TAYVIS ONE SHOTS

And the Grammy Doesn't go to...

A/N OKAY BUT THE GRAMMY NOMINEES FOR 2025 ARE GIVING LIKE EXCUSE ME WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO PUT ALL MY FAVOURITE POP PRINCESSES ON THERE AND MAKE ME HAVE A FIT - anyways here's a different storyline to if taylor wasn't nominated - but the video of sabrina crying cos she got nominated was so cuteee

Taylor's POV

I felt the buzz of my phone before I even heard it, the screen lighting up like a beacon of doom on the coffee table. I was sitting between Jack and Gigi, both of whom were mid-rant about, well, I don't even know what. I'd zoned out, counting down the minutes to the Grammy announcement, hoping that TTPD, my album, would get some sort of nod. A nomination for anything would do. "Best Album to Cry To" or "Most Likely to Haunt Your Ex's Dreams"—literally anything.

I picked up my phone, took a deep breath, and looked at the notification.

It was from my mother: Baby, don't look at Twitter. Which, of course, only made me look at Twitter.

And there it was—the Grammy nominations. Scanning the list, I felt my face go pale. Best Album of the Year, Best Song, Best Lyrics... my name was conspicuously absent from all of them. Not even Best Packaging for the vinyl cover. It was like watching my soul take a swan dive off a cliff and splat in front of me, except that the cliff was Spotify and the audience was half of America.

I let out a very loud, very unladylike, very undignified groan.

Jack stopped talking and raised his eyebrows. "Everything okay, Tay?"

I dropped my phone onto the couch and exhaled like a deflating balloon. "I didn't get nominated. For anything. Not one single Grammy. Not even in the tortured poets department," I muttered.

Jack, Gigi, and half of the others—Selena, Blake and of course Travis—turned to look at me, their expressions a mix of shock, pity, and bewilderment.

"Are you kidding me?" Selena said, her voice rising. "That album practically invented sad!"

"And half the planet is still quoting your lyrics as they break up with their mediocre boyfriends," Blake added with a smirk.

"Yeah, but apparently, that's not enough," I sighed, flopping onto the couch dramatically. "All that work, and for what? Just to be ignored? It's like... my art has become the equivalent of decorative kale. Looks nice, nobody's actually consuming it."

Travis, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of chips, scooted closer to me, looking concerned but somehow also amused. "I think I have the perfect solution to this," he said. "We riot."

I cracked a smile at that. "With what, confetti cannons? We'll break down the Grammy building's doors, demanding they put 'Taylor Swift' in every category. 'Best Album that Should Have Been Nominated' goes to... me!"

Selena started clapping slowly. "Bravo, Tay. You are winning my heart all over again."

I gave her a mock bow, and Gigi handed me a glass of wine. "Don't worry, Tay. The Grammys have terrible taste half the time anyway. Didn't they give Best New Artist to some dude who quit music two months later to start a shrimp farm?"

"Exactly," Jack chimed in, nodding furiously. "And didn't they nominate my band Best Pop even though we've been rock indie since, like, birth?"

Everyone nodded, and I couldn't help but laugh a little. They were right. Maybe a little perspective would help. Or a lot of wine.

Travis POV'

Taylor doesn't show disappointment much, but I could see it tonight. She'd tried to play it off as a joke, but I could tell she was hurt. So, I did what any reasonable boyfriend would do: I ordered pizza, went on a tirade about the irrelevance of awards, and, with the help of Gigi and Selena, invented a new Grammy category for her.