Tayvis one-shots (3)

Under Pressure (requested)

The stadium buzzed with excitement. Arrowhead Stadium was electric, packed with tens of thousands of fans wearing red and yellow, screaming for the Kansas City Chiefs. Travis Kelce had just made a huge play, sprinting down the field and catching a long pass, much to the roar of the crowd. Taylor Swift, sitting in the VIP section, watched with a proud smile plastered on her face. She had been doing this more often now, showing up at Travis's games, lending her support, even when the attention from the media intensified.

But today, something was different. Taylor wasn't feeling like herself.

The media had been relentless the past few weeks, fueling rumors about her weight, about her image. The constant judgment, the whispers, the flashing cameras—it had taken its toll. Every time she opened her phone, there was another headline, another cruel comment dissecting her appearance. No matter how many years she'd been in the spotlight, no matter how many times she had stood strong against public scrutiny, the weight of it had started to get to her. She hadn't been eating properly, skipping meals out of stress. But she told herself it didn't matter, that she was strong enough to push through.

As the game went on, Taylor started to feel dizzy. The noise of the stadium was getting louder and louder, echoing in her head. She tried to focus on the field, to keep her eyes on Travis, but her vision started to blur. She could feel her heart racing, her breathing becoming shallow. Her body was screaming for help, but she ignored it, too used to ignoring her own needs.

"Are you okay, Miss Swift?" a security guard near her asked, noticing her pale face and the way she was swaying slightly in her seat.

"I'm fine," she muttered, forcing a smile. But she wasn't. She felt her legs give out as the world around her tilted, and before she could react, everything went black.

Travis had just caught another pass, running toward the end zone when he glanced up at the VIP section. His heart skipped a beat when he didn't see Taylor standing there. His gut told him something was wrong. He couldn't focus. His mind raced, thinking back to the last few days when she had seemed quieter than usual, pushing food around her plate without eating much, brushing off his concern with her usual "I'm fine."

As the whistle blew for halftime, Travis sprinted off the field, ripping off his helmet. He ignored the high-fives from his teammates, heading straight to the sideline where one of the team's security members caught his attention.

"Travis!" the man shouted. "Taylor... she collapsed."

His heart dropped. Without a word, he ran toward the locker room where Taylor had been taken. His chest tightened with fear as he rounded the corner, seeing her lying on a bench, surrounded by medics. Her face was pale, her body too still.

"Taylor!" he shouted, pushing through the crowd to get to her.

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. When she saw him, a weak smile spread across her lips. "Hey, baby," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Travis knelt beside her, his large hand gently brushing her hair away from her face. "What happened? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling like this?"

She looked away, her eyes clouded with guilt. "I didn't want to worry you... You've got the game, and the team, and everything..."

"Screw the game," he said firmly. "You're what matters. Not this. Not any of this."

The medics explained that she hadn't eaten properly in days, and her blood sugar had dropped dangerously low. Travis's face hardened as the realization hit him. The media. The constant pressure. The lies they spread. It was breaking her down, and she had been too afraid to tell him.

"Why didn't you say something, Tay?" he asked softly, his voice filled with concern. "I've been noticing it, but you kept brushing it off."

Tears welled up in her eyes, her bottom lip trembling. "Because... because they're right. I look horrible. Everyone keeps saying I've gained weight or that I look tired, and... I don't know, I guess I thought if I stopped eating, maybe I'd fix it."

Travis's heart ached. He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "You're perfect the way you are. You don't need to change for anyone, especially not those people who don't even know you. They don't see what I see."

Her eyes flickered with pain and vulnerability. "It's hard, Trav. It's so hard to block it out."

"I know," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. "But you don't have to do it alone. You don't have to deal with this by yourself. I'm here for you, always."

She clung to him, her body shaking slightly from the emotional and physical exhaustion. He held her tightly, rocking her gently, not caring about the game or the noise outside. All that mattered was her.

"You're enough, Taylor. You're more than enough. I love you, and nothing those people say matters. They don't get to have a say in how you feel about yourself."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm scared, Travis. I feel like I'm losing control."

"You're not. You're just overwhelmed," he assured her, brushing a tear from her cheek. "But we're going to fix this. Together. You don't have to carry this weight on your own."

She nodded, leaning her head against his chest. "Thank you," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," he murmured into her hair. "Because I'm never letting you go. We're going to get through this, okay?"

She nodded, feeling a bit of the weight lift from her shoulders. With Travis by her side, she knew she could face anything—even the relentless pressure of the media. For the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe again.

As they sat there in silence, wrapped in each other's arms, Taylor realized that she didn't have to be perfect. She didn't have to live up to anyone else's expectations. Travis loved her as she was, flaws and all, and that was all that mattered.

And that was enough.