TAYVIS ONE SHOTS

went off like sirens just crying

A/N this was a request by Mixadrey1234

ALSO THIS WAS SO SHORT I'M SORRY BUT I'VE BEEN A BIT CAUGHT UP WITH READING SUNRISE ON THE REAPING I READ IT IN TWENTY FOUR HOURS ON A SCHOOL DAY AND ITS JUST SO AMAZING I WAS FREAKING OUT AT THE REFERENCES OF OTHER CHARACTERS LIKE MY HEART

I MIGHT HAVE TO WRITE A TAYVIS ONE SHOT TITLED "I LOVE YOU LIKE ALL FIRE"

IDK WHAT TO CALL THIS SO THE TAYLOR SWIFT LYRICS SEARCH CAME IN HANDY FOR THIS ONE

ALSO I'VE STREAMED BED REST BY CONAN GRAY APPROXIMATELY 123123 TIMES SINCE WEDNESDAY

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Taylor's POV

I try to stay awake, I really do. But I'm absolutely exhausted

Travis texted me an hour ago saying practice was running late. I know how these nights go—he'll come home exhausted, sore, and probably too drained to do much more than collapse into bed beside me. I want to be awake when he gets here, to greet him with a kiss and ask how his day went, but my body has other plans.

The couch is warm, the glow of the TV lulling me into a sleepy haze, and before I know it, my eyes drift shut.

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Travis's POV

The weight of the day is crushing me.

Practice was brutal. Nothing clicked, nothing felt right. The coaches were on us nonstop, and I could feel the frustration boiling under my skin every time I missed a play. It's one thing to have an off day, but today? Today was worse. I could see it in the guys' faces. Hear it in the way the coaches sighed before moving on to the next drill. I let them down.

I let myself down.

By the time I pull into the driveway, I feel like I can't breathe. My fingers grip the steering wheel a little too tightly before I finally force myself to move.

The house is quiet when I step inside. The kind of quiet that tells me Taylor's already asleep.

I should be relieved—she works hard, she deserves to rest—but selfishly, I wish she were awake. I don't want to talk about practice, but I don't want to be alone in my own head either.

I walk into the living room and see her curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her, the soft glow of the TV flickering across her face. She must've tried to wait up for me.

That does something to my chest—makes it feel both warm and tight at the same time.

I don't want to wake her. She looks too peaceful. So instead, I slip into our bedroom as quietly as I can, sitting on the edge of the bed and dropping my head into my hands.

I don't even realise I'm crying until I feel the tears hit my palms.

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Taylor's POV

A sound pulls me from sleep.

It's soft, almost muffled, but something about it stirs me awake. I blink, my brain foggy with sleep, before I realise what I'm hearing.

Travis.

Crying.

My heart clenches, and I'm on my feet before I even think about it.

I find him sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands, his broad shoulders trembling. The sight of him like this—the strongest person I know, the person who carries so much on his back—hurts in a way I can't explain.

"Travis," I whisper, my voice still thick with sleep as I kneel in front of him.

His head snaps up, his eyes glassy. "Shit, Tay, I didn't mean to wake you."

I reach for his hands, pulling them away from his face. "I don't care about that. What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, exhaling a shaky breath. "Practice was awful. I was awful. I don't know, it just—it got to me."

I squeeze his hands. "Come here."

He hesitates for half a second before finally letting himself collapse into me. I wrap my arms around him, running my fingers through his hair as he buries his face in my shoulder. His body is warm, solid, but he's shaking.

I hold him tighter.

"You are not awful," I murmur against his temple. "You're human. You're allowed to have bad days."

He lets out a shaky laugh, though it's more exhale than anything else. "I just hate feeling like I'm not good enough."

I pull back just enough to look at him, cupping his face in my hands. "Listen to me, Travis Kelce. You are more than enough. And one bad practice doesn't change that."

His eyes search mine, like he's trying to find something to hold onto. I press a soft kiss to his forehead, then another to his cheek. "You work so hard. You care so much. And that's why you're great—not just because of what you do on the field, but because of who you are."

He exhales again, slower this time, the tension in his shoulders starting to melt away. "I love you," he whispers.

I smile softly, brushing a tear from his cheek. "I love you too. And I'm always gonna be here to remind you of that."

He tugs me closer until I'm tucked against him, my head resting against his chest. His heartbeat is still a little fast, but it's calming, steadying.

We stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until his breathing evens out and sleep finally claims him.

And I don't let go.