting you out of here."

Without waiting for her protest, he carefully slid one arm around her back and another under her knees, lifting her off the ground in one smooth motion. Taylor yelped in surprise but quickly relaxed into his arms, leaning her head against his shoulder. A wave of relief washed over her, mixed with a warm sense of gratitude.

"Travis, you don't have to carry me," she murmured, half embarrassed and half enchanted by how effortlessly he held her.

"Not a chance I'm letting you walk on that ankle," he said, his voice soft. "Besides, it gives me a chance to be your knight in shining armor."

She chuckled softly, feeling her cheeks warm. "I thought you were a football player, not a knight."

"Hey, I can be both," he said, grinning as he carefully maneuvered through the crowd of concerned crew members, who watched with a mix of relief and amusement.

They made their way out of the venue and into the quiet of the parking lot, where a car was already waiting. Travis gently set her down in the passenger seat, his hands lingering on her shoulders for a moment as he made sure she was comfortable.

"Alright, next stop: home," he said, sliding into the driver's seat. "And once we get there, I'm playing nurse."

Taylor laughed, leaning her head back and closing her eyes as the pain dulled into a steady ache. The warmth of his presence beside her, his unwavering attention, and the lightheartedness he brought to even the most painful moments made her heart swell.

The drive was quiet, but comfortable, Travis occasionally glancing over to check on her. Every time their eyes met, he'd give her a reassuring smile or squeeze her hand, grounding her in his presence. They pulled up to her house, and without a word, he came around to her side, lifting her out of the car as if she weighed nothing.

Once inside, he carried her straight to the living room, carefully setting her down on the couch and propping up her injured ankle on a stack of soft pillows. He fetched a couple of ice packs from the freezer, wrapping one gently around her ankle and carefully placing another on her wrist. Then he draped a cozy blanket over her and knelt beside the couch, his face full of tenderness.

"There," he said softly, tucking the blanket around her. "Now you're officially in good hands."

Taylor smiled, leaning into his touch as he gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. "You're really good at this, you know. Taking care of me."

He chuckled, his hand lingering on her cheek. "Well, you spend enough time on the football field, you learn a thing or two about ice packs and sprained ankles." His gaze softened as he looked into her eyes. "Besides, I kind of like the idea of being the one to take care of you."

Taylor's heart fluttered, and she felt a blush creep into her cheeks. She hadn't expected to feel so warm and safe, but something about his gentle presence and his unwavering care made her feel like she was exactly where she belonged. She reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers.

"You know, this isn't exactly how I pictured tonight ending," she murmured, a teasing smile dancing on her lips. "But... I think I like it even better."

Travis smiled, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. "Me too. I'll take any excuse to have you all to myself." He leaned in and brushed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Now, are you hungry? Thirsty? Name it, and it's yours."

She laughed, feeling her heart swell at the care in his voice. "I could go for some tea," she admitted.

"Tea it is," he said, getting to his feet. "One hot tea, coming right up."

A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming mug of chamomile tea and a bowl of her favorite snacks, setting them down on the coffee table before settling beside her on the couch. She took a sip of tea, savoring the warmth, then leaned against him, feeling utterly content.

As they sat there, wrapped up in blankets and quiet conversation, Travis took her hand, his thumb gently running over her fingers. They spoke in whispers, laughing softly as they recounted memories from her tour, his games, and moments they'd shared. And as the evening wore on, Taylor felt the ache in her ankle and wrist fade into the background, replaced by the comforting warmth of his presence.

Eventually, she started to feel drowsy, her head resting on his shoulder as she closed her eyes. Travis shifted, gently adjusting the blankets around her and brushing a soft kiss to her temple.

"Thank you, Travis," she murmured sleepily, her voice barely above a whisper. "For... everything."

His hand tightened around hers, and he leaned in close, his voice low and tender. "I'll always be here, Tay. No matter what."