Chapter Text
THEN: college days
The 2009 MTV Video Music Awards should have been a night of celebration. Taylor had just turned 19, wide-eyed and still adjusting to the surreal world of fame. Her song "You Belong with Me" had won Best Female Video—a huge achievement. Dressed in a shimmering silver gown, she clutched her award, breathless with excitement. The stage lights burned bright, the applause ringing in her ears. This was her moment. A moment she had dreamed of, rehearsed in her head a hundred times, a perfect fairytale playing out in real life.
And then, suddenly, it wasn’t.
A shadow moved across the stage. The cheers turned into a collective gasp as Kanye West, sunglasses perched on his face, strode toward her. The microphone was ripped from her hands before she could even process what was happening. Her fingers twitched as if reaching for something intangible, as if trying to hold onto the moment that was slipping away.
"Yo, Taylor, I’m really happy for you, I’mma let you finish, but Beyoncé had one of the best videos of all time! One of the best videos of all time!"
The words hit her like a slap. Stunned, she could do nothing but stand there, clutching the award she no longer felt she had the right to hold. The audience's reaction was mixed—shocked murmurs, awkward laughter, some boos. The moment stretched endlessly, her heart hammering in her chest. Her vision blurred, not from tears, but from the sheer unreality of it. Her dream had morphed into a nightmare in a matter of seconds, and she had no idea how to reclaim it.
Travis Kelce watched the live broadcast from his college dorm room in Cincinnati, fury igniting in his veins. He wasn’t famous yet, just a college football player with dreams of the NFL, but he knew right then that if he’d been there, he would have done something about it. Maybe he would’ve confronted Kanye, pushed him back, told him to sit down and let Taylor have her moment. Maybe he would’ve put an arm around Taylor’s shoulders and led her off stage, away from the chaos, shielding her from the bewildered gazes, the cameras flashing, the whispers that followed. Instead, he had to settle for sending her a text the moment the broadcast ended.
"That was total BS," he wrote. "You were incredible, Tay. You always are. Don’t let him take this away from you. You worked so hard for this, and everyone who matters knows you deserve it. The way you carry yourself, the way you put your heart into everything—it’s why you’re here, why people love you. This is just a bump, not the story. And if I was there, you know I would have made sure you left that stage with your head held high. You’re stronger than this moment. Keep shining, Tay."
For days after, Taylor relived the moment on an endless loop, feeling the weight of it like a stone in her chest. She saw the headlines dissecting her humiliation, watched the replays with a mix of detachment and quiet devastation. People told her she had handled it with grace. But grace hadn’t stopped her from crying in the backseat of the car that night, from wondering if she had really deserved to win at all. The what-ifs swirled in her mind. What if Kanye hadn’t done that? What if she had said something? What if she had walked off the stage instead of standing there, frozen, feeling like a child who had wandered somewhere she wasn’t welcome?
Back then, Taylor and Travis were just best friends, but they were extremely close. He had always been the first to hype her up, to check in on her after performances, to tease her about her cowboy boots but defend her with everything he had when anyone else did. And in the days following the VMAs, he was the one she leaned on most.
"I feel like a joke," she confessed in a late-night phone call, curled under a blanket in her hotel room. "Like no one actually thinks I deserved to win."
"That’s insane, and you know it," Travis said, his voice steady. "You work harder than anyone I know. That award is yours. Don’t let some dude with sunglasses and an ego problem make you forget that."
Taylor sighed. "I just… I feel like maybe I wasn’t ready for all of this. Maybe I don’t belong here."
"You belong exactly where you are," Travis countered. "You’re not just talented, Tay. You’ve got something special, something no one can take away."
Years later, when they found themselves sitting side by side on a couch, the glow from the fireplace flickering against their skin, the world outside felt miles away. "I remember watching that live, you know," Travis said, tracing absentminded circles on her wrist. "I was so mad for you. Like, 'who does this dude think he is?'"
Taylor laughed, a soft sound, but her eyes were distant. "Yeah, it was… a lot. I was just a kid. I didn’t know how to handle it. I wanted to disappear."
Travis nudged her playfully, a soft grin playing on his lips. "Well, if I'd been there, I probably would've gotten kicked out for tackling Kanye on stage."
She smiled at that, shaking her head. "And that’s why I keep you around."
The past had been rewritten in little ways—not in the moments themselves, but in the way they were remembered. She had survived that night alone. But even then, she hadn’t really been alone. She had someone who had always stood beside her, even from miles away, even before they knew what they meant to each other. And somehow, that made all the difference.
And even though they hadn’t known back then where life would take them, even though they were just two kids trying to chase their dreams in different worlds, Travis had always believed in her. And that belief had never wavered. Not back then, and not now.
As the fire crackled beside them, Taylor leaned against him, feeling the warmth of something constant. "You know," she murmured, "I think that moment hurt so much because I thought I was alone in it. But looking back, I wasn’t."
Travis tightened his hold on her. "You never were. And you never will be."
*****
THEN: throughout the years
The VMAs had become a familiar playground for Taylor Swift. Over the years, she had transformed from the wide-eyed teenager clutching her first Moonman into a seasoned performer, a celebrated songwriter, and, perhaps most importantly, the life of every award show she attended. Cameras had learned to track her in the audience, knowing she would deliver golden moments—whether it was singing along to every performance, dancing with infectious joy, or clinking glasses with friends between categories.
She had become a staple of the event, not just as a nominee but as an experience in herself. The energy she brought was infectious. Fans online anticipated her reactions almost as much as they did the performances and winners. Every year, she arrived looking effortlessly glamorous, exuding the confidence of someone who had spent years owning her presence in these rooms.
For Taylor, attending the VMAs was more than just an awards ceremony—it was her version of going to a concert. With how big of an artist she had become, the idea of casually attending a show had long become an impossibility. The VMAs, however, gave her a chance to revel in the live music experience, surrounded by some of the best artists in the world, without the constraints of being the one on stage.
And part of that experience? Getting a little tipsy. Or, sometimes, more than a little.
Taylor had built a reputation for letting loose at award shows, her drink always in hand as she laughed, danced, and hyped up the artists on stage. It had led to some of the most adorable and hilarious viral moments—her swaying a little too enthusiastically during a ballad, enthusiastically toasting the camera after a big win, or cracking up uncontrollably at a joke that wasn’t meant to be that funny. Fans adored it. They lived for Drunk Taylor, for the way she transformed these high-profile, often overly formal nights into something truly joyful.
Tonight was no different. Dressed in a stunning ensemble that shimmered under the flashing lights, she arrived at the venue, greeting old friends and waving at fans in the crowd. This year, she was nominated for multiple awards—an impressive number of them—and there was a feeling in the air that she would be leaving with more than just one Moonman trophy.
From the moment the first performance started, she was on her feet, singing at the top of her lungs, much to the delight of the cameras trained on her. She didn’t just sit and watch—she engaged with the music, whether it was head-bobbing to a rap verse, clapping in time to the beat, or even throwing up her hands in dramatic enthusiasm when a song reached its high point. It wasn’t just about supporting other artists—it was about celebrating the music itself.
During one particularly explosive performance, she was seen mouthing every lyric, her drink held high in approval, completely in sync with the crowd’s energy. A few minutes later, she was pulling one of her friends up to dance with her, unbothered by the sea of cameras capturing every second. Her laughter was audible even over the booming bass, her hair whipping around as she fully immersed herself in the moment.
Meanwhile, Travis Kelce never attended award shows with Taylor. They were both busy with their own careers, living in different worlds, and there was no reason for him to be there. But he always watched. From wherever he was—his home, a hotel room before a game, the team facility—he found a way to tune in. That night was no different.
They had texted earlier in the day. "Win some trophies for me," he had joked, adding a winking emoji.
Throughout the evening, as the show unfolded, he kept an eye on his phone, catching glimpses of Taylor on social media. His feed was flooded with clips of her dancing, singing along, and reacting with her signature enthusiasm. Every few minutes, a new video popped up—a GIF of her throwing her arms in the air, a slow-motion shot of her standing and swaying to a ballad, a candid moment of her cracking up at something off-camera. He could practically hear her laughter just from the images.
Travis couldn’t help but shake his head, grinning at the screen. "You really are the main event, huh?" he texted, attaching a screenshot of a headline that read, 'Taylor Swift: Queen of Award Show Reactions.'
"Always," she replied, adding a smug emoji.
As the night went on, he found himself checking in more often, refreshing his feed between meetings and reviewing plays. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but seeing her in her element—completely unfiltered, unapologetically enjoying herself—was something he genuinely loved. He might not be there physically, but he was watching, just like everyone else.
And she did win. Over the course of the night, Taylor’s name was called again and again. With each win, she walked up to the stage, beaming, graciously accepting her Moonman trophies and delivering heartfelt speeches. Her arms were soon full, a growing stack of awards balanced as she made her way back to her seat, laughing at the absurdity of it. By the end of the night, she had so many that a fellow artist had to help her carry them all backstage.
As the night continued, she found herself in a whirlwind of moments that would be immortalized online. She clinked glasses with friends, leaned over to whisper jokes between categories, threw her head back in laughter when an unexpected winner was announced. Even when the cameras weren’t on her, she was fully present, reveling in the atmosphere.
Her reactions were GIF-worthy, as they always were. Whether she was screaming for an underdog win or dramatically gasping at a surprise announcement, social media had a field day. Fans dissected every little movement, creating instant viral moments. "Taylor Swift is single-handedly carrying the VMAs," one tweet read, racking up thousands of likes.
Somewhere across the country, Travis saw the trending clips before she even had a chance to check her phone. He chuckled at one of her most animated reactions, shaking his head at his screen.
"You're a menace," he texted, attaching one of the memes.
"A joyful menace," she shot back, still high off the energy of the night.
But even as he laughed at her antics, a small part of him always worried. He knew she was surrounded by friends, and she wasn’t exactly the reckless type, but still—drinking, flashing cameras, and endless social media coverage? It was a chaotic mix. More than once, he’d sent a late-night "Get home safe" text, just in case.
Tonight was no different. As the night wore on and her texts became a little more chaotic—filled with extra letters and emojis—he chuckled but made sure to check in.
"Still upright?" he sent.
"BARELY! But thriving!" she replied, followed by a blurry selfie with three Moonmen clutched in her arms and an exaggerated pout.
He shook his head, typing back. "Congrats, superstar. Don’t let them take advantage of your drunk ass."
"Who ME?! NEVER!!!" she responded, clearly having the time of her life.
As the final awards were announced, she sat back, sipping the last of her drink, exhaustion finally setting in. It had been a night of triumph, of music, of moments she’d remember forever. As she finally made her way out, arms full of trophies, she sent Travis a quick photo of her wins stacked in her lap.
"Think I did okay," she teased.
His response came quickly: "Show off. Proud of you, Tay. Always."
She smiled down at her phone, then at the glimmering trophies surrounding her. Another VMAs in the books. Another night of memories made. And she wouldn't have it any other way.
*****
LATER:
The moment had finally come. After years of watching Taylor Swift steal the show at the VMAs from the comfort of his couch, Travis Kelce was finally by her side, experiencing it firsthand.
It wasn’t just any VMAs—it was their first together, their first public appearance at an award show as a couple, and Travis’s first time ever attending. It was something he never would have imagined for himself back in his NFL days, but now? Now it made sense.
Retirement had given him the space to step into new experiences, ones that weren’t dictated by game schedules and practice routines. And if there was ever a way to make a debut at an award show, it was this: walking into the VMAs next to Taylor, the undisputed queen of the event, who had long ago mastered the art of making the night her own.
Dressed in a sleek suit that Taylor had personally approved, he walked hand in hand with her down the carpet, the flashes of cameras nearly blinding. Their first red carpet as a couple was nothing short of a media frenzy. The internet had been speculating about this moment for months, and now that it was finally happening, it was all anyone could talk about. Photographers scrambled to capture every second, fans lost their minds on social media, and within minutes, their arrival was trending worldwide. "Travis and Taylor just broke the internet," one fan tweeted, while another added, "I have never seen a man look more like he belongs next to Taylor Swift." He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to this kind of attention, but with Taylor beside him, it felt natural. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, whispering, "You’re handling this like a pro."
Inside, the energy was electric. Travis had seen clips of these nights before—Taylor laughing, singing, dancing, always the life of the party. But being in the thick of it was a different beast entirely. The music, the flashing lights, the non-stop energy—this was her world, and now, for the first time, he was part of it.
From the second they found their seats, Taylor was in full award-show mode. She was on her feet for nearly every performance, drink in hand, singing along with the same enthusiasm that had made her a viral sensation over the years. And Travis? He couldn’t stop grinning. He had seen her do this before from afar, but experiencing it up close was something else. She wasn’t just attending; she was immersing herself, turning the entire night into her own personal concert experience.
At first, he played it cool, clapping along like most of the audience, but it didn’t take long for Taylor to pull him into her world. When an artist she loved took the stage, she grabbed his arm, giving him a look that left no room for argument.
"Come on, you’re not just gonna sit there, are you?" she teased.
He laughed, shaking his head. "Didn’t plan on it."
And with that, he was on his feet, letting himself be swept up in the music, letting Taylor pull him deeper into the magic of the night.
The cameras caught everything—Taylor laughing as Travis attempted to mimic her dance moves, Travis lifting his drink in a toast when she cheered for a winner, the way they leaned into each other between performances, completely in their own world. It was different, seeing himself in these viral clips, but he was embracing it. This wasn’t about the cameras or the social media reaction—it was about sharing this moment with her.
Social media exploded in real time. "Travis Kelce is officially inducted into the Taylor Swift VMAs experience," one tweet read.
As the night progressed, Travis saw a side of Taylor that he had always loved from afar but now got to experience up close. She was a force of nature—clinking glasses with friends, making everyone around her laugh, completely in her element. And for once, Travis didn’t have to worry about her getting drunk at one of these events. Normally, he would watch from afar, hoping someone was looking out for her, making sure she got home safe. But tonight, he was here. He could be the one to take care of her, to make sure nothing happened, to wrap his arm around her and guide her out when the night was over. That thought settled warmly in his chest—she could let loose and just have fun, because he was there to be her safety net. She didn’t just attend award shows; she transformed them into celebrations.
But the highlight of the night wasn’t just the music or the dancing. It was when Taylor’s name was called—again and again. She won big, and each time she walked to the stage, she turned back to flash him a giddy smile, like she couldn’t believe this was all real.
And Travis was her biggest cheerleader. Standing, clapping, whistling—doing everything short of hoisting her onto his shoulders. The cameras caught him every time, and he didn’t care. If she was winning, he was celebrating right alongside her.
By the end of the night, her arms were full of Moonman trophies, and she plopped down beside him with an exaggerated sigh. "Guess you picked a good year to come with me, huh?"
Travis chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. "Guess so. But let’s be real, you win big every year."
She smirked, leaning into him. "Maybe. But this one’s my favorite so far."
As the final performances wrapped up and the lights dimmed, Taylor laced her fingers through his and sighed contentedly. "So? What’s the verdict? Are award shows your thing now?"
He thought about it for a moment, glancing around at the fading chaos of the night. "I think my thing is wherever you are."
Taylor’s smile widened, her eyes softening as she kissed his cheek. "Good answer, Kelce."
As they left the venue, the air buzzing with the energy of another unforgettable night, Travis took a moment to soak it all in—the flashing lights, the music still humming in the background, and Taylor, glowing beside him with the high of the night.
Yeah, this wasn’t his world. But if it meant being by her side? He could get used to it. And as they stepped into the car waiting to take them home, he made a silent promise to himself—this was just the beginning.