TAYVIS ONE SHOTS

Under Control (pt 2)

A/N Thanks for all the positive feedback on my last chapter and for any requests you've given me they always really help xx

Travis' POV

Nothing could keep me away from the field—not the faint memories of my fall, not the strict doctor's orders, and definitely not the multiple missed practices. Football was who I was, and I was ready to shake off the last few weeks and get back to it. That was my plan, anyway. Only, Taylor had other plans.

I thought I'd be back behind the wheel by now, cruising out to practice just like before. But nope. Taylor had taken "precautions" to a whole new level and insisted on driving me everywhere until my neurologist said I had full control of my seizures. It was only supposed to be temporary—just until I adjusted to my meds and my neurologist cleared me. Easy, right? But Taylor didn't seem to be loosening her grip on the situation anytime soon.

That morning, she walked into the living room, keys dangling from her fingers and a look that said she wasn't going to argue.

"Ready?" she asked, arching an eyebrow when she saw me on the couch.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, grabbing my bag. "But you know I can just drive myself. I mean, I'm basically back to normal."

"Normal?" she repeated, giving me a skeptical smile as we headed to the car. "Travis, you collapsed during practice. We're not taking any chances here."

"It was one time," I protested, slipping into the passenger seat. "And the meds are working now. I've got it all under control."

Her hand was on the steering wheel, but her eyes softened as she looked over at me. "I know you do, but I'd just feel better if I kept driving until we're absolutely sure. Besides, I get a free chauffeur pass out of it," she joked, lightening the mood.

I sighed, knowing she meant well, but it was killing me not to have the freedom to come and go. Still, when Taylor Swift tells you she's driving, you don't put up much of a fight.

Taylor's POV

Getting Travis back to his routine was my priority too. I just needed him to ease back into things the right way, which wasn't exactly his style. He was already itching to jump back in like nothing had happened, but I wasn't going to let him push himself too fast. My nerves were still frayed after watching him seize up on the field, and no amount of "I've got this" was going to convince me until I knew, really knew, he was safe.

Driving him to practice was my way of keeping a close eye on him, and—fine, maybe it was a little controlling—but I didn't care. I had to be sure he was okay. If anything were to happen, I wanted to be there. And yeah, I'd made peace with being overprotective. He was my rock, my person, and he'd been through so much already.

As we pulled into the parking lot, Travis grumbled under his breath, pretending to be annoyed, though I knew he was happy to be here.

"Alright, go have fun," I said, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "But, remember—no going all out. Stick to what the doctor cleared."

"Yes, Mom," he teased, rolling his eyes, but he gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before hopping out of the car. I watched him jog to the field, and even from a distance, I could see the spark in his eyes. I knew he was in his element, and honestly, seeing him so fired up again was worth every precaution.

Travis' POV

Practice started like normal—loud voices, warm-ups, and a ton of pent-up energy waiting to be let loose on the field. For the first half, I followed Taylor's orders. I stayed back, let the other guys take the lead on the heavier drills, and mostly stuck to passing drills. It was good to be out there, even if it wasn't full-speed.

But halfway through, muscle memory kicked in, and before I knew it, I was going all out. It was a jumping drill, the kind of leap that would send anyone else toppling over, but not me. I sprang up, caught the pass mid-air, and before my feet hit the ground, I felt a wave of dizziness. My vision blurred slightly, and I froze for a second, grounding myself, taking slow, deep breaths. But there was no shaking the nagging reminder: You're not 100% yet, man.

When I turned to the sidelines, my heart sank. Taylor was watching, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, like she'd seen right through me.

When practice ended, she was waiting by the car, her expression unreadable.

"You're pushing it," she said, voice even.

"I know," I admitted, trying to shrug it off. "But I'm fine. Really."

She didn't say anything, just handed me a water bottle. And that's when I realised: she was worried. Really worried.

Taylor's POV

The drive home was silent. He was trying to act like everything was fine, like he hadn't just had a close call right there on the field. I didn't want to smother him, but seeing him push himself that hard when he wasn't ready—it scared me. I knew it was killing him to have me drive him around, and I knew he wanted his independence back. But more than anything, I just wanted him safe.

That night, as we were getting ready for bed, I couldn't hold it in anymore.

"Trav, can we just be honest about this?" I said, sitting beside him, brushing my hand along his arm. "You're rushing back. I know you want to be out there, but we both know what happened today wasn't a fluke."

He took a deep breath, staring at the floor. "I just don't want this to change everything," he muttered, voice low. "Football's what I've worked for my whole life. I can't let it all slip away because of this."

I put my hand on his cheek, turning him to face me. "I know. And I'm not saying you should give it up. But I want you to have a future—one where you're healthy, where you're safe. We're in this together, okay?"

He nodded, looking a little defeated but letting out a small smile. "Guess I'll have to keep letting you drive me around, huh?"

I laughed, ruffling his hair. "Yep. Deal with it."

Travis' POV

It took a while, but I finally accepted that Taylor wasn't going to budge on the driving situation. At first, it felt like another thing I couldn't control, but soon I realised it was a way for us to spend more time together—a silver lining in a mess of uncertainty.

We got into a rhythm: Taylor drove me to practice in the mornings, kept a close eye during our drills, and I worked on sticking to the drills that wouldn't throw me off balance or push me too hard. Some of the guys even started calling her "Coach Tay," and the whole thing turned into this inside joke. Andy gave her a whistle, and she leaned into it, blowing it every time I started acting like my old self, going too hard or forgetting to pace myself.

One night, after a particularly easy-going practice, she looked over at me as we got into the car. "So, when do you think you'll be back to driving?"

I laughed. "Honestly? At this rate, I think you might actually like being my chauffeur."

She shrugged, grinning. "Well, it's not the worst job."

On the days when things felt tougher, when the weight of the diagnosis hung a little heavier, she was there, pushing me forward, keeping my spirits up. And yeah, maybe I still had to sit out on some of the things I used to handle without a second thought. But with her by my side, I knew I wasn't going through it alone.

A/N HELP WHAT IS THIS

give me any ideas or feedback if you want xx

i think i might force my little brother to go watch paddington 3 at the cinema with me even tho i'm wayyyy to old for that kind of stuff