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yelena-bellova · 11 months

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Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Five

Chapter Five: Golden Boy

Plot: Zava arrives at Richmond and some of the staff are more thrilled than others…specifically Y/n.

Warnings: f!reader, language, (16+)

Word Count: 4.6k

A/N: This chapter was quick to be cranked out, and Mr. Tartt finally enters the chat.

I’ve gotten a few requests for tags and as with most my fics, I’m only tagging 16+ with ages in bios. Looking out for younger eyes 👀

Hope you enjoy this one!

——————

The moment Zava had uttered the word ‘Richmond,’ Nelson Road was thrown into complete chaos.

Y/n, Keeley and Higgins had been working overtime overseeing plans for the official welcome event. Not only did Zava’s level of fame demand a big deal, but the whole city of Richmond was beside themselves with glee. They had to go all out.

“Okay,” Y/n said, typing out a quick text at Keeley’s desk, “Higgins says the red carpet was just delivered along with the banners.”

“Perfect,” Keeley replied, ticking off a box of the event’s long to-do list, “Did he say anything about ticket sales?”

Y/n and Keeley had been double-teaming the matter of Zava’s recruitment and had been meeting or speaking each morning since the Chelsea match. They were beginning to find their rhythm, passing tasks back and forth with a smooth stream of communication.

“Sold out,” Y/n answered, locking her phone and setting it down with a smile, “And have you been checking Twitter?”

“Oh, I know,” Keeley’s eyes widened, “Richmond’s been trending nearly every day. The power of celebrity!”

It was a PR blessing. Zava’s signing with the Greyhounds had completely blotted out the sewer meme, Nathan Shelley’s hateful comments, West Ham…the world’s eyes were on Richmond in the best possible way.

“Alright, so 10AM for the event’s start,” Y/n ran her pen down her task-list, “I doubt he’ll want to take pictures with fans, but there’s time to. But maybe a group one with the team would be a good idea?”

There was a light knock on Keeley’s door.

“Come in,” she called.

Opening and revealing Keeley’s latest hire, her friend Shandy, Y/n instinctively stiffened a little.

“I just thought of a great idea,” Shandy said with great enthusiasm, “What if we had…Zava dancers? Like they get for sports in the States,” Shandy gestured to Y/n, ”What do you think?”

Y/n and Keeley both wore the same over-exaggerated smile as they listened. Visions of Laker Girls and Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders danced through their minds.

“That’s…” Y/n slowly nodded, glancing over to Keeley, “An idea.”

“It certainly is,” Keeley nodded back before turning to Shandy, “But I don’t think we’ve got time to pull it together.”

Shandy’s shoulders fell in disappointment, “Oh, that’s true,” she pointed between Keeley and Y/n, “But still, save it for another time.”

“Definitely,” both women replied encouragingly, satisfying Shandy enough to head back to her desk.

Spending so much time at the KJPR office had presented Y/n the opportunity to help Keeley get Shandy adjusted to corporate life. It hadn’t taken more than two days for Y/n to realize it was a task that might kill her. She was carrying on as a favor to Keeley.

“Oh,” Keeley reached across and tapped the back of Y/n’s hand, “How’s it going, having Trent around?”

“Well, he’s catching us on a good week,” Y/n sighed as she began to gather her things. She had to get to Nelson Road and help oversee set-up with Higgins. “To be honest, I haven’t seen much of him, or anyone for that matter. It’s just been me and Higgins rushing in and out of each other’s offices. And Dani knocking on my door at least once a day asking if we should be doing more for Zava’s arrival.”

Keeley smiled as Y/n’s sentences ran on, “Oi, remember to breathe.”

Y/n chuckled, she’d been holding her breath since her first day at Richmond. There was no exhalation in sight.

“I’ll breathe,” she replied, opening the door and looking back to her boss, “Once this is over.”

—————————

The next day, Nelson Road Stadium was bustling as soon as there was light in the sky. Come 10AM, the stands were packed with fans, all awaiting the arrival of the newest Greyhound….

Who hadn’t bothered to show up.

“Where the hell is he?” Rebecca hissed as Keeley, Higgins and Y/n all did double time on their phones, “Leslie! We do have a signed contract, don’t we?”

“Of course,” Higgins replied, “We have an e-signature. That’s legally binding,” his confident smile began to waver, “I think. I’ll make a call.”

Higgins went off with his phone while Keeley nudged Rebecca, “His agent hasn’t heard from him, but she’s tracked his phone, which is currently in Mykonos.”

“If he’s changed his mind again,” Rebecca whispered, “I’m going to look like an absolute asshole.”

“Well, there’s been no sightings of him anywhere,” Y/n continued scouring Twitter, “Doesn’t mean he’s not here…” she paused, flipping perspectives, “But it also doesn’t mean he is.”

“Maybe we can try and cheer them up somehow?” Keeley suggested, scanning the pack of bored reporters surrounding them.

Seated in the row behind them, Shandy popped up, “Do you want me to take my shirt off and run across the pitch?”

As Y/n attempted a deep breath, Rebecca smiled knowingly, “You must be Shandy.”

“Shandy’s shadowing Y/n and I for the day,” Keeley answered excitedly, “To get the hang of things, you know?”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Shandy greeted Rebecca, “I’d love to go for a coffee and pick your brain sometime. Like, how tall are you?”

Y/n glanced up from her phone to catch Rebecca’s confused expression, meeting her boss’s eyes and giving a thin-lipped smile.

“Shandy,” Keeley turned to her employee, “Would you go to concessions and start selling merch at half price?”

“Great idea,” Shandy smiled before back tracking the step she’d taken.

“Keep your shirt on,” Keeley directed sweetly.

“Right, of course,” Shandy nodded, patting Rebecca and Y/n on the shoulders, “Bye, babes.”

“She’s a live one,” Rebecca chuckled before checking her watch.

If anything was said after that, Y/n’s ears didn’t register it. All she could hear were the mumbles and murmurs of the reporters surrounding them. Where’s Zava? Is he ever coming? Did he change his mind? Her mind was working overtime trying to figure out how to dig their way out of this, in case he really had ditched them. She couldn’t stand to have another failure heaped on her shoulders.

Ted’s midwestern accent broke through the noise of her head.

“Hey, guys,” he whispered, taking Higgins’ empty seat, “Are we sure that Zava has the right address? I hate to think he’s sittin’ in the middle of Virginia right now waiting for us, you know?”

Higgins came walking back with an answer, “So, I just talked to legal about Zava’s contract. An e-signature is 100% binding. Tiny wrinkle, instead of signing his name, he signed, ‘You’re Welcome.’”

Y/n pursed her lips, “Lovely.”

“Shit,” Rebecca cursed, her nerves growing by the second, “What are we going to do?”

“Hey, look, superstars play by their own rules,” Ted replied, “Back in ‘98, I waited over three hours for Public Enemy to take the stage of this joint called the Cubby Bear. When a man with a giant clock around his neck is that late, it ain’t about time. He’s makin’ a statement.”

As much as it pained Y/n to take anything real away from another one of Ted’s rambling tales, he had a point. How many asshole celebrities made a crowd wait just to get a little extra ego boost?

“Right,” Rebecca slashed her hands through the air, “I’m calling it. We’re going to go upstairs and figure out what we do next,” she looked to Higgins next, “Leslie, I want you to talk to the crowd and tell them…something.”

“Of course, Rebecca,” Higgins replied calmly, “I got this. Back in uni, my deejay name Damage Control.”

“I didn’t know you deejayed,” Keeley commented.

“I didn’t actually, but I had the name ready if I ever started.”

Y/n was beginning to feel as frantic as Rebecca. “This feels like a great story for a later time,” she said, failing to totally hide her annoyance.

“Shit, right,” Rebecca rose from her seat, “Come on, let’s go.”

As Higgins made for the stage, Ted, Rebecca, Y/n and Keeley hurried past the press, trying to give reassuring grins. Nothing was out of the ordinary. This was the plan.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Rebecca huffed once they were safe within the building, “Why does anyone put up with this lunatic?”

“Because as humans, we adapt to accommodate genius,” Keeley answered.

“Genius doesn’t outweigh flightiness,” Y/n replied, walking in step with Ted.

“Who is the greatest actor alive?” Keeley continued, “Or was, before he retired?”

In tandem, Rebecca and Y/n both answered, “Daniel Day-Lewis.”

Ted veered off path, “Tony Curtis. You said alive? Jackie Chan. Wait, you said retired? Daniel Day-Lewis.”

“Exactly,” Keeley led them up the stairwell, pausing outside Rebecca’s office door, “When he gets into character, he stays in character and everyone else adapts to him. Did you know, that when he made Lincoln, he actually texted Sally Field as Abraham Lincoln?”

“Well, that’s ridiculous,” Rebecca dismissed the trivia, “Abraham Lincoln couldn’t text.”

“Exactly,” Ted agreed, “Every time he looked down, his hat would fall off.”

“Hey, listen,” Y/n chuckled, wondering if ADD was somehow formulated, bottled and pumped into the air of Nelson Road Stadium, “The distant sound of booing.”

“Look, this Zava might be a genius,” Rebecca passed Keeley to reach for the doorknob, “But he’s definitely a self-absorbed prick.”

Rebecca threw the door open to reveal the prick himself, seated at her desk as if it were his own.

“Your desk is covered in biscuit crumbs,” Zava stated.

Ted, Keeley and Y/n stood behind their boss, sporting various faces of shock.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rebecca asked, breathless with rage, “We’ve waited two hours for you.”

This did not bother Zava. “Time is a construct,” he shrugged, “Like gender and many of the alphabets.”

“Get out of my chair,” Rebecca demanded, graduating to indignant as she marched towards her desk. She exhaustedly gestured to Ted, “This is your manager.”

“Hey, how you doing?” Ted greeted with his usual cheeriness, “I’m Ted Lasso.”

Zava and his new coach shared a grin with hands extended as they crossed the room. When they met in the middle, Zava slapped his hand to his chest and became gravely serious. Ted awkwardly did the same.

“My leader,” Zava said, “I am an empty vessel filled with gold,” he took hold of Ted’s arm with his free hand, “I am your rock. Mold me.”

Y/n ran the analogy through her head, coming up empty on logic.

Ted gave a low whistle, “Well, hey, if you score goals like you talk, we gonna be just fine, buddy.”

“Right. And this is Keeley Jones and Y/n Y/l/n,” Rebecca said, gesturing to the two women, “They handle all our publicity.”

Keeley was more willing to greet Zava than Y/n, whose steps toward the legendary footballer were justifiably hesitant.

“My queens,” Zava took each of their hands, pressing gentle kisses to both.

“Okay,” Y/n mumbled under her breath and fought the urge to pull away.

“My actions today have made your jobs much more difficult,” he said with, seemingly, genuine sorrow.

“No,” Keeley shook her head, “Don’t worry about it. No such thing as bad press, right?”

“My integrity disallows me to agree with that statement,” Zava replied with a warm smile.

“But there is such a thing as angry fans,” Y/n politely smiled, wondering how long she had to hold the man’s hand. She could hear Rebecca mumbling some curses under her breath as well.

From behind them, Higgins came through the door with Shandy in tow, going on about something related to Zava’s food allergies. They both froze as they registered the sight in front of them.

“You’re here,” Higgins gaped.

Zava nodded, “And you are there.”

“And this is Leslie Higgins,” Rebecca introduced, “Our director of football.”

“Ah,” Zava sighed, placing a hand on each side of Higgins’ face and pressing his forehead to his. He lowered his voice to a whisper, “You are the glue.”

The room stood in confused anticipation.

“Thank you very much,” Higgins replied. Out of the entire group, Ted was the only one still excited.

“I will go see the team now,” Zava announced, slapping Higgins cheek and heading down the stairs.

Rebecca stretched her arms out and yelled, “Do you even know where you’re going?”

“I do not,” Zava called back, yet kept walking.

Ted, Higgins, Shandy and Keeley looked back to Rebecca, Zava’s mere presence rendering them all speechless. Y/n was the only one matching Rebecca’s frown.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Ted muttered, “Wowie zowie. You know what, maybe I oughta tag along in case he gets nervous. Seems like he can be a little bit of a wallflower.”

“Great,” Rebecca’s hands slapped against her sides, “And now I’m in a rush. Leslie, tell me, how did the damage control go?”

“Oh, it was a mess,” Shandy answered for the man, “But he was adorable.”

“Oh, thank you,” Higgins nodded, looking back to Rebecca and pointing behind him, “Who is this?”

Keeley came to stand at Shandy’s side, “This is Shandy, we work together. And she’s a great friend of mine.”

“Ah,” Higgins smiled knowingly, all the pieces falling together suddenly.

“Right, I’m off,” Rebecca said, gathering her purse and crossing the room. She paused at Y/n’s side, “If you can try and get His Mightiness to pose for a few pictures on the pitch, it would be appreciated.”

Y/n sighed, “No promises.”

Rebecca left on her unknown mission, Shandy and Keeley went on their way back to the KJPR office and Higgins went to oversee teardown. Y/n went back to the pitch, where the fans were packing it in and the reporters had all but left. She found the staff photographer and asked him to head to the practice pitch while she went and collected Zava.

Y/n knocked on the coach’s office and entered, pausing beside Trent Crimm in the adjoining room, “Can I borrow Zava for a few minutes?”

“Just missed him,” Roy replied.

“For the day?” Y/n raised an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Coach Beard nodded, him, Roy and Ted staring at something on their whiteboard.

“He just walked in here,” Y/n gestured from the door through the office, “Said his ‘hellos’ and’s just…done?”

“Seems that way, yeah,” Ted replied, somewhere between a smile and a straight line.

Y/n could only imagine what her face looked like, how her frayed nerves and barely concealed frustration were becoming more obvious by the second. She looked to Trent Crimm, silently begging him to tell her she wasn’t the only one who disapproved of the star footballer’s behavior. Trent replied with a reserved shrug and a stretch of his lips.

“Beautiful,” Y/n smiled as best she could, “If anyone needs me,” she turned on her heel and walked back out the door, “My head will be embedded in the drywall.”

—————————

It was a few days later and the media frenzy still hadn’t died down around both Zava’s arrival and his lack of public appearance. Y/n was fielding call after call from publications, requesting one-on-one interviews with the legend or asking when his first presser would take place or asking if the reason he didn’t show up was because he was having doubts about joining Richmond…

Better yet, Zava didn’t feel it necessary to speak to anyone.

He had, however, taken over the locker room. Four lockers had been reserved just for him plus a recliner. He’d gotten the boys to do group meditation each morning. He had the whole team eating out of the palm of his hand and to be honest, Y/n couldn’t understand why.

Thus, with Zava occupied, the focus shifted to the other Greyhounds. Keeley and Shandy had arrived to discuss interviews with some of the other players. Y/n had calls scheduled all afternoon, mostly about Zava, but also regarding a few potential endorsement deals for the boys. She was thankful for the solitude and her cheeks were pleased not to fake a smile around Shandy for the afternoon.

“Oh,” she said as she clocked Roy Kent passing her office, “Coach Kent.”

Roy reversed course and paused in her doorway, “Yeah?”

“Would you mind checking in with the guys downstairs? Keeley’s with them now,” Y/n asked, unable to leave her desk, “I would, but,” she gestured to her open laptop, a horde of new emails having just been delivered.

“Fine,” Roy replied, deadpan as ever before pausing, “You said Keeley’s with them?”

Y/n took stock of his expression, though it was nearly impossible to find whatever emotion he was actually feeling. She hadn’t seen the man smile once since she’d been at Richmond.

“Mm-hm,” she nodded.

He stayed silent, perhaps mentally preparing himself for the interaction, before nodding to Y/n once more.

“Uh, Roy,” Y/n called him back once more, fiddling with her pen, “Zava…he’s…worth it, right?”

Roy’s brows furrowed deeper, “What do you mean?”

“The fifteen calls I’ve been on today,” Y/n expanded, “The welcome event we had to cancel. The inevitable comments we’re going to have to walk back,” she paused, “He’s worth it?”

“Fuck yeah,” Roy shrugged, “Absolutely.”

While the two of them were barely acquainted, Y/n trusted Roy’s opinion. He knew football better than anyone else in the building. If he thought the headache was a worthy price to pay for victory, she’d learn to tolerate whatever chaos Zava caused.

—————————

Finally, the day of Richmond’s much anticipated match came around.

Upon arrival, Y/n made a point of confirming that His Majesty was actually on the premises, to which she was told he was in the locker room.

“Afternoon, all,” she greeted Rebecca, Higgins and Keeley as she slid into her seat.

“He is here, correct?” Rebecca asked, already a step ahead.

“There has been a sighting,” Y/n replied, a hint of a tired smile playing at her lips, “It’s packed. Did we sell out?”

“Just about,” Higgins answered excitedly, “I can barely feel my hands.”

Y/n settled next to Rebecca just as the first half kicked off. She clocked Zava in the middle of the field, in conversation with Jamie, before the two separated. Jamie kicked the ball to Zava, unremarkably, and Zava slammed his foot against it, sending it soaring across the field and into the goal.

The first fifteen seconds of the match and the crowd was already on their feet, deafening screams filling the stadium.

As Y/n celebrated with Rebecca, Higgins and Keeley, she thought back to Roy’s words earlier in the week.

“Alright,” she mumbled to herself, “Worth it.”

—————————

What Zava brought to Richmond wasn’t just talent, it was magic.

With each match they won, their standings in the Premier League went up and up. The entire city was buzzing, thrumming, with excitement every weekend they Greyhounds were on the pitch.

Not only that, but Y/n was getting more and more invested in the game herself. She paid closer attention to the players, predicting possible moves before they made them, and jumping to her feet when they scored. The inkling of pride she’d felt at the Chelsea match was beginning to bloom, and she found herself starting looking forward to spending weekends in the owner’s box with Rebecca, Higgins and Keeley.

It was the win against Brentford that cemented their six-game win streak, leaving the entire team, on and off the pitch, ecstatic.

After the match, Y/n slipped into her office, grabbing her laptop to take home and return a few emails.

“Oh, Y/n,” a voice called down the hall. Y/n looked up and saw it belonged to Sam.

“Hey,” she greeted, “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” he grinned, “Listen, tomorrow night, I’ve invited everyone to the restaurant for a little preview. I would really love it if you could come.”

Y/n had successfully dodged every post-match invitation the boys had thrown at her. Be it not feeling well or extra work or a call from back home she had to take from some relative…her excuses had run dry. More importantly, she felt like a terrible person each time she had to leave Sam, almost always the inviter, disappointed.

If everyone was invited, it was more or less a work get-together. It wasn’t like it was just friends or a one-on-one hang.

“Sure,” Y/n conceded, “Sounds great.”

Sam’s smile broadened with the answer, making his hands into victorious fists. “I’ll send you the address.”

“Can’t wait,” Y/n replied, lying just one more time.

—————————

The next night, Ola’s was filled for the very first time.

All of the Greyhounds, the coaches and a few plus-ones were seated and partaking in the Nigerian cuisine Sam had ushered into Richmond. The setting was laid-back, but everyone was still riding the high of their win against Brentford.

Y/n had mostly stuck with Rebecca and Keeley at the bar, eventually bouncing around to a few of the players. While she was still reserved, the team and her had gotten to know each other more over the past six weeks.

“Sam,” Y/n finally caught the arm of the restauranteur, “This is incredible.”

“Oh, thank you,” Sam pressed his palm to his heart, “I’m so glad you are enjoying yourself,” he leaned in and lowered his voice, “To be honest, I was a little nervous what you all might think.”

Y/n waved off his concern, a glass of wine in her other hand, “It’s a smash. Be proud of yourself.”

“Thank you,” Sam smiled once more before leaving to go and check on another order.

Y/n paused and took stock of her surroundings, watching the cheerful conversations around her. Her gaze fell on a table in the corner of the second room, where Jamie was sitting by himself, looking particularly unhappy. Curiosity got the better of her and she made her way over.

Jamie looked up as Y/n approached. She didn’t say anything, so he decided to. “What’s that face?”

Y/n’s eyebrows remained scrunched, “I’m just trying to figure out why you’re pouting when you’re on a six-game streak.”

“I’m not-“ Jamie caught himself, he knew he wasn’t exactly being subtle. Shaking his head, he looked back down at his untouched plate, “It’s nothing.”

A loud laugh bounced off the walls, drawing Y/n’s attention down the line of tables to see it belonged to Zava. She didn’t miss how Jamie’s frown intensified at the sound.

“Let me guess,” she sighed, settling on the edge of the booth, “You’re not a member of the fan club.”

Jamie didn’t answer, glumly fidgeting with one of his rings instead. Y/n recalled that during one of their last games, Zava had stolen a goal from him. Jamie had yet to score a single one so far in the season.

“If it’s any consolation,” Y/n swirled the wine in her glass, “I can’t say I’m president of it either.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow at her, his interest peaked, “Yeah?”

“Aside from the fact that he’s made my job a thousand times harder,” Y/n complained, “I guess I just don’t…get him? I’ve caught the tail end of some of his locker room motivational speeches. It’s like he knows where he’s going the first few seconds and then takes his hands off the wheel for the last five.”

Jamie laughed, the first time he’s smiled all night. “You didn’t catch the one yesterday. Car went off a fuckin’ cliff.”

Y/n chuckled, covering her mouth to dampen the sound. “It’s like he loves to hear himself talk but doesn’t actually listen to anything he says…” Y/n grasped the air and twisted it, “But also believes he’s a prophet?”

Jamie shook his head with a smirk, thankful someone else could see what he saw.

“Still,” Y/n shrugged, her eyes scanning the Greyhounds around them, “He’s taking you guys to the top. That’s gotta feel good.”

Jamie’s smile straightened back out and he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip.

“Well, I’m sorry,” Y/n chuckled lightly, “Number 4’s a pretty big improvement from 20.”

“Yeah, but look how he’s doing it,” Jamie complained, “Stealing goals, prancing ‘round the field like some show pony-“

Y/n snorted into her glass, thankful she had yet to take a sip.

“What?” Jamie asked.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n smiled, really trying not to laugh, “It’s just when I started the job, I decided to look up some Youtube videos of the team. And I’m remembering this one hotshot player who never passed the ball to his teammates and did all these ridiculous things like rip his shirt off whenever he made a goal or chant his own name with the crowd…”

Jamie stiffened, he hadn’t expected the callback to his past.

“Whatever,” Jamie brushed it off, “Point is, things were fine without him and-“

“And I don’t think anyone’s less of a Jamie Tartt-head just because Zava Fever’s going around,” Y/n finished for him. She’d watched Jamie play for weeks now, she knew how talented he was. The infatuation with Zava would pass, but Jamie could build a legacy that lasted.

Jamie’s eyes, somewhat lost, tracked upwards to meet Y/n’s. One look told him that she truly meant what she said.

“Thanks,” Jamie nodded.

Y/n nodded, she hadn’t intended to have such an involved conversation, but Jamie was a neutral party. She didn’t feel one way or the other about him. Plus, he was the only other person who could admit to Zava having flaws.

“But just so we’re clear,” Jamie leaned over slightly, lowering his voice, “Still a prick.”

“Oh,” Y/n’s brow creased, “Definitely.”

They shared another hushed laugh.

“Hey, guys,” Shandy came out from around the corner and greeted them.

Jamie and Y/n both welcomed her, but after seven weeks working side by side with Shandy, Y/n was running out of enthusiasm to muster up.

“So, Jamie,” Shandy leaned against the corner wall, “Wanted to see if I could recruit you for this little Bantr campaign we’re running.”

Y/n recalled Keeley mentioning the commercial her and Shandy would be shooting that week. Some of the Greyhounds would be featured anonymously to try and entice people to sign up.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Y/n politely smiled, finishing the last of her wine and leaving the glass, “Have a good night.”

“See ya,” Jamie nodded, shooting her a smile before returning to the conversation with Shandy.

Y/n made the rounds saying goodbye before heading out, stepping out onto the London street corner. There was enough nightlife around that she wouldn’t have trouble catching a cab.

“Hey, Y/n.”

She turned to see Ted standing a few feet away from her. “Hi,” she replied, they had hardly interacted all night, “Are you waiting for a cab?”

“Oh, no,” Ted shifted awkwardly, pointing back to the restaurant, “I’m, uh, waitin’ on someone.”

Y/n understood, unwilling to dig any deeper into the statement, “Got it.”

“Yeah,” Ted mumbled under his breath before perking back up, “You have a good time?”

“Yeah,” Y/n nodded.

“Good,” Ted smiled, “It’s good to see you gettin’ out of the office, hangin’ out with everybody.”

“Well, I mean,” Y/n chuckled awkwardly, “I think Sam just invited me because he had to. It’s not like it was a personal thing.”

Over the last few weeks, Ted had gotten to observe Y/n quite a bit. She stayed in her office as much as possible, she always took lunch on her own and the only thing she wanted to contribute to the conversation was small talk. She was removed and she wanted it to stay that way.

Ted knew there was a reason, though he wasn’t going to push to unearth it. But for Y/n to come out after hours with the team, to smile and laugh and let herself have a good time, it meant something. Even if she couldn’t see it.

“Okay,” Ted nodded, letting her think whatever she needed to think, “Well, do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, no,” Y/n replied, spotting a cab coming down the road and flagging it down, “I’m good. I’ll see you later.”

Ted smiled, sticking up a hand and waving as she climbed into the cab. If Y/n wanted to keep herself closed off from the Greyhounds, that was fine.

They could wait her out.

————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sabelcities

#ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso imagine #jamie tartt x reader #keeley jones x reader #rebecca welton x reader #ted lasso x reader #heartfirst

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its-time-to-write · 9 months

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Hi y’all! This is my last unprompted angsty fic for a little! Gonna go back to our usually scheduled hijinks that are sitting in my request pile, I wanted to do this one first. I write all these as a way to deal with things that happen in my own life, whether it’s stressing about school and work, stupid romance, great romance, family, health, whatever, and I wanted to say (yet again) thank you for all the support. Sometimes I still can’t believe that you all like what I write but hey, there ya go

It’s funny, because my most popular fics are the ones that have been written directly out of my actual life. The ones that start out hard-to-deal-with, or with real, palpable heartbreak. The endings are often different because real life isn’t guaranteed a happy ending, but I’m allowed to take the past and see what it would be like if things went differently.

My characterization of Jamie is based on the only person I’ve ever really loved, which is why I can write his voice so clearly. I first watched Ted Lasso and was surprised at how similar they were, stupid hair and all. A lot of these fics are my way of archiving our story and immortalizing parts of it, as well as reminding myself that the love was there. It didn’t last and it wasn’t supposed to, but it was there.

Now, what’s real and what’s fiction? I’ll leave that up to you to decide, but I will say that it’s more than you might think and less than you might hope for.

So if you read this current fic and think, “huh, that was a really specific premise,” well I got news for you! It is. I’m in the first part of my journey on this, the early stages, and this story is not the way I want things to go for me. But I’m hoping that by creating a good ending out of a rough beginning, I can better face whatever lies ahead for me whether I approach it on my own two feet or with the assistance of some really sick wheels.

Anyway, enjoy this or skip it, it won’t hurt my feelings!

how to love being alive

Jamie’s at training when he gets the call. He barely registers the words on the other side when he’s cursing something awful, enough to make Roy Kent blush, and saying something about an emergency before speeding out the door. He pauses for a moment to look up an address in his phone, then he’s tearing out of the parking lot in a manner that puts Colin to shame.

To summarize, he’s not acting like himself.

He pulls up to a chiropractor of all places and the girl at the front desk must be able to tell who he’s here for because she just points to a door down the hall. Jamie’s pretty sure he’s never moved this quick in his life and wonders if this could translate to the pitch. Sure he’s fast, but he could always be faster.

He bursts through the door to see you borderline catatonic, staring at the floor while a doctor pats your arm. She looks at Jamie and says, “Let’s chat for a minute outside,” before he has a chance to say a single thing. Jamie can’t tear his eyes away from you as the doctor leads him out and shuts the door.

“Thought emergency contacts were for like, hospitals and shit,” he says.

The chiropractor shakes her head. Jamie notes that her name tag says “Dr. Hadley,” and has a vague memory of you mentioning her a few months ago.

God, it feels like a lifetime ago.

“We’re not confident she’s in a fit state to get herself home,” Dr. Hadley says. “Her headspace is a little messed up, which is to be expected. Usually people come to these types of appointments with some moral support.”

Jamie asks, “What kinds of appointments?” and Dr. Hadley tilts her head at him.

“You are Mr. Tartt, aren’t you?” she asks and Jamie just scoffs because he can’t decide between responding obviously, or telling her no, he’s not Mr. Tartt, that’s his father. He’s just Jamie.

Dr. Hadley knows who he is because she doesn’t live in a hole in the ground, so she doesn’t ask for identification. She takes his scoff as permission to keep talking, so she says, “She’s here for her MRI results. We’ve been in the process of treating a protrusion on her spine.”

Jamie is positive everyone in this office must think he’s on drugs because Dr. Hadley is talking like he’s supposed to know this, but for the life of him he knows you’d never said a thing.

“Your girlfriend has been in a severe amount of pain over the last few months, and we’ve finally been able to see the extent of the problem. Apparently she thought it would just go away, but it never did. So now she’s here with us.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Jamie says automatically. Because it’s true, innit? You’re not. You’ve been broken up for a month because he couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t take the irritation at attending his matches and the tossing and turning in bed at night and the fact that you were wound so tight that you’d snap at the most minor offenses.

You hadn’t been surprised when Jamie said he couldn’t do it anymore, it’s over, and at the time he had wished that you’d shown just a tiny sliver of emotion. After all, a year and two months is a long time to be with someone for you to coldly slide him his key and then turn away as though he were a stranger.

He could have sworn there was a glimmer of tears in your eyes, but they’d looked that way for a bit now so maybe it was just allergies. There’s no reason for you to have been in the verge of tears for the entire month before the breakup, right?

Right.

But he can’t think about that now because Dr. Hadley is frowning at him in a way that so comically reminds him of Roy’s sister that he has to bite back a laugh.

Everything’s all twisted.

“I certainly hope your split was amicable,” Dr. Hadley says. “You’re the only one listed as her emergency contact. She needs someone to get her home safely.”

“Right,” says Jamie. “Yes. Fuck. Right. Um, what exactly is wrong with her?”

Dr. Hadley shakes her head. “That’s her personal information to share with you at her prerogative. And we should probably go see her, I’m sure she doesn’t want to be alone for long.”

Jamie snorts at that. This doctor doesn’t know you at all. If you’ve received any type of bad news the last thing you want is people hanging around.

Jamie used to pride himself on being the only one you’d let into the bad-new bubble.

You don’t count with those other people, you’d said once while wrapped around Jamie so tight he thought he’d have to call Ted to bring a crowbar. You said, I don’t have to pretend around you. I don’t ever get tired of you.

Jamie bitterly thinks that that statement turned out to be a lie, but he shakes it off because you’ve only been separated a month, and apparently he’s still your emergency contact for a doctor he didn’t know you had been seeing and fuck if you didn’t look like the most pitiful thing he’d ever seen. He’ll pretend it’s ok for as long as it takes to get you home and comfortable, and then he’s calling this office to get his number switched off.

So he follows Dr. Hadley back into the room as she softly says your name in order to break whatever trance has you studying the carpet like your final exam is in ten minutes.

You can barely look at her as she whispers something about going home and being gentle, to which you nod and finally look at Jamie.

He wonders if you recognize him, because the stare you have is so vacant that you might as well be looking at a stranger.

“Is she on drugs?” he asks because it looks like you’re on drugs.

Dr. Hadley shakes her head and holds out her arm to help you up. “No, she’s just in a lot of pain. And emotional distress. It’s a killer combo, and she’ll need extra gentle handling for a while. No sitting for too long, no bending, no lifting. There’s a back support at the front desk for you to take.”

Jamie thinks he hears something pointed in the way Dr. Hadley says, extra gentle. What, like he doesn’t know how bad an injury can take you out? He’s in the Premier League for fuck’s sake. He knows how to deal with a strained muscle.

Dr. Hadley transfers your arm over to Jamie’s so smoothly that he barely understands what’s happening as she ushers you both out the door, thrusting a small foam roll into Jamie’s free hand.

“For lumbar support,” she says. “Won’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.”

Jamie’s pretty sure he’s said thanks as you climb in the car and then he’s in the drivers seat and it’s dead quiet.

“Right,” he says to the silence. “What the fuck.”

You’re picking at your nails something fierce. Jamie has to fight the urge to take your hand in his. A month of separation is not long enough for this shit.

“Can you just drive?” you ask in a broken voice. “I don’t want to be sitting for longer than I have to.”

There’s a new pitch in your voice, one Jamie’s never heard before, so he doesn’t argue. He doesn’t turn on the radio or a playlist or a podcast or anything, just drives in silence. He knows if it’s quiet long enough, you’ll talk.

He’s the opposite. He doesn’t need time to crack wide open, just a kind touch or a soft glance and he’s an open book. He was always shocked how early into your relationship you’d figured that out. A soft, “What’s on your mind, Jaim?” and he was unloading about whatever stress or fear he had.

He’s two minutes away from your flat when you break the silence. “I have gradual onset paralysis,” you say in a voice devoid of emotion. “‘Gradual onset’ means it happens over time. Paralysis means, well…paralysis.”

Jamie can hear what you’re saying and he understands it, but what catches him is the way you’re like nothing more than a hollow body. Not cracking a joke, not picking a fight. Just- empty.

Jamie says a long and drawn out “Fuuuckk,” because what else can you say? It’s not really his business to comfort you or to pry, except he’s the one the doctor called, so he allows himself one question.

“How did it happen?”

Last he knew, you were healthy as a horse.

“Two disks in my spine popped,” you reply, still in that same awful emotionless voice. “They’re not really sure how, could’ve been any number of things. Anyway, it got into my nerves. And my spinal cord. And it’s messing things up and it’s only going to get worse. The scans were to see if they could operate, because sometimes you can remove the shards. Or whatever it is. But I guess they can’t, because if they tried I’d definitely be paralyzed. So all I can do now is be in pain and wait for my legs to shut down.”

Jamie doesn’t know how to respond to any of that but he’s saved from thinking of an adequate response because he’s at your flat.

It was smart of you not to sell it when you’d moved in with Jamie. He wonders if you knew the breakup was inevitable.

He hops out and opens the door like a gentleman, offering his hand like he’s some Mr. Darcy-type shit, except you had both agreed that Roy was Mr. Darcy and he was Bingley. So it doesn’t fit at all except as soon as you’re done clutching his hand so you can get out without unnecessary pain, his hand flexes itself like he’s in that damn movie.

It wasn’t even a conscious choice, just a thing his hand decided to do, and he definitely thinks he’s going to have to talk to Ted about this. Or maybe Sam. Sam knows shit and is good at empathy. Maybe he’ll know what to say when your ex-girlfriend tells you she’s not going to walk ever again.

Jamie follows you to the door as you fiddle with the lock and push it open with a sigh. For a moment he doesn’t know if he should go inside, but it smells like honey and cinnamon because it’s the beginning of fall and he thinks that he should at least make sure you’ll be alright.

He notices you’re moving weird. All stiff, like. You’re trying to get an icepack out of the freezer but you can’t maneuver in a way that’s comfortable so Jamie grabs it and hands it to you.

You mumble, “Thanks,” and Jamie catches a glimpse of the perpetual glimmer in your eye.

“D’you need me to call someone?” he asks. “I can get Keeley down here. Or fucking… Ted. Or Colin.” He doesn’t say Sam, because he needs Sam. He can’t talk to Sam if he’s here with you.

You shake your head. Jamie wonders if it hurts to talk, but he remembers how much you hate the sound of your voice when you’re crying.

You take a slow, shallow breath to collect yourself. “I’m ok,” you finally say. “Not much anyone can do, and you’ve got training. I- I didn’t know they’d call you. I still have to switch your number with someone else. I’m probably going to ask Keeley since my family’s still far away.”

“Right,” Jamie says. Not much else to say. Except-

“You were seeing that bone doctor when we were together, and you didn’t fucking say anything?”

It’s accusatory and he knows it, but he can’t for the life of him say it kinder. Ted’s always on about communication and shit, and that is not communication.

You shuffle over to the couch and use it to help you lay face down in the floor. The icepack is precariously balanced on the small of your back.

“Didn’t know how to tell you,” comes your muffled voice. “Least, I figured out how to tell you too late. What was I gonna say, ‘Sorry I’ve been a complete bitch to you for four weeks, I’ve got shit floating around in my spine that makes me hurt so bad I want to die?’ Sounds fucking stupid.”

Jamie wants to say, Swear jar because it’s a long-standing joke, but he catches the words right before they reach the tip of his tongue.

“You could’ve said something,” he replies instead. “Chronic pain’s shit. It’s really shit and it makes you act like shit to the people you care about. It’s not an excuse, but it’s a reason.” As the words are coming out of his mouth, Jamie is reminded of a time when the roles were reversed, and you were giving him the “excuse versus reason,” speech.

You’d said, You’re dad’s an abusive prick, Jamie. Makes sense that you’d have a lot of negative emotions.

Fuck, if only you’d said something sooner. Maybe this would be something that you’d be cracking jokes about, or Jamie would be holding your hand, or he’d be laying right next to you as he runs his fingers through your hair.

But your muscles spasm so that thought gets banished as you bite on your forearm in an effort not to yell.

“Fucking hell,” Jamie says. “I don’t think you’re sorted on your own. I’m calling Ted.”

He walks to the other room so he can pretend he can’t hear your protests.

—

Ted leaves training to Roy, Beard, and Nate. What’s the point in having four coaches if one of ‘em can’t leave for family emergencies?

Sure, you’re not actually family, but that’s Ted for you. He doesn’t do casual friendships.

Jamie is out the door like a shot as soon as Ted knocks with a “Sorry, coach,” that Ted barely has a chance to wave off.

Ted doesn’t say much once he’s inside, just rambles on about training and Kansas and Henry. He’s clattering around in your kitchen and you can’t find it in yourself to care what he’s doing so you just keep laying on the floor, willing your back to stop hurting.

Finally, he comes over and sets down a smoothie in a short glass with a straw.

“It’s so you can drink it without moving,” he explains.

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say more to the couch legs than to Ted.

He sighs from where he’s crouched down next to you. “You don’t really have a choice, darlin’. You have to do this. The question is, are you gonna go through it alone?”

You shrug as best as you’re able.

“Wrong answer,” says Ted, standing up. “You’ve got a whole crew of people here who are gonna root for you and support you with whatever you need. All you got to do is ask, sweetheart.”

Ah, fuck, you’re crying again and Ted can definitely tell because your shoulders are shaking. He’s pretty sure you’d want to save face so he stands up and says, “Beard’s coming over after training. Says he wants to figure out how to modify your house for a wheelchair or something. Thought I’d make us all dinner so we’re not so hangry when he mentions taking an ax to anything.”

The mental image of Coach Beard chopping down your stairs is enough to make you smile a little through your tears.

—

Waiting is really shitty. Like, really shitty. Every day is the same thing: tingly legs, shooting pains, phantom cramps. The worst was when Dani and Richard were over and you stood up to get something from the fridge, and your legs decided at that moment to lose feeling. You panicked with your arms held out for balance as you swayed back and forth for a moment, willing your feet to fucking move. They did, but not before Dani and Richard were on you in a flash, ready to catch you if you fell.

“Well that was weird,” you joke in an effort to cut the tension. They laugh, but you still catch their worried glance.

“You do not have to put on a brave face for us,” Dani says. “If you want to joke, we will joke. But if you want to cry, we will cry too.”

“You can cry,” Richard says, “I will just pour more wine.”

You laugh. There’s been a steady stream of Greyhounds at your flat for the last week and a half. Everyone and their mother (quite literally) has come by to see you. Your own parents were coming in a week to stay indefinitely while you sorted things out.

You wonder if it’s easier to lose control of your legs slowly or all at once? On the one hand, you at least have notice. But on the other hand, the long, drawn-out waiting feels like slow torture. Every day you wake up from restless sleep and experimentally wiggle your toes. Every day, you check off one more box on your mental calendar as you count down to a date that doesn’t even properly exist.

The only person who hasn’t visited is Jamie. You don’t blame him, though. Keeley’s come round almost every single day and has been successfully switched to your emergency contact. She’s the one you’re calling as soon as you discover you can’t move.

You’re pretty sure it’s getting closer. Your legs fall asleep more frequently and things are all numb. It’s like you know you’re in pain, but it’s not quite registering with your nerves.

It fucking sucks.

—

You don’t believe in intuition like spirits and all that, but you believe in it in that your brain can pick up things that you couldn’t if you were actually trying.

That’s why you’re pretty sure this is it.

Walking is pretty much a no-go right now, so you stiff-leg yourself to the couch and sprawl out as comfortably as you can.

You call Keeley, and she’s over in no time.

“Hi babes,” she says as soon as she’s through the door, “Can I call Rebecca for girls’s night?”

“Sure,” you say, “Might as well live it up.”

Keeley replies, “Great! She’ll be here in ten minutes,” and you laugh, really actually laugh, because of course Keeley’s already called her.

Rebecca swoops in all smiles and no sympathy which is great because if one more person pushes their lower lip out at you, you’re going to scream. She’s brought drinks and Keeley’s pulling out snacks and you’re going to talk and giggle until you fall asleep, ready for what the morning has.

“Is Shandy making a move on that one player?” Rebecca asks Keeley from the couch.

“Nah,” Keeley calls back, “He said he wasn’t interested right now. Still hung up, I think.”

“What player?” you ask. You know what Shandy’s like, and you feel for the poor guy.

Rebecca and Keeley are silent before Keeley says, “You wouldn’t know him.”

“Bullshit,” you reply. “I know everyone on that team and I know you haven’t signed anyone new recently. Is it Colin?”

Rebecca shakes her head and gives Keeley a look. Keeley shrugs. “You’re the one who brought it up, babes.”

Rebecca turns to you. “It’s Jamie,” she says. “She’s been trying to bag him ever since Zava showed up.”

You shake your head. “She’s not right for him. He deserves someone better than that.”

Keeley’s back from the kitchen and scrutinizing your expression. “And what exactly do you mean by better?” she asks.

You laugh. “Oh no, not me. I wasn’t talking about me. No, I’m not- he needs someone different. Like, I don’t know, Roy’s sister, maybe? She’s great and a doctor to boot. Very caring too.”

“You’re caring,” Keeley says slowly, “And anyway, Molly doesn’t like him like that. They’re just friends.”

“Hang on, are you putting yourself in the same bracket as Shandy?” Rebecca interjects.

You shrug. “I was a complete bitch the last month we were together. There’s no excuse for it. I’m just surprised he lasted as long as he did.”

“You were in fucking pain!” Keeley exclaims. “You said you weren’t sleeping and everything fucking hurt and you couldn’t even think straight.”

You grab a handful of candy from a bowl. “Keels, I appreciate the sentiment, but I majorly fucked it. Like, there’s no going back. So he can date whoever he wants as long as it’s not fucking Shandy. Can we please, please move on?”

Rebecca’s eyes are narrowed but they both acquiesce. “Keeley, what about your love life? I’m sure it’s boring as usual.”

Keeley shrieks and smacks her with a pillow. “Fuck off,” she replies. “I’ll have you know it’s going very well…”

—

You were right. You wake up still on the couch tangled in Keeley’s arms, and the standard toe-wiggle just… doesn’t happen. It’s quiet, the early morning type, the kind where the sunlight isn’t so harsh and birds are chirping softly and all of Richmond hasn’t quite got up to begin their day.

As you look at your unmoving toes, the first thing you feel is a rush of relief. The waiting’s over, you think.

You look over to the wheelchair that’s been leaning patiently against the wall all this time. Here’s the first day of forever. You’re in no rush for it to start, so you let Keeley’s little snores and Rebecca’s heavy breathing lull you back to sleep.

—

It’s definitely a learning curve. And it’s frustrating. And if one more person catches you crying out of sheer rage, you’re going to start throwing things. But like Ted said, you don’t really have a choice.

Your mom said, “The only way out is through,” then grinned at the murderous glare you shot her way. She opened her phone and pulled up a picture of you, age three. “Same lovely expression as always,” she remarks cheerfully. That cracks your frown. You always were a funny kid.

It takes a while to figure out how to get places. Keeley (the absolute angel) volunteered, but she’s busy with the PR firm and quite frankly, a little too delicate to help you into a car. You made the mistake of saying this exactly one time and because subject to a rant about how she’s “not weak, just PETITE FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”

Roy had punctuated her argument with a couple “That’s fucking right, babe"s all while rolling his eyes behind her back. It made you giggle.

The general consensus was that at any given reasonable hour (or unreasonable if you’re Richard or Bumbercatch) a Greyhound or coach would be able to get you where you’re needed. And today, that place is Nelson Road.

“How often does Jamie come visit?” Jan Maas asks, straightforward as ever.

“Um, never,” you reply. “We broke up, remember?”

“Right,” agrees Jan Maas. “We all know that, I just assumed you had gotten back together.”

You laugh. How absurd. “And why on earth would you assume that?”

“Because he talks about you all the time,” comes his prompt reply.

Huh. That’s interesting. You haven’t received so much as a single emoji from Jamie, but hadn’t thought a thing of it. But this, this is strange. This does not fit into your idea of how broken up people act.

“Weird,” you say. “Wonder what the fuck that’s about.”

Jan Maas shrugs and moves to lift you from the car.

—

It’s weird to be at Nelson Road, number one because it’s been FOREVER, number two because you’re eye-level with all sorts of things you’d never noticed before (ahem, part of the wall Roy kicked that no one cared to patch up), and number three because the last time you were here, it was as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend.

Jan holds open the door as you roll in, ready to face whatever lies in wait.

It turns out whatever is a very excited Ted and Beard as well as a neutral Roy who present you a coaching jacket and a whistle.

“You’re coaching with us today because that little rat bastard Nate went to the dark side,” Beard says.

You remark, “Tell us how you really feel,” earning a snort from Roy and a chuckle from Trent Crimm.

“Oh yeah,” Ted says, “this is Trent. He’s writing a book.”

“Cool,” you say, “but you do know I know jack shit about coaching?”

Beard shrugs. “Neither do we. Worked out pretty well so far.” That earns another snort from Roy.

“Right,” you say. “Well, I guess I’m up for anything.”

“You mean ‘down,’” says Ted. “Oh I’m sorry, is it too soon?”

“Never,” you reply. “It’s never too soon to make trauma-related puns and this world, it’s either laugh or cry. So fuck it, I’m going to laugh.”

“Fuck yes,” grunts Roy before turning on his heel to yell at the team to GET THE FUCK ON THE PITCH YOU LITTLE PRICKS!

—

You don’t do much except sit there and watch as the coaches yell and point and run drills. It’s a chore to remind yourself not to check out Jamie’s butt as he runs by so you start thinking not yours, not yours, like a mental mantra.

He’s not looking at you so you won’t look at him and you’re sure it won’t be a problem because there are so many people to look at and talk to, except lunch rolls around (haha) and you sit at the head of a table and Jamie’s on the bench right next to you. So. There goes the no eye-contact plan.

You take exactly two bites of your sandwich before thinking fuck this and pushing yourself back so you can roll away. You can just take the elevator to see Becca.

You’ve made it a good way down the hall when you hear Jamie calling your name while saying, “Wait,” so you move a little faster.

But it’s still new and you’re painfully reminded that arms are not legs so he catches you with ease.

“The fuck are you running away for?” he asks, and you want to point out that technically, you weren’t running. Metaphorically though, he’d be right.

“I’m not running,” you reply. “I was just going to see Rebecca.”

“Bullshit,” he says. “I know you, and that was running. Is it because of me?”

“No,” you say, and you realize how much you’ve been looking up today. Your fucking neck needs a break so you rub it and look straight ahead, past Jamie at a life-size decal of O’Brien on the opposite wall.

“Why would I be running away from you? You’re not- I’m the shitty ex in this situation. I’m the one who fucked things up, Jamie, so… you don’t have to like, pretend that it’s your problem. I actually think it would be better if you were just mad and avoided me instead of whatever the hell is currently happening.”

Jamie rubs his jaw. He should be exasperated, he should, but instead the gears in his mind are turning. A few words stick out to him and then it’s like the final puzzle piece has clicked into place.

“Hang on,” he says slowly. “Hold the fuck up. Did you mess things up on purpose?”

The moment the words are out of his mouth he wants to take them back and apologize, because there’s no way they’re actually true, except you have a look on your face that can only be described as guilty.

“Fuuckkk,” Jamie breathes out and you hurriedly interject, “It wasn’t intentional! At least, not at first. It started because I was irritable because I hurt a lot, and then I convinced myself that I was faking it so I got mad at myself for being a little liar. And then I couldn’t sleep because I hurt so bad and everything was making me uncomfortable so I started snapping at you. I noticed it pretty quick so I figured I’d get the pain checked out and sorted because I didn’t think pulled muscles were supposed to last this long. And it turned out that it wasn’t a pulled muscle but some of my disks were all weird, and then one day in between physical therapy and the chiropractor, I fell on my back and jostled everything wrong and it fucking popped.”

Jamie thinks he knows exactly when that was. He remembers you saying something about falling while walking to your car after work and him asking if you needed ice. It was at the tail end of things, and he’d taken your stiffness figuratively as opposed to literally. Like, you were acting all cold because you hated him, not because you couldn’t move.

“So,” you continue, “I just leaned into it. I mean, Dr. Hadley was only one of my doctors, but she’s the one who told me I- you know, could end up like this. She said if things popped and it got into my spinal cord or fluid or whatever and they couldn’t get it out, it was only a matter of time before it messed everything up. They only way to stop it at that point would be to not move so either way, I end up stuck.”

You half-sob, half-laugh. “I didn’t know how to tell you and I could tell you were already annoyed with me so I just decided to let it happen. You’re better off without me, anyway. I hate asking for help and I hate when people give me empathetic looks or what-fucking-ever, and I was going to have to ask you for a lot of help. You don’t even fucking have time for that, Jamie.”

Jamie is at a loss for words, and you’ve run out of things to say.

You stare at each other in the hallway by the elevator, breathing heavily. You’ve both triggered each other’s fight-or-flight response, and it seems you’re both down for a fight.

“Right,” Jamie says finally, “ok, yeah, ok. You didn’t tell me because you didn’t want me to have to deal with this?”

You nod.

“Right,” he says again. “That’s fucked up.”

You don’t respond and he looks at you closely. “You know that’s fucked up, yeah?”

You shrug.

“Jesus, babe.” Jamie runs his hands through his hair. He’s going to have to fix his headbands. “Alright,” he says yet again, “look. Dr. Sharon and me- we talk. And, you’re supposed to be able to talk to people about shit like this. Like, me playing football isn’t supposed to mean I don’t have time for the people I love. And if you’re feeling that way or if you’re hurting, you have to tell me so I don’t think you’re being all pissed off because you hate me. That’s the whole point of love, babe. You take care of each other’s shit.”

“Jamie, I can’t get places easily anymore. I can’t drive and I can’t go up steps. I will never be able to storm the pitch to kiss you or walk with you in Brazil. I get mad really easily because everything’s so fucking frustrating and I just want to punch something.” You shake your head. “You don’t deserve any of that. You need someone who can be there for you and isn’t a total pill to be around.”

“Are you fucking trying to push me away?” he asks.

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Obviously!”

“Well fucking don’t. You almost had me the first time, but good luck getting rid of me now.”

“Fine!”

“For fuck’s sake, just kiss,” groans Will, walking by with an armful of laundry.

“Fuck off, William!” you both say in unison and then Jamie’s on one knee, eye-level with you and brushing a thumb across your chin.

“Fucking hell, love,” he breathes. “You have to remember that you can talk to me, yeah? Just promise you’ll remember.”

You nod, unable to speak.

“Good,” he says. “We’re giving this another go. And if you can’t kiss me on the pitch, might as well do it here, yeah?”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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geralt-of-baevia · 2 months

Text

Call It What You Want: Chapter One

pairing: nobreakout!joel x f!ofc (Violet Fletcher)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 2.1k

summary: Seeking solace from a painful breakup, Violet relocates to a tranquil town, purchasing a neglected house to renovate. In her new neighborhood, she befriends Harlow, who introduces her to Joel, a gruff and seasoned contractor with a heart of gold. Despite Joel's initial grumpiness, Violet finds herself drawn to his expertise and hidden kindness.

As Violet immerses herself in home renovations alongside Joel, their dynamic begins to shift, with Joel unexpectedly opening himself up to the possibility of love. Their budding relationship faces challenges as shadows from their pasts emerge, testing their newfound connection.

warnings/tags: nothing for now! just lots of light and airy fluff and a meet-cute! but don't worry, it's gonna get dirty 😈! oh, I guess age gap? yeah, that one.

a/n: alright, i've had MAJOR writer's block for a couple years now. I tried to write a Ted Lasso fic last year, but quickly lost steam. But somehow Pedge worked his magic on me and I'm already nine chapters in on this story and 25k words and I'm just now posting it! I hope y'all enjoy. This story means the world to me rn. <3

My keys jingled in the door, and I couldn’t help but let out an aggravated sigh. This was at least the third time this week that the front door was sticking. I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed again, knowing my fate: I would have to crawl through the kitchen window.

Again.

As I walked around the back to go in through the kitchen window, I heard a voice calling my name. I looked across the street and saw my neighbor Harlow. She was standing on the last step of her front porch. One of her hands was held up to her brow as a temporary visor, blocking her eyes from the sun. She was shaking her head at me with a big, stupid grin.

“Girl, is that front door stuck again?” she asked, humor dripping from her faint southern drawl.

I sighed, crossing my arms in defeat and shifting my weight to one hip.

“Is there any use in lying to you at this point?” I called back in response.

She let out a loud laugh. “At least this time I caught you before you god forbid get stuck in that damn kitchen window again, ass up and legs flailing.”

I laughed at her comment and placed a hand awkwardly over my face in embarrassment. Two days prior I had gotten stuck climbing through the kitchen window when the front door had been jammed again, Harlow coming to my rescue.

“And I thought you had “finally fixed” anyway?” she asked, doing air quotes with her hands.

“I did!”

“And how is that working out for you?”

I shook my head with a laugh and flipped her the bird.

“Well, why don’t you come over and I’ll make us some breakfast?” she said, motioning me to come over to her, “and then you are going to let me call my friend who will come and fix your door. And I’m not letting you tell me no this time.”

I knew there was no saying no to her.

----

“Wait, so you’re telling me you just sautee mushrooms and onions, and then put it between puff pastry and a slab of beef?”

I nodded with a giggle. “Mmhmm. And then you brush the meat with mustard as well.”

Harlow’s mouth dropped open.

“I’ll make it for you sometime!” I told her excitedly, “I haven’t made it since culinary school, but I loved it.”

The doorbell rang and interrupted us. Harlow shot up from her seat excitedly.

“He’s here!” she said as she made her way towards the front door. She paused for a minute and turned to face me.

“Okay, just a warning real quick. Don’t be put off by the fact that he might be a bit of a curmudgeon,” she giggled.

“A curmudgeon? That’s such a specific brand of grump,” I said with a chuckle. She shrugged her shoulders before turning back around to get the door.

The doorbell rang a second time and I heard Harlow shout, “I’m coming! Be patient, Jesus…”

I giggled to myself and took a long drink of my coffee. Before I was able to set my mug down on the table, I looked up to see Harlow walk back into the kitchen, a tall man following behind her.

“Do you want some coffee Joel?” she asked him. I watched as he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame of the doorway.

“Yes, please,” he replied, emphasizing the please.

I started to stand up to introduce myself, but he caught my eye and put a hand up to stop me.

“Oh, no need to get up on my behalf,” he said, stopping me. I sat back down as he walked the few steps between us and held his hand out to me.

I took his hand in mine and he gave me a firm handshake. I almost missed him introducing himself to me. I was too focused on how the pads of his hand and fingers were callused, and how it felt against my smooth skin.

“I’m Joel.”

“Hi, I’m Violet,” I replied, thankful that at least the autopilot in my head was paying attention. A big smile spread on his face, causing his eyes to squint and get crinkly in the corners.

“As in the Violet that lives across the street in the 1940s fixer-upper?” He had the same faded southern accent that Harlow did. They had known each other for a long time.

“I feel bad that you seem to know more about me than I know about you,” I said, trying to not come across awkwardly. Joel took a seat and let out an airy chuckle.

“Oh don’t worry, there’s not much to know about me,” he said sincerely.

“We both know that’s not true,” Harlow interjected. She sat down at the end of the table between Joel and me, handing him his coffee.

“Thank you,” he said almost in relief.

I tried my hardest not to stare at Joel, but I caught myself looking him up and down more than once as we sat at the table and talked.

“Wait, so what’s goin’ on?” he asked, setting his now empty coffee mug down on the table. I sighed before tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Okay, so the original door knob kept catching and jamming. Something having to do with the original door knob not lining up correctly when it's closed. I thought putting a new door knob and re-aligning it would work. But then I tried to open my door when I got open, and it was stuck again,” I explained, “so I think it’s past me just YouTubing answers.”

“Well it’s a good thing that Joel here is a carpenter,” Harlow said, patting him on the shoulder. He smiled another crinkled smile at her.

“Retired carpenter, but yes,” he said, giving her a friendly wink, “but I can fix that. I bet you anything your doorway is slackin’ and need a new door. Either way, I’m sure I can fix it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother-”

“If it was going to be a bother to me, I wouldn’t have come here in the first place,” he said with a knowing smirk. I tried my hardest to keep my blushing to a minimum, but my cheeks still grew warm.

Joel stood up and clapped his hands, rubbing them together excitedly. “Alright ladies, let's get up and go look at this door.” We all got up and exited the house, making our way across the street to mine.

I smiled up at the house as we made our way to the front door. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe it was mine. The house had been barely used for almost a decade. Each one of the five bedrooms needed to be redone. And the two bathrooms. And the sitting rooms. It was a lot of work, but worth it. Not to mention a dilapidated house was cheaper to buy than a ready-to-move-in one. I saw it as a way that I get to make the house exactly how I wanted it.

Once we were at the door, Joel held his hand out to me.

“Key please,” he said, locking eyes with me as he did. I fumbled into my pocket, pulled the key out, and placed it in his hand. “Thanks.”

He put the key in the keyhole and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. He tried turning it the other way, but it still didn’t move. I sighed.

“How badly did I fuck it up?” I asked. He let out a chuckle.

“You didn’t fuck it up, the house did,” he said, giving me a reassuring look. I watched as he pointed out areas around the frame on the wall, “I guarantee you it’s like I said, slacking in these places and putting the door off balance.”

“So what's the fix?” I asked, “Is it going to be intense?”

“Not at all. It’s a project I could do and get done by this afternoon. I just need to go get some things for it,” he said, still looking at the wall and assessing. “But I need to look at it from the inside before I can tell. Is there a way to get in?”

Harlow giggled. “Through the kitchen window. I had to help rescue her the other day, though.”

"I’ll give you a boost this time then,” he said with a smirk.

The three of us made our way around the back of the house, and I shimmied open the window just enough for me to fit through. Joel squatted down, laced his fingers together, and looked up at me.

“Ready?” he asked. I nodded in response. I took a deep breath, placed my hands on Joel’s shoulders, and then my foot in his hands.

“Three, two, one, up.” On ‘up’ I jumped with my foot on the ground as he simultaneously lifted me. I was taken aback a little by how effortlessly he did so, and how I could feel muscles through his shirt.

I grabbed onto the bottom of the windowsill and pulled myself up as Joel continued to push. He led the foot that was in his hands to his shoulder, where I was able to give myself a final boost and get through the window. I grabbed onto the edge of the counter inside and pulled myself the rest of the way in, accidentally landing in a thud on the black and white kitchen floor.

“You okay?” Joel and Harlow shouted in unison.

“I’m fine!” I called back as I got myself to my feet. I peeked out of the window to look at them. “I’m going to go find an easier window for you two to climb through and get it ready.”

I ran towards the front of the house, looking for a window that was lower and easier to get through. I decided on one of the windows that lined the porch. I haphazardly ripped the screen from the window and unlocked it. After opened it I stuck my head out and shouted, “Over here, you two!”

Once Harlow and Joel crawled into the house, Joel immediately headed for the front door.

“Have you decided on a paint color for this room yet?” Harlow asked me, looking around the room we were in. I shook my head.

“I’ve decided to keep the wallpaper. I’m just going to clean it and touch up the trim,” I told her with a big smile. She looked around the room at the wallpaper in question, wincing a little at the bold gold pattern on the walls.

“So, I was right,” Joel said, peeking his head around into the room. He nudged his head for me to come see. I swallowed the butterflies down into my stomach and went into the foyer. He nudged his head again before crouching down by the door knob. I closed the space between us and followed suit, crouching down so that I was at eye level with Joel and the doorknob.

Joel pointed his finger at where the door and the frame joined. “See how it’s not lining up, it's just a little too low.”

I watched as he stood up and grabbed onto the knob with both hands. With a grunt, he lifted the door and turned it at the same time. To my happy surprise, the door opened with no problem. Joe took a step back and placed his hands on his hips, looking at the door with a sense of accomplishment.

“So, a new doorframe?” I asked as I got to my feet. He replied with a “mmhmm.”

“Yep. I just need to take some measurements of the door and the frame. I know I have enough spare wood at my place, but I’ll need a new door. Did you say you have the original hardware?”

I nodded. “How much is a new door going to cost? I can get you the money for it.”

He shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry. I know a guy where I can get a good door for cheap. Consider it a housewarming gift.”

Harlow and I sat on my front porch as we watched Joel drive off in the direction of the woodshop.

“So, I thought you said he was a curmudgeon?” I said, keeping my gaze ahead.

“He is. Usually.”

She nudged my shoulder with hers, causing me to sway to the side. I straightened up and finally looked over at her just in time to nudge her back, biting at my bottom lip.

Usually. We’ll have to see what that means.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x oc #tlou hbo #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak au

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zukotheartist · 1 year

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Some across the Spiderverse thoughts that i left in some tags and texts but wanted to make into a post - spoilers ofc!

---

I'm a huge fan of how heavily they leaned into superheroes as a metaphor for queerness.

I think superheroes are inherently a metaphor for queerness, even when that's not the intent, bc (to quote Ted Lasso) it's living 2 separate lives and wishing they could just melt into one.

But with movies like across the Spiderverse (and also dc's battle of the supersons but ill get to that later) they really underline the queer metaphor.

Gwen has a trans flag with the words "protect trans kids" in her room and as @/jellyfishbees pointed out in their post: also, it's interesting to read "coming out as a superhero" as a queer allegory and it works in this situation as it parallels queer kids being kicked out of their homophobic homes and staying with friends in the aftermath.

Referred to Gwen crashing at Hobie's universe (rather than place bc he's homeless) after her cop dad threatens to shoot her and arrest her even after her "coming out" as Spiderwoman.

It also felt very personal to me bc like Miles i also have a caribbean mom (not specifically puerto rican but the spanish accents/dialects in the caribbean area do have a lot in common with each other imo*) and the startup of his "coming out" (as Spiderman) + Rio's reaction felt like a mirrored version of my own coming out to my mom.

(Tho mine had a different ending rip lol).

It was also interesting to me how this homophobic tween in the audience reached my same conclusion from a different standpoint (me from a queer one, him from a homophobic one) which ik bc he said "I thought he was a f--" using the italian version of the f slur. It must mean Something if they played it in a way that even homophobes think of it as a "coming out" scene.

As I mentioned before, there's another animated superhero movie that did this.

Battle of the supersons is a movie about Jon Kent (Superman's son and one of the Superboys) and Damian Wayne (5th Robin, one of Batman's kids) becoming friends and fighting an alien invasion together.

But the story starts with Jon unaware that his dad's Superman so he freaks out when his powers awaken and we get a sort of "coming out" scene when he opens up to his dad about them.

In the comics Jon's canonly bisexual and had his own Pride Month special issue last year and the cast of the movie cracked some jokes about it at NYCC (Jon's VA had to record his scenes in a closet, etc).

And idk, i just think superheroes as a queer metaphor is all really neat :)

*unrelated but that's exactly why the "I heard Spiderman's puerto rican" *Miles freezes* "nah, I think he's dominican actually" was really funny to me. Personally im cuban but have been mistaken for puerto rican and ik puerto ricans that have been mistaken for cubans, it's really interesting from a linguistic perspective!

#spiderman across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #smatsv #miles morales #gwen stacy #hobie brown #jon kent #damian wayne #battle of the super sons #al's post

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podklb · 1 year

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Nate-Centric Fic Recs: Part 1 (Gen)

This is my first post in ages, because I have decided I have something of value to contribute! And that is my knowledge of excellent fics about Nathan Shelley. I love pretty much all the characters on Ted Lasso, but Nate is my favorite, I’ve got a bit of a mental collection of great Nate fics, so I thought I’d type it out and share it with the world.

When I started to write this out, I realized that I have too many recs for a single post, so this one is just for gen fic, and shipfic will be in a separate post.

Nathan Shelley Gen Fic Recs

do you believe in ghosts? by @atlanticsea, ~2.5k. A character study of Nate’s journey through S1 and S2, gorgeously written with a very cool ghost metaphor woven throughout.

talk about me, make it all about you by @ohlafraise, ~1K. Nate and Jamie run into each other in S3. This fic is thoughtful, funny, insightful, and deeply satisfying, all in under 1000 words!

he can’t play it any faster when he plays the blues by @thatsparrow, ~3.5K. Rupert takes Nate out for drinks after work. This has a fantastic Nate POV that lets him be complicated about Ted and Beard and Rupert and beautifully explores all of his layers of feelings on top of feelings throughout the evening.

I Knew I Was Right (I Learned I Was Wrong) by @fandomfrolics, ~6.5K. After Nate leaves West Ham, Rebecca invites him to spend several days on her yacht. Beard tags along. The connections Nate has with both Beard and Rebecca and the way they unpack their past hurts and slowly begin to move to a different place than they started from is fascinating. This story understands all three characters extremely well.

Kitman, Backup, Wonderkid by @bisexualshakespeare, ~.5K. This is actually a filk, which means a fannish song! I love this type of fanwork and Ted Lasso fandom has very few, but we are very lucky that the ones we have are by bisexualshakespeare, who is one of the best filk lyricists I've ever encountered. This song is to the tune of Loser Geek Whatever from Be More Chill and it's absolutely perfect. Please PLEASE if you check this out, actually listen to the performance of the song, which is emotional and devastating in the best way. The lyrics are a perfect encapsulation of the headspace Nate would have gotten to by the S2 finale, and S3 so far has made it just age better and better. If you are a Nate fan, this is worth the 6 minutes of your time that it will take to listen to it, I promise.

Self-Care Tips for Lonely, Bitter-Hearted Fools by @boglady, ~5.5K. This is a character study of Nate via a bunch of self-care advice that is extremely unhelpful/frustrating/condescending because it doesn't acknowledge or address his actual needs. Kind of like most of the well-meaning advice he gets in canon! This fic is so smart about Nate and about retelling canon moments from his POV. Very formative to me when I first fell in love with this character and was gobbling up every fic I could find about him.

For a Minute There I Lost Myself by @boasamishipper, ~7.5K. Nate muddles through figuring out who he is as a head coach at West Ham. It takes him some time, but it's a beautiful journey, and the West Ham player OCs are well-developed and delightful! I love that this fic is about Nate continuing his journey on his own, that his growth here comes purely from figuring himself out, and he doesn't need the other Ted Lasso characters to do any of that work for him. He's got this!

Can't Take Them Anywhere by @hacash, ~2K. The history of kit man Nate's very detailed and specific list of what to not do with hotel furniture. One of the tags is "potentially the real Nate Shelley villain origin story" and that captures so much of what I love about the fic. It's hilarious and fun! While at the same time there's a real undercurrent of how deeply messed up and unfair it is for all the players to be so immature and self-centered and for Nate to constantly be the one who has to clean up their messes! A delightful romp, but with weight to it. Perfection.

Leave Elegance to the Tailor by TwelveLeagues, ~3.5K. Nate shops for a suit with Ted, then with Keeley, and then with Rupert. Like everything TwelveLeagues writes, this has incredible nuance and character insight in pretty much every sentence. Seeing the way Nate changes over time is painful, and the end is devastating, but there's also hope because throughout the earlier scenes we've seen so thoroughly who Nate is at his core and that he's so much more than the terrible situation he ends up in.

#ted lasso #nate shelley #nathan shelley #fic recs

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probablynottola · 1 month

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20 Questions For Fic Writers

Tagged by @beckstraordinary

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

9 completed works, some of them multichapter but nothing tooo long. one series.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

More than my actual thesis... that i should have been writing... for my actual work... (almost 85k)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Ted Lasso and Tedpendent specifically! But I am a multishipper, so you'll find some TrentBeard in there and some TrentRoy too.

I'd love to write for Midnight Mass but I'm scared of how to write all the religious talk. I thought about writing for OFMD and BBC Ghosts but sort of didn't find the inspiration. There's something about TedTrent that just has that sort of grip on my brain I guess!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

So... Michelle’s Bisexual Bureau of Investigation seems to be the most liked. I mean, it's basically about Trent being a gay disaster on social media so I think many of us out there can relate (it's actually largely based on something I personally did). It was fun to write and I can sort of see why it's a fun read.

Second, third and fourth place we have 🪄The Smut Fics🪄. It's all private on ao3, so you'll need a profile to access them cause, well.

Fifth place we have Bicycle Day Surprisingly Not About Cycling, which is about divorced dads with a mutual crush doing LSD together. 😇 It was so hard to write but I had one (1) idea and had to stick with it!! Also it was for a challenge so I was extra determined to get it out of my system.

Ironically (in the Alanis sense of the term) some of my personal favourites have the least kudos.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I love recieving comments and I wanna let people know I really appreciate them. Also, I love commenting on fics and treat the comment section on ao3 as a sort of community-building place. People have been so nice and lovely in the comment sections, it's amazing, really.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The ending is not angsty, cause I like to give some happiness to my fictional babes, but this one is sort of angsty and has the least explicit happy ending: Can you still edit a written book?. It's about Beard and Trent being sad and miserable about Ted leaving and hooking up about it. I also wrote a short sequel here: A different pace. This is a wip series and it's the most emo / earnest i got with fic writing. I don't mind it tho!

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Inside of me there are two wolves. One wants to make a sex joke out of the question and thus recommending smut, the other wants to link a wholesome future fic written from the Crimmlet's pov. The duality of humankind.

All of my fics have happy endings, so I'll re-interpret the question and I'll link A very special Crimmlet Diary entry for Coming Out day because it has a glimpse on a very cute and happy family future for Ted and Trent together.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Only from my own brain when I feel down about my writing! 🙃

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

YES. I. DO.

More open than the jar of peanut butter on my kitchen counter is a multi-chapter multishipping madness of a fic I thought about orphaning many times and which I keep as a testament of my own progress in writing fics. I am still grateful for having had some help with beta-reading it but it's just such a mess and very self-indulgent. There's some fun sexy parts including potentially problematic dirty talk, public sex, platonically holding your hands with your bff while you both get head... Ops.

I also wrote an alternative chapter for it which became a one shot, called Cowboys are secretly frequently fond of each other, which is about Trent getting horny over Ted singing karaoke.

But I think the only one I really like it's You’re an angel I’m a dog (Or you're a dog and I'm your man). It's a nasty (you've been warned!) PWP pup play fic. I just think those men deserve to be freaks once in a while. I debated over publishing this as anon but my lack of shame won.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No... but I do think Trent deserves boyfriends from every corner of the multiverse.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I'd love to. My DMs are open!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

💙Ted and Trent💙. Truly a perfect ship. My losers. I love them.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Midnight Mass AU that lives rent free in my head and that most likely will never see the light of day (...wink wink, pun intended).

16. What are your writing strengths?

I don't know! I think I can be quite funny. And sometimes poetic, even accidentally so, in the way non-native speakers sometimes can be, using language in a different way. I think I can also write pining quite well (gay water sign talent).

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I hate, HATE, writing dialogue. I am terrified of it. I am afraid it will sound fake or artificial. I also feel insecure about English not being my first language and it showing in fics, in them sounding weird somehow. Not seeing mistakes etc. But I also lack the impulse control needed to wait for fics to be beat read and I sometimes just post the second is done. Which. Not ideal.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

The bane of my existence. Hell on earth. Help. (I willfully misinterpret this question and answer implying that all dialogue is in another language for me).

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Somewhere, on EFP (Italian fanfic site) there are some original works of mine from AGES AGO, and even (if memory doesn't fail me) some Harry Potter wips that I hope are long gone, since fuck that TERF and her work.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Probably the last one I wrote for the AFC Richmond discord server bingo challenge. To love flowing in different directions. it's about queer chosen family and love. It has puns about sex toys, drunken confessions, fantastic wing man action, lots of mutual pining. It was fun to write!

No pressure tags: @bookqueen101 @leeofthestone @thistableforone @rootingfordorks @crimmcakes @carduelisfinch @tinylilemrys @jamiepoptart

#ao3 #fanfic writers #fanfic writing #fanfic #fanfiction #writer questions #writing #tedtrent fic #tedtrent #tedpendent #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic

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trentcrimminallybeautiful · 5 months

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fic in review 2023 :)

this old tag game used to go around every year but no one's tagged me the past few years so i just. Tag My Self . because it is FUN ! it's the Shamelessly Promote Your Work game and it's fun looking at all the stats and reviewing your year in writing. it's the most indulgent tag game ever come join me

tagging: WHOEVER WANTS TO DO IT! YAY! TAG ME! 🎉but also specifically (no pressure! i will not be offended if you ignore, this is A Lot): @mvshortcut @fade-in-the-dark @altschmerzes @writer-and-thrasher @kar-krashew :)

i'm applying this to "trentcrimminallybeautiful" specifically, not the other fics on my ao3. ...mostly.

Total Number of Completed Stories:

total posted, complete or not: 40 works on ao3, but of those 40, four are collective works, so if we count each chapter/snippet as its own "completed stories", that's... 74, wow.

however, as for "complete"... not counting those snippet collections, 33. if i count the snippets i consider somewhat "complete"... probably around 57? some of them are hard to determine if they feel "complete" or not, hence why they're in snippets collection jail in the first place.

Total Word Count: according to ao3′s word count, 277,118, which is counting my works for other fandoms but is not counting the squillion wips i have unposted on ao3.

Fandoms Written In: Ted Lasso, mostly. But also The Mysterious Benedict Society. Also a Professor Layton fic.

Looking back did you expect to write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d expect: More! Trent really grabbed my brain. Spinning him.

What’s your own favorite story of the year, personally?:

UhhhHHHH. I'm bad at choices so here's several:

"trick & treat" and "off the record" for some overly self indulgent smut. and also the deeply embarrassing venom au oneshot

"being right" and this fic about trent being sick

superhero au oneshot, "second impressions", and a fmk oneshot for sillies, "high noon over richmond" or this time travel snippet...

Did you take any writing risks this year?: Hmm well I'd call That Goddamn Venom AU a Fucking Risk, as well as the My God What's This? Catboy Smut Oneshot With The Steel Chair

but honestly there were several fics i was unsure about, which got a variety of responses i think, although none atrociously bad

Do you have any fanfic goals for the New Year?: So many WIPs I want to like. actually write.

Best story of the year: Well, that's not favorite (my favorite) or most popular (everyone else's favorite) so is that supposed to mean objectively the best? Because I still am bad at judging this. At a guess, the aforementioned superhero au, one of those indulgent smut fics, or possibly this deeply stupid crack fic about rupert mannion sucking in bed. Or "ink sunset". NO WAIT. IT'S MATTERS OF THE HEART of course it is

Most popular story of the year: hm. WELL. im only doing ones on this account bc i can’t be bothered to pull up the other ones tbh but

By kudos: "Ted Lasso Kisses Trent Crimm On The Mouth" with 1004

By subscriptions: "sweeter than heaven (hotter than hell)" with 70

By comment threads: if we're counting snippet collections, first goes to the first snippet collection with 130 and then the second one with 124. if we're not, then it's "Rupert Mannion Is Batman (He Isn't)" with 78. (although "Ted Lasso Kisses Trent Crimm On The Mouth" is at 77--close!)

By bookmarks: "Ted Lasso Kisses Trent Crimm On The Mouth" with 294

By hits: "Ted Lasso Kisses Trent Crimm On The Mouth" with 5324

So overall, probably "Ted Lasso Kisses Trent Crimm On The Mouth"/ By far. Wow.

Most personal story of the year: Probably I WANTED TO BE LOVED SO DESPERATELY / THAT MY FINGERS SHOOK WITH IT or lost sight of (who you are). Wait, no. matters of the heart.

Funniest story of the year: Oh I have so many fucking crack fics. Perhaps one of my many stupid time travel aus, or painting the town richmond blue, or Rupert Mannion Is Batman (He Isn't)? Or that aforementioned stupid fmk oneshot.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: Hmmm, lost sight of (who you are), wayward thoughts, and being right.

Most fun story to write: I think i have the most fun with crack and smut--not that I don't love angst, because I do, but crack is just bouncing whatever I think will be funniest and flying by the seat of my pants, and if I manage to write and post smut, it is always extremely indulgent. Can't think of any in these particular genres I haven't already mentioned.

Story with the sexiest moment: Definitely "trick & treat" or "off the record".

Sweetest story of the year: Perhaps "helpless in a game of kisses" or this meet-cute? I also quite enjoyed the ending of "the dregs at the bottom of the glass".

“Holy crap that’s wrong even for you!” story: I'm gonna take this to mean angsty instead of scandalous, and say maybe the first chapter of "make a mess of you"?

Hardest story to write: matters of the heart and its sequel has been fucking me up. Also see lost sight of (who you are).

Biggest disappointment: Some fics I really like didn't do so well, but then, a lot of them did, so I try not to dwell on it

Biggest surprise: Was really nervous about a few oneshots I really liked and worked hard on (particularly "matters of the heart" and some of that stupidly indulgent smut) but they got a pretty good reception! Also see: just how bad Trent Crimm has invaded my brain <3

#tag game #gertspeak

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m-y--p-a-s-s-i-o-n-s · 7 months

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20 Questions for Fic Writers!

Thanks for the tag, @lizzy0305 <333

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

162

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

622,263 - surprisingly low for how many fics I have, but a bunch are drabbles so I guess that checks.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

What fandoms don't I write for? XD

Supernatural. Sherlock. Star Trek. Teen Wolf. Marvel. Harry Potter. Merlin. James Bond. Lucifer. House MD. Primeval. Doctor Who. Venom. The Witcher. The Old Guard. Ted Lasso. Detroit Become Human. Good Omens. Our Flag Means Death. Hannibal.

Plus a few others.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Meant To Be - AOS Star Trek

5 Times Jim Forgot About Vulcan Hand Sensitivity & 1 Time He Didn't - AOS Star Trek

Making Love - Venom

Lunch Break - House MD

Truth Or Dare - Supernatural

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to respond to every comment provided its not hate, I ignore hate. I want people to know that their comment is truly appreciated from the bottom of my heart. Comments are food for the writer's soul.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably either The Void (TOS Star Trek) or Forever (SPN) or most of my SPN Endverse fics.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of my fics have happy endings, I live for them! Hmmm trying to think of particularly fluffy ones though... The Prince and The Princess - (AOS Star Trek) What No Man Has Done Before - (AOS Star Trek X HP) Good News - (DBH) Afterlife - (TOS Star Trek)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not too much, but it happens every so often. Why people can't just exit a fic or not interact with it if they don't like it is beyond me.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Sure do. Um, explicit and M/M but the specifics vary depending on pairing and fic. Been getting more detailed and more adventurous with it over the years though.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Ohhhh boi have I ever written a crazy crossover XD

Convergence - where I brought many many fandoms (and even more ships) together in a story with an actual plot.

Its not my only crossover, but it's by far the craziest.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of, but I have been asked if some can be translated before, just never heard from them again.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

In a way with @lizzy0305 who started Fragments ages ago and then I finished it because we both knew she wasn't going to finish it.

and also Double Date with weegie8 a long long time ago.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

My OTP of OTPs is Spirk <3

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Theres a johnlock fic that could be the first wip i never go back to.

and an SPN and a Stanner fic that both could stay wips forever, but honestly it just takes one spark in my brain and the right mood and I could finish any of these, so never say never.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Not sure really. My fluff is extra tooth rotting? XD Also once I get used to a character their voice is easy to channel I suppose.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Feels like everything when you're trying to write a damn fic XD um, maybe not putting in enough details into a scene.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I often use Vulcan language in Star Trek fics, I think it adds to it. However I get that it can be annoying to not understand a piece of likely important dialogue cause its in another language. It doesn't bother me though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Technically HP when I was teen, before I knew what fandom and fanfiction were. But when I was in the know it was Supernatural.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

How can I just pick one? I'll pick a multichapter and a one shot that I love.

The One That Got Away - TOS Star Trek

The Update - DBH

Tagging: @dayspring-askanison @heartshapedvows @doonarose

#tag game #thankies <3

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lamardeuse · 7 months

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20 questions for fic writers

tagged by @devirnis <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

342

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

a little over 1.8 million

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, 9-1-1, though in the last two years I've also written Merlin, Ted Lasso, Stargate: Atlantis and Our Flag Means Death, and I've completed two OFMD vids and am working on a third.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Accept No Substitutes (Merlin) 2. What Child Is This (Merlin) 3. Best Man (Merlin) 4. Motive and Method (Hawaii Five-O) 5. Revelation (Merlin)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Of course I do. Why wouldn't I?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I might put angst in the fic itself, but I don't usually leave it in an angsty place. I suppose overall the angstiest fics ending-wise would be the Doggett/Reyes fics I wrote in X Files, probably because that was kind of the mood of the show.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I haven't really written any non-happy ending fics, and to classify one as "happiest" after 300+ stories over 20 years is pretty much impossible, sorry. Oh wait, in Defenders of the Realm (linked below) Merlin and Arthur save millions of people so I guess I'd pick that one. ;)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't gotten hate specifically; I've shown my ass once or twice over the years and been called out for it, and I've apologized and corrected where possible. And lately with 9-1-1 I've had the odd person upset about the actions of a character in a couple of my fics, but it's not that they think the actions are out of character. It almost seems as though they don't want characters to ever do things that are personally frustrating or upsetting to them even if those actions make sense for that character in that situation? It's odd, but thankfully it's been pretty rare.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yep. I've written a wide variety of stuff over the years. Even straight people getting it on! :D

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Harry Potter/US Queer as Folk, anyone?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't really care if I have.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, several times! I'm always so amazed that someone took the time to do that.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, though not recently; it used to happen a lot more in the good ol' days of LiveJournal.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

I couldn't even begin to pick. So many men, so little time. When I'm in the throes of fandom love, that's my favourite.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have one Merlin WIP up on AO3 that still bothers me from time to time, but I'm not sure I'll ever get back to it because I just got mired in a plot dead end and saw no way out. I also have over 10000 words of an OFMD modern AU, but again, I hit a point where I realized I had no idea how to end it so I hit the brakes at the end of act one.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I would say characterization, and making an effort to research and try my best to work the location or the culture of the characters into a story in an authentic way.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Plot-heavy stories are not my favourite thing - I can do it but I'd rather write basic bitch romcoms. And you're not going to get the most original shit ever from me - my writing is not gourmet cuisine, it's comfort food.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Research, and/or have a beta who speaks that language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh god, I think it was either V or Adderly, a very Canadian show from the 80s. Those were written on high school foolscap and will never see the light of day.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Again, it's really hard to pick one after all these years. Just a few random fics I have soft spots for: Auld Lang Syne (due South), Refugee Status (Sentinel), The Road to Nevada (SGA), Defenders of the Realm (Merlin), And We'll Talk in Present Tenses (Lewis), Skin Deep (I Spy), From a Rut to a Groove (Die Hard), and too many heartbeats for one ribcage (911).

I don't tag, so anyone who wants to do this have at it!

#writing #my stuff

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tinylilemrys · 10 months

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Lonely In London

Relationship:

Trent Crimm/Ted Lasso

Additional Tags:

Angst and Romance | Romcommunism | Friends to Lovers | Romantic Comedy | Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Summary:

Henry, worried about how lonely his dad seems to be in London, writes into an advice podcast for some help. A podcast run by an ex-colleague of Trent's – one that he listens to religiously. If Trent falls a little for 'Lonely In London' because he reminds him of Ted, well that's just coincidence. An homage to romcommunism, largely based on 'Sleepless In Seattle' with a few others thrown in for good measure.

Previous Chapter | Final Chapter

CHAPTER 4

Trent is in a car park in front of Heathrow.

He's trying very hard not to think about the fact that he anonymously told the man who he's absolutely gone for that he'll be waiting for him here in just under four months. It's a dizzying thought.

Right now, he's just waiting for Ted who's making sure Henry safely boards his flight back to Kansas.

He probably shouldn't have offered but he knows firsthand how shitty handovers are and Ted was just going to take an Uber otherwise. Better to save him the money and the bother, offer him the lift, comfort him about Henry, and maybe even come to some sort of understanding about where they're at. The month since the kiss has been fraught with tension and it's getting to the point where the team and staff are noticing. They need to get on some kind of page about it at the very least.

A text from Ted breaks his gloomy train of thought.

Henry's through check-in. It's still a while before he flies and I have to stay here until he's airborne. Let's do lunch? Or at least a drink. Don't think my nerves could take a meal right now.

Trent doesn't need telling twice.

It doesn't take him long to spot Ted. He thinks at this point he'd be able to immediately spot him in the densest of crowds, like the world's easiest and most specific Where's Wally. He smiles privately at how if Ted could hear his thoughts, he would insist on only being compared to Where's Waldo.

He's immensely glad that telepathy is beyond Ted's many talents.

"Well as I live and breathe, if it isn't Trent Crimm, future bestseller." Ted's smile is as wide as ever, but it doesn't crinkle the corners of his eyes the way it usually does. He's heartbroken, as Trent fully expected.

"How are you holding up, Ted?" he asks and Ted's smile settles into something far more tired, heartbroken, and real.

"Ah, well, you know," says Ted, his eyes looking rather misty, "it never gets easier."

His thumb is worrying over a keyring – a little LEGO minifigure that Trent suspects might be made to look like Ted. Likely a gift from Henry. Trent wants to throw his arms around him. To just hold him until it hurts a bit less.

He knows he can't. Not after July.

"Shall we get this drink you threatened me with?" says Trent gently and Ted nods, taking a deep breath.

After they're settled at a booth in a chain coffee shop with their respective hot drinks – Ted with an extremely apt Americano, Trent with an equally on-the-nose Earl Grey tea – Trent finds himself clearing his throat.

"So, do you want to talk about how you're feeling about Henry flying back?" he braves. "Or would you prefer anything else?"

"Anything else," says Ted. "Please, anything else. At least for a while."

"Great," says Trent, clenching a serviette for emotional support. "Perhaps then I could apologise for what happened at the Christmas party?"

"Oh, uh, sure?" says Ted, taken aback. "I didn't think we were actually ever going to talk about that again."

"We don't need to after today," says Trent.

Unless you want to, he doesn't add.

"It shouldn't have happened," he continues. "I think I must have accidentally been drinking from Dani's 'cheekied' punchbowl instead of the polite one. In any case, I forgot myself and I fear I've made things awkward between us."

Ted seems to be working through conflicting emotions. The lines between his brows deepen for a moment. His moustache twitches. He stares down at his coffee like it holds his response, then looks up at Trent.

"Not a worry, Bill Murray," says Ted, his face fixing itself into that same sad smile from earlier. "That night was pretty crazy, huh? Lot of emotions running wild. You don't have to apologise for anything. It was me too. I was like a helium balloon out of the hands of a careless child – just caught up in the atmosphere."

It might just be Ted trying to match Trent's lie, but it doesn’t mean it stings any less. Trent takes a sip of too-hot tea to cover his gloom and instead suddenly has to pretend that he hasn't just scalded his mouth.

"But, Trent, I will say this," says Ted in the most serious tone he's ever had directed at him, as Trent tries to play off the way he definitely just took off a layer of skin from his tongue. "I really like talking to you. As much as I think you like talking to me. I would hate for this to be something that gets in the way of that. Think we can at least promise to try our hand at being friends?"

"I think we could manage that," says Trent. He's almost able to ignore the agony he's in at the earnestness in Ted's voice. "After all, you know how I love our chats."

Ted smiles another real smile at that.

"Good, that's settled then." He lifts his drink. "To friendship moving forward."

"To friendship moving forward," Trent agrees, clinking his paper cup against Ted's, tears now forming in his eyes at the pain.

"Now, one friend to another, did you burn your mouth on that cup of Satan's swill just then?" asks Ted, to his credit, looking like he's trying his level best not to laugh. Trent can only nod. "Yeah, thought so. I'll go get you some ice."

It's still one of the better coffees he's ever gotten with someone.

Trent's mouth heals, as do things between Ted and him. Richmond has had an eventful start to the season with the arrival of Zava who even Trent finds himself moderately starstruck by. There's no denying the man is a football god and as a lifelong Richmond supporter, he can't help but be pleased with the string of victories that come with his place on the team. He does, however, note the way that Jamie seems to withdraw into himself and wonders that Ted hasn't seemed to notice. He thinks Roy does, though. Trent has realised that not much Jamie-related gets past Roy.

Ted's head seems to be elsewhere.

He considers it a moment of immense growth in his commitment to friendship with Ted when, at the opening of Sam's restaurant, Ted leaves with Rebecca's friend and he only stews on it for half an hour.

Sassy? Really? The woman Trent berated for making a mistake in turning Ted down is called Sassy?

Deciding jealousy isn't a good look on him, he decides to go home, and has all thoughts of Ted's romantic exploits pushed from his mind by the sight of Colin kissing someone outside of Sam's restaurant. Not just someone, though. A man.

Now there's a scoop. A scoop Trent would never share, not even in his days as a journalist. Hell, if the fucking Wonder Kid hadn't lost him his job, this would be the next thing that would. He would never out anyone. It was a hard line he'd drawn himself early in his career. After what he saw happen to Justin Fashanu growing up, he simply wouldn't do it. He wouldn't be part of that.

The idea of that happening to someone from Richmond, this group of people he's come to think of as family, is unthinkable. He hopes and prays he gets a chance to talk to Colin before something happens and the secret gets out. Colin wasn't exactly subtle with his choice of makeout spot.

He thanks the gay gods of football when he gets his chance in Amsterdam.

At first, there's part of him that really wants to find out what Ted's plans are for the evening. It's Museumnacht, of all nights, and all he wants to do is stay out late exploring every single one with Ted, who he imagines would be a great companion on a museum trip. Sure, he'd likely make a joke about every single painting, but Trent knows he would be genuinely curious about them too.

It really would be too much like a date, however, and so he resigns himself to the fact that the right thing to do is to spend the night seeing what the rest of the team gets up to. He watches, with amusement, the heated debate about what the plan for the evening should be. He even tries to unsuccessfully sell them on the idea of Museumnacht. But so far it seems like they're not going to make it much farther than the lobby of the hotel. It's only when Colin slips away from the rest of the pack that Trent realises what his evening in Amsterdam will be.

There's only one reason he could imagine Colin, usually in the thick of things, would want to separate himself from the pack. He's going somewhere he can be himself. And Trent knows that this is his chance to speak to and encourage him.

He realises, unfortunately too late, that following him to the club might not have been the best option. Colin looks genuinely terrified at seeing him there and Trent can't blame him. He doubts he could ever fully understand the level of paranoia Colin's daily life entails.

When he finally manages to calm the kid down enough to get him to sit down and talk over a couple of beers, the last thing he's expecting is for the conversation to be exactly what he needs to hear too. But Colin turns out to have quite the way with words.

"All I want," Colin explains, eyes filled with longing and wistfulness, "is for when we win a match, to be able to kiss my fella the same way the guys get to kiss their girls."

Trent smiles at that, thinking about a particular fella that he'd like to kiss after a big Richmond win.

"And I know we can't fix every ache inside of us," Colin continues. "But I shouldn't have to pretend it's not there either."

This, more than anything, shakes Trent to his core. His longing for Ted is an ache. One that he doesn't know if it's possible to fix, but he's given himself one Hail Mary in the form of a prearranged grand romantic gesture and by god if this kid hasn't just given him the courage to just go for it.

He could never regret this conversation with Colin, but after a somewhat failed attempt at sharing an historical titbit about Anne Frank, he can't help but wonder what a night in Amsterdam with Ted might have been like after all.

Some of the confidence regarding his new resolve to do the big ill-advised romantic gesture wanes a bit in the week after Amsterdam. Ted is so busy trying to find a team strategy that will work, that Trent is sure the last thing on his mind is his love life.

But then Trent sees it. In their match against Arsenal, he can see the pieces connecting. The team are doing it. They're doing total football. A week ago, they weren't doing anything close to it, but this week, here, at this match, they're doing it. They trust Ted that much that they were willing to try it. And not only try it – actually do it with their whole hearts.

It's the Lasso Effect at its full power. And they're going to fucking win the Premier League. He knows it now.

He has to tell Ted after the match. He can't contain his excitement. Ted's going to do it. He's going to fucking do it. And not because he's an amazing football manager. Not because he's a tactical genius.

No, it's because he's Ted Lasso, and he genuinely cares about what he's doing and the people who are doing it with him.

Christmas Eve, now only a week away, cannot come quickly enough.

***

Ted spends all of August trying to fend off questions about whether or not he's going to meet Isolated in Islington. But he wouldn't trade it for the world, because every time is a reminder that Henry is right there, at arm's reach. With him.

Ted's heart is heavy.

The handover at the end of the summer is the hardest one yet. But it's also somehow one of the better ones because of Trent.

He was nervous when Trent offered them a ride to the airport, but Henry was so excited about the idea and Ted was so worried about being alone afterwards that he agreed. And he's glad he did because it ends up being a great time, all things considered. In any case they manage to patch up things between them, and for Ted, that's monumental. He's willing to pretend that what happened between them was a mistake, as much as it hurts, if it means holding onto Trent as a friend.

Zava turns out to be both as impressive as advertised and a huge disappointment in the long run. It's wonderful to have a winning streak to their name – he knows after the disappointment of the Chelsea game, it's a relief for Rebecca. He can, unfortunately, see that it's getting to Jamie, but there's not much he can do about it. As far as team strategy goes, they've got a good thing going, and he can't shake it up for one player. Not without having to field interrogation from all sides including his fellow coaches, the press, Rebecca, and even Trent.

But then, he starts noticing the rest of his team slipping further and further back. He sees how their victories start paling next to their feeling of boredom out on the pitch. By the time they reach the West Ham game, his team is in dire straits, but Ted can't bring himself to focus enough to deal with it, because at the same time, he's accidentally spoken to Dr Jacob for the first time since his last marriage counselling session.

The West Ham match is a blur to Ted. Only three things stick out in his memory of it:

One, the generally sick feeling that came over him every time he thought about how Dr Jacob used to give him marriage advice, only to swoop in the minute his marriage was over.

Two, the anger he felt at Roy and Beard showing the team the footage of Nate tearing up the sign that's come to mean so much to them. It was the last thing the team needed and it made them play the worst match Ted's ever seen them play.

Three, the feeling of helplessness he felt, both at the way his team was playing, and at the way that this awful, unethical psychologist was now around his son far more than he was. That he was the one giving his son rides to soccer practice and helping him with his math homework.

His call with Michelle after the match offers some catharsis, but is ultimately not that helpful. He's exhausted, drawn, and all he wants to do is go to bed. Just as he's about to, however, he gets a call from Trent.

"Hey, Trent," he says, not really in the mood for any of his usual affectations.

"Hi, Ted," says Trent. "I've just managed to get Squish to bed, so I thought I would call and see how you're doing after the match today. We were watching. It looked brutal."

"Yeah, well, they saw your footage," says Ted, a little more biting than he means to be.

"Oh," says Trent. "Yes, I was wondering why they looked like they were out for blood. That explains it."

"Yeah," says Ted, voice still strained with the effort of not completely losing it. He's so angry and hurt and tired he could explode, but he doesn't want it to be at Trent. "Listen, Trent, I appreciate that you might still be trying to work the journalism out of your system, but the next time you find a big scoop that might affect the mental state of my players, I'd appreciate if you ran it by me first."

There's silence on the other end for a moment before Trent's voice comes back, smaller than Ted's ever heard it.

"I'm so sorry, Ted. I really am. And look, I know this doesn't excuse anything by any means, but by way of explanation, let me just say that I think I was trying to get you to feel as angry about the Nate situation as I am. I just… he cost me my career, you know? I liked being a journalist. It wasn't necessarily what I imagined I'd be doing with the rest of my life, but I was good at it. I was a bloody good sports journalist and all it took was one story for it all to fucking collapse."

"That wasn't entirely Nate's fault," says Ted, closing his eyes as though trying to prevent every thought he's currently having from leaving his head. "You didn't have to share that with me. I mean, I appreciate that you did. But you could direct a little of that anger my way."

Trent sighs deeply.

"You know that I can't."

Ted knows that that might be true. He rubs his eyes with his free hand.

"Look, Trent, I have to believe that people are able to be forgiven. I just have to. Because otherwise, when I get back to Henry, when I have to explain to him why I was out of his life for so long… I have to…"

It's the tipping point. He collapses onto the armchair behind him as huge undignified sobs wrack his body. He hates that he's crying like this. He hates that he's crying like this while Trent can hear it. It doesn't matter. There's nothing he can do to stop it at this point.

"Ted, Ted, listen to me," says Trent. "Your son loves you, okay? Whenever that boy isn't at your side looking up at you like you personally hung the sun, he's telling anyone who will hear that you're the coolest dad in the world. Whatever happens, I know that that child knows how much you love him, okay?"

Ted nods, but realises Trent can't hear him.

"I'm gonna hang up now," Ted says. "But it's not because you aren't making a great point. I just think half the battle is that I haven't had a decent night's sleep in over a week and I need to crash. I'll see you at work tomorrow."

"See you at work, Ted," says Trent. He sounds concerned.

Ted pulls himself together enough to put together two packs of shortbread, writing a short note in Trent's one.

Trent – thank you for your kindness last night. I needed to hear that. But I hope that you'll eventually find it in your heart to forgive too. It'll help you feel better too.

He ties it all together with a bit of ribbon he has left from his Christmas in July wrapping and the sunflower hair clasp that he still hasn't returned and leaves it on Trent's desk the next morning for when he comes in.

When Trent opens it and reads the note, he turns in his chair to make eye contact with Ted, smiles, and nods, and Ted feels one of the weights on his heart fall away.

Of course, with Zava leaving and the team having played backup the whole season so far, there's a lot of catch up to do. But it's a challenge that keeps Ted's mind on the game and not everywhere else. For a while, he finds himself able to disappear into managing the headspace of his team, Roy's ideas for stamina and speed training, Beard's best stabs at strategies for them to try.

The only exception to his new workflow is a fairly big scare in the form of reports of Henry bullying another classmate. And Ted doesn't quite know how to feel about the fact that it seems to resolve itself. By the time they talk, Henry seems to have the scope of what he's done wrong and has even apologised the kid for it. Did Michelle talk to Henry about it? Did Dr Jake? There's no way for Ted to know but there's not much more for Ted to add. The thought breaks his heart.

With difficulty, he decides to take it for what it is: a sign that his kid, for the time being, seems to be okay without him. Another weight drops from his heart.

He continues to ignore Henry's nagging about meeting Isolated in Islington. He doesn't have time to think about that. Instead, he decides to focus on the promise he's made to Henry, to the team, to himself: winning the whole thing.

It's in Amsterdam that everything starts coming together.

The so-called friendly match is a disaster and the only thing Ted can do for himself and the rest of the team to make it okay is to give them all a night to let loose.

Somehow, to Beard, this gets translated as "get Ted high", but Ted is so out of ideas at this point that he's willing to try anything. He almost doesn't try it when it's presented to him as a tea, even if it does bring back a fond memory of Trent trying and failing to play it cool after burning his mouth on the foul stuff. Eventually though, Ted decides if he's going to give himself half a chance at anything new, he needs to try something new, so he downs the tea and heads to the front desk to ask about the nearby museums.

He ends up at the Van Gogh museum, specifically in front of the famous "Sunflowers" painting, just staring. He's seen it plenty before, in prints and in digital pictures. He didn't realise, seeing it up close, that it would be possible to see the individual brush strokes. He alternates between being pulled so closely into the details that all he sees is paint in various shades of yellow, green, and blue, to looking at the whole thing and feeling himself trembling at a brand new thought.

He's grown up with sunflowers his whole life. Adorned on any bit of kitsch to do with Kansas. The great big fields he'd drive past on road trips. The ones his mother grew in the backyard and always had in a vase in the kitchen. The ones on his father's grave. The one or two in Michelle's wedding bouquet. It was his state flower, part of growing up in Kansas.

So why, in his mind, do sunflowers only belong to Trent now?

His thoughts are interrupted by a museum guide who shares a Van Gogh quote with him. And, as beautiful as it is, it's his next statement that really sends Ted reeling.

"When you find beauty, you find inspiration. When you know you're doing what you're meant to do, you have to try."

Of course, he realises this applies to his team, and absolutely tonight is about figuring out what the next step there is, but…

But Trent had looked like a sunflower earlier, with his bright yellow shirt and peppery dark hair. So beautiful. And Ted knows he could keep pretending that he doesn’t want him with his whole heart. It would kill him, but he knows he could do it. But there's a part of him, a far bigger part, that wants to give it one more try. That kiss hadn't been nothing. And he owes it to himself to see what could be. To take his own medicine and believe for once.

He accepts the notebook from the guide and decides to make his way to the glimmer of home he's hoping to find in the Yankee-Doodle Burger Barn. As looming as it all is, he can think about Trent in a bit. Right now he has to fix his team.

Eight hours and one placebo-induced drug trip later, Ted has it. At least, he thinks he does. He doesn’t know if it will work – Beard will know more about that than he does – but it's something. And another weight drops from his heart.

He loses the final one a week later.

Total football turns out to be a lot trickier to implement than Ted initially thought it would be. He knew it would be a lot of work to some extent, but he thought that because it was designed to get the team looser it wouldn't be the monumental challenge it's turning out to be. But here they are, playing against Arsenal, still struggling to work together the way he imagined.

But Jamie – proving once again to Ted that his football career will be long and storied – comes to the rescue at half time, explaining where the team is going wrong in the simplest way possible. Ted could absolutely smother him in a hug right now, but he thinks he'll leave that to Roy. He's noticed that he and Jamie seem to be even cosier since Amsterdam and lord help the poor soul that interferes with something Roy Kent cares about.

They still lose, but the second half is absolutely beautiful to watch. The team play off of each other seamlessly. They still seem to be finding their feet, but Ted can see that they finally get it. And that they're having fun. And crowd is having fun watching them have fun.

He's never been prouder to be their manager.

The absolute cherry on top of his success sundae is when Trent quite literally tears into the corridor after the match, looking for him specifically.

"Ted!" he says as he barges through the doors. "It's going to work."

"Great," says Ted, confused as to what could get the cool and catlike Trent Crimm all riled up like a jackrabbit in spring. "What is?"

"Total football." Ted is still confused. "And I'll tell you why. The Lasso Way."

This causes even more confusion. He's only ever heard The Lasso Way used derisively. Used in a biting tone when he does things a little differently or something he tries doesn't work out. He's never heard it said so excitedly with such optimism and hope.

"You haven't switched tactics in a week," Trent continues.

He definitely has. This whole week has been nothing but a new tactic.

"I haven't?" Ted asks, still baffled.

"No! You've done this over three seasons."

Oh. Maybe it was meant to be a little bit derisive then.

"I have?"

"Yes," Trent explains, "by slowly building a club-wide culture of trust and support through thousands of imperceptible moments, all leading to their inevitable conclusion – total football."

Ted tries to believe himself a humble man, one not prone to basking in praise, but something about the way Trent is talking about him, about his achievements, about the achievements of the team, makes Ted want to live in this moment forever.

Trent, Ted realises, is proud of him. Is truly, one hundred percent rooting for him. And Ted feels the final weight on his heart drop as he soars away with it.

"Well how about that," he says, mostly responding to Trent's excited babble, but also to this new feeling of weightlessness and just… happiness that he hasn't felt in months.

And then Trent does the absolute cutest little giddy gesture and Ted knows beyond a shadow of any doubt, he could never be more in love with anyone than he is with Trent right now.

Trent exits the corridor, leaving behind two coaches bemused and one absolutely besotted.

"What a fucking dork," says Roy, not without his own brand of affection.

"Yeah," shrugs Ted, aware of how his feelings are probably plastered across his face, "but he's our dork."

He doesn't miss the knowing look the other two coaches give each other.

Henry calls him later that night to discuss the match.

"It was so cool, dad!" he says. "Do you think Jamie and Roy will teach me how it works the next time I'm there?"

"I'm sure they'd love to, Bud," says Ted, heart so full it could burst.

"Awesome!" says Henry. "Are you still sure you can't come here for Christmas?"

"I'm sure," says Ted, a little pang marring his happiness for a moment. "I have the big Boxing Day match. But that's what Christmas in July was for, remember?"

"Yeah," says Henry, the disappointment in his voice palpable, but as soon as he looks glum, he perks up again. "Hey, that means you can go meet Isolated in Islington!"

"Oh, Bud, no," says Ted. "I can't do that."

He can't do that because it doesn't matter who this Isolated in Islington is, he's got his heart set on Trent. He can't imagine anyone else holding a candle to him, no matter how convinced his son is that this mystery person is his soulmate. He's not ready to tell Henry everything about Trent though, and therein lies the pickle.

"Why not?" says Henry. "Dad, you only get a chance like this once. This person sounds so perfect for you. Can't you just go and see?"

"Look, Kiddo, I really want to be with you on this one," says Ted with a sigh, "but it wouldn't be fair to whoever I'm meeting. I couldn't give them what they're looking for. I'm not saying no because I don't think it's a beautiful idea. I need you to trust that I'm saying no for a good reason, okay? One that you might not understand right now, but I hope you will soon."

Henry doesn't respond. He looks sad, then angry and when Michelle takes the phone from him after a few minutes of pained silence, she also looks concerned.

"He'll come around, Ted," she says. "There's a lot going on at the moment and I think it's just a lot for him to process. Give him a day to cool off and I'm sure he'll be back to his normal self."

But the next day and the day after that when Ted calls, he just gets an apologetic Michelle.

Ted feels some of the weights return.

They all return a few days later, on December 23rd, when Michelle calls him in tears.

"Ted," she says. "Ted, I'm so sorry. Jake took him to the airport and signed him in. He says he got a message from me, but it seems like Henry sent it. Apparently he's safe and I'm on the flight right behind him but oh god."

Ted is about to throw up. He's never heard Michelle this panicked. Ever.

"Hey, it's alright, I'm here," he says, trying to reassure her. "What's going on?"

"Henry's booked himself onto a flight to the UK. Jake helped sign him in."

And then Ted does throw up.

Final Chapter

#tedependent #tedtrent #ted x trent #trent x ted #trent crimm #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic

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