#john wingsnight

[fanficfanattic]

My old boss finally watched the show and the only discussion we had on it was her asking two questions:

1) Who is the bloody fan in the finale?

2) Should I know these people?

[seahorsepencils]

Chekhov’s Soccer Ball (Russian: Чехов футбольный мяч). A central tenet of successful dramatic structure. Chekhov's Soccer Ball dictates that if you introduce a soccer ball in season 1 of a series, by the end of the final season, it must hit John Wingsnight in the face.

See also: Chekhov's John Wingsnight.

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

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[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Twelve

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes. 

A/N: sorry this took so long. but it's here now. HAPPY CHRISTMAS BITCHES!

Word Count: 10k+

Chapter Twelve:

“Darling!” Rebecca called as you and Roy approached the restaurant. She stood outside next to a shorter man (obviously), who could only be John Wingsnight. 

Roy stayed back as you sped forward, stretching out your arms for an embrace until you and Rebecca finally met in the middle. “Why does Roy look more pissed off than usual?” Rebecca whispered in your ear quickly, as the men shook hands beside you awkwardly. 

“Don’t ask,” you whispered back, but she only squeezed you harder in response. “I’ll tell you later,” you added painfully. 

“Fine,” she muttered quickly, before the two of you finally parted. She put on a stellar smile. “Shall we head inside?” You nodded, and the four of you entered the restaurant together. 

John reached the table first, and slid a chair out for Rebecca. She took it graciously, before he turned to look at you. “It’s so nice to finally meet some of Rebecca’s good friends,” he said. He sounded posh– Richmond posh. You smiled as nicely as you could, but Roy’s presence close behind you was practically burning a hole through your skin. 

You went to grab a seat opposite Rebecca, but was abruptly cut off by Roy. He reached out his arm and slid out the chair before you could. You hit his eye as he waited for you to sit down, and when you did, you felt so overexposed that you could hardly stand it. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, as Roy tucked you in safely. He growled gently in response, and the four of you settled in for a long fucking night. 

As soon as you could, drinks were ordered in excess. Small talk ensued, but it was made up mostly of Rebecca whittling on about your past placement at the club, and all of the drama that happened during your year there. Next to you, Roy stayed silent unless spoken to. It was clear he wasn’t thrilled about this, but even more so after the ordeal on the drive over. 

Truth be told, as much as you’d been looking forward to this evening, you wanted nothing more than to pack it in and be alone with Roy. You needed to address so much, and talk honestly for once in your fucking lives. That was only made more difficult when John piped in with new questions. As soon as she could, Rebecca brought up your article from the Independent. 

“Oh, fantastic!” John exclaimed in response. “I read that article, by the way– the one about you, Roy.” Roy tried and failed to look enthusiastic, as John turned to you. “Brilliantly written, you absolutely deserved to win.”

You smiled. “Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.”

“So, is that how this happened?” John asked, pointing at you and Roy playfully. 

You and Roy turned to each other at the same time. Both of you looked like deers in headlights, as the entire point of your double-date lie was finally put to the test. 

“Yes,” you said quickly. “Yes, exactly.” Stupidly, idiotically, you’d never fucking thought about what story you’d have to explain; the story of how you started dating. Roy looked too relaxed for your liking, so you decided to involve him. “Isn’t that right, Roy?”

Roy shot daggers at you immediately, but they were only perceived by you. He recomposed himself as he turned to Rebecca and John, but before a single word left his mouth, his hand found yours upon the table top. You inhaled deeply as his fingers wrapped around your own. 

“She bugged me so much about the fucking article that it was inevitable,” he said lowly. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

John laughed heartily, raising his glass at Roy happily. Rebecca choked on her starter. You’d momentarily stopped thinking as soon as Roy’s hand had touched yours, and had now gone temporarily blind from him calling you babe. 

Roy squeezed your hand gently, and your senses refreshed like lightning. “Y-yes,” you stuttered quickly. “Totally inevitable.”

“Well, how delightful,” John said sweetly, before he turned towards Rebecca. “Rebecca speaks very highly of you, I’ve found.”

“I’d bloody hope so,” you let out, getting rid of some of your pent up anxiety. Rebecca laughed, fully recovered from her choking fit. Roy’s fingers were still latched over yours, and you found yourself not hating it after the initial shock. 

“And you, Roy!” John continued. “Congrats on the pundit gig, by the way.”

“John is a big football fan,” Rebecca said, and John nodded enthusiastically. 

“Here we fucking go,” Roy growled under his breath. You rearranged your fingers quickly, so that you could squeeze his hand reassuringly. He turned to you gently, flicking his eyes over your encouraging face. 

You knew this entire night was out of his comfort zone, including the whole fake dating ordeal on top. Getting Roy out to dinner like this was hard enough as it was, but adding this play-pretend must have had him reeling. It was tough for you, as well, especially after your almost confession in the car beforehand. All the two of you had to do was hold on for dear life for another few hours, and then it’d be over. 

“It was a massive coincidence, actually,” you piped up suddenly, turning back to John and Rebecca. “I’d had this small nagging voice in my head that kept saying how good a pundit Roy could be, enough for me to annoy him over text, even. Then, a few weeks later, he was on the telly! It was weird, honestly.”

“That wasn’t a fucking coincidence,” Roy said sternly. “I’d had those Sky producers down my throat for a month, but only bothered to reply after you mentioned what a good idea it was.”

You squinted at him, shocked. “What?”

“I became a pundit because of you.” 

Rebecca’s mouth upturned into a sly smile. John caught her eye in confusion, but still looked happy to simply be there– probably because he was in Roy’s presence. You struggled to find the right words to say, as your mind catapulted all your thoughts to ricochet off your skull. 

The only word you could physically get out was “Oh.” Your wide eyed stare stayed on Roy for a few seconds more, until you quickly looked at the table, trying to compute what you’d just been told. “Right.” You added. 

“You were right, too,” Rebecca said gently, and you caught her eye. “Roy does make a rather entertaining pundit.”

“And that’s an understatement,” John added, cheesing from ear to ear. 

“Yes, he does,” you said, agreeing with Rebecca, but still hesitating over your muddled thoughts. “Will you excuse me for a moment? That wine has gone to my head,” you let out, alongside a breathy laugh to break the tension. 

Roy fingers separated from yours, and as you walked to the bathroom, you felt utterly alone. Maybe it was the lack of his touch, just in those initial seconds after having it. Maybe it was the realisation that once again he’d done something that you’d suggested, just for you. There was no reason for you to get mad about it. Being a pundit was more than the article; it was more public, more personal, more professional. He wouldn’t have done it all unless he’d accepted it himself, and that was the truth of it. 

Still, hearing that you’d been his reason for going ahead with the gig was warming. As you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, your eyes were glassy. Your cheeks felt hot, and it wasn’t just from the wine. Your fingers were clammy, not only from your nerves, but from having someone hold them so tightly for the last ten minutes– all of these factors added up to be caused by one man only; Roy fucking Kent. 

He was so different to you. So stubborn, so grumpy, so unapproachable, yet it had been so easy for you to cut through his layer of steel and get to the other side of his personality. Gentle, caring, and so unapologetically honest that you could hardly believe it. From the way Keeley and Rebecca– even the fucking football team, too– had reacted when Roy had steadily started opening up to you, you knew this wasn’t an ordinary occurrance. They knew him from a day to day perspective, whereas your knowing had transcended the walls of the Dogtrack after only a few months around each other. 

Innately, a switch flicked on in your brain. It’d been over a year of this dynamic. Even including those three months of silence, you’d still thought of each other on a daily basis. Something had to give, and that something was you. This was your opportunity to make yourself abundantly clear– this stupid, idiotic fake dating situation. This was the trial shift, and you just had to show up. 

You washed your hands quickly, and as you did it cemented this shift within you. As you opened the door to the bathroom and emerged back into the restaurant, you held your head high. You walked in your heels like you’d been walking in them your entire life, and when you saw the back of Roy’s head, your heart swelled. 

As sat back down at the table, and impulsively leaned into Roy. He sensed you, and changed his posture to accommodate your own. “Sorry about that,” you said, laughing at yourself slightly. “It’s not often that I drink wine anymore.”

“Get a different drink if you want, darling,” Rebecca said. 

“I think I will,” you agreed, before you took the plunge. Gently, you leaned into Roy, clinging onto his bicep softly. “When the waitress comes around again can you grab her for me, please?” you asked.

Roy tensed slightly beneath your touch, but you could feel him relax as he peered into your eyes. “Alright,” he said lowly. “Beer?” he asked. 

You nodded with a smile. It was sweet that he knew exactly what you wanted. 

Your main courses were uneventful, but tense. You ate in happy splendour, chatting about whatever— you wouldn’t be able to recount the conversation in any state, purely because you were hyper aware of Roy next to you the entire time. Rebecca’s side-eye stares tickled your bare skin. John’s obliviousness kept you grounded. 

It was funny, wasn’t it? The moment that you and Roy had permission to fully jump, to indulge, you found yourselves in a situation where touching the other felt incredibly odd. As much as this entire situation was exciting for both of you, you found yourself focusing on the fact this was all fake– the relationship, the meal, and… the first time you allowed yourself to feel. 

Every hand touch and shoulder bump was being watched clearly. Was it all real if this double date was a lie? Was it all real even if you and Roy weren’t actually together? 

“Darling,” Rebecca said softly, and you almost jumped out of your skin when you came back to reality. You’d utterly zoned out to the point where you hadn’t even noticed your dessert was already in front of you. “Are you alright?” she whispered across the table. 

You swallowed uncomfortably. “Yes,” you said quickly, before picking up your fork. “Sorry.”

“So,” John started, chewing on a mouthful of praline. “Pluto Press, right?” 

Your eyes widened, your heart plummeted into your stomach. You’d been avoiding talking about your job with anyone for the past few months. You swallowed, and put on a smile in panic. “That’s the one,” you said, but the awkwardness practically seeped out of you. 

“What’s it like in publishing? I’ve always been curious,” John asked, leaning in slightly, so that you couldn’t fucking escape. 

“It’s… well, it’s…” You were hyper aware of Rebecca sitting opposite you, and Roy sat to your left. You felt the ex-football Captain stiffen next to you. Concern pooled between you, and he shifted himself to face you more so, curiosity prevalent on his brow. 

You looked up at him, lost for words. Innately, you let yourself crumble. Perhaps it was time to tell them that you had your reservations about work. You sucked in a breath. “At first, it was a dream,” you said, turning to John with a faint smile. “I suppose it always is when it comes to the job you’ve wanted since you were a kid.” You turned to Roy again, meeting his eye. “Right?” you whispered. 

Roy nodded gently before you. He had football on his mind, no doubt. You could see it in his gaze, you could sense him envisioning the green of the Dogtrack. 

“A few months down the line, though…” you started, and gently turned to Rebecca. She was looking at you with a signature arched eyebrow, waiting for you to spill your guts. “It’s been… different, I suppose.”

“Different?” Rebecca questioned. 

Roy twisted towards you even more. “Different how?” 

Different, as in, I fucking hate it. That’s what you wanted to say, but saying that to the two people who gave you the opportunity to have the position? Hell fucking no. 

You opened your mouth, trying to decide upon what words to use, but you never got the chance to say them. A woman sidled up to Roy and threw you all from your conversation. Rebecca’s stare snapped upon her like a lethal panther. Roy perked a brow up at her, a subtly seething look on his face. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she said, and her Chelsea or Kensington accent was the first thing you noticed. “I just had to come over or I’d hate myself for it. You’re Roy Kent, aren’t you?” She was beautiful in a way that reminded you of the girls who used to bully you in school– in your mind, this was exactly what some of them would have grown up to look like. Blonde, big-boobed, high-fashioned, rich. 

Your face dropped immediately, overcome by a feeling you’d never actually experienced before. Your chest felt tight, your fists balled in your lap, your shoulders squared off defensively. You turned to Rebecca, and the frown on her face only added to the grim feeling you held inside. 

Roy growled at the woman in response, not just as confirmation, but definitely from annoyance. Who the hell interrupted someone during dinner? At a fucking restaurant? 

She ignored his hostility, instead opting to jump up and down abruptly. “Oh! I knew it. My father and brother love you, especially from your Chelsea days. Can I…” she said. As she did, she leant in even closer, bridging the gap between her and Roy, until he was forced to look up at an almost ninety degree angle. “Can I get a photo?” 

Your stomach dropped at the shift in her tone of voice. She was flirting. Suddenly, the feeling inside you made perfect fucking sense–

Jealousy. You were jealous. 

Rebecca went to protest first, but you beat her to it. You leaned forward, and wrapped your fingers around Roy’s bicep defensively. “Excuse me,” you said strongly. “We’re in the middle of a meal, and you’re very much interrupting us.” 

Roy’s muscles relaxed beneath your grip, and you only took that as a sign to hold your ground. The woman before you was taken aback, obviously not used to mere commoners having a pop at her about her wrong behaviour. She let out a nervous laugh, tilting back slightly as she peered down at you from above. Instinctively, you caught her eye and glared– glared for your damn life. 

“Uh.” The noise burst from her lips like a breath she hadn’t meant to exhale. Like a crack in her exterior. “I’m sorry– what are you supposed to be?” 

You saw red, and stood impulsively. You’d never wanted to throw a punch more in your life, nor had you ever had the desire to do so in front of a restaurant full of people, but something entirely new had come over you– and Roy was at the centre of it.

You pointed at her as soon as you were at her eye level, leaning over Roy beneath you. “Listen here, you little–”

“Alright!” Roy burst from beneath you, putting himself between you and the blonde. His arm twisted behind him and found your waist easily. He pulled you into his back, erecting himself as a literal human shield, in every sense. “That’s fucking enough of that,” he muttered, looking the blonde in the eyes. 

Suddenly, she switched back to something more honeyed. She puffed her chest out, showing off her cleavage even more so, and batted her mink eyelashes at Roy above her. He bought none of it, of course. It was Roy, and he could always see the bad in people. Mostly, it was a hindrance, but sometimes… It worked. 

“I’ll give you a photo to fuck off,” he said candidly. 

You scowled behind Roy, trying to adjust yourself to the point where you weren’t utterly flush against the wool of his jumper. The blonde made a guttural noise of offence, however, which definitely pleased you somewhere deep inside. 

“God, don’t fucking bother then,” she squeaked at Roy. You thought that was the end of it, until more drivel fell from her lips. “You need to keep your dog on a leash.”

You froze, but not from what she’d just said. You froze, because Roy’s blood immediately turned to ice. You felt the muscles in his back contracting, trying and failing to shut down his inevitable jump to anger. You could imagine the robotic expression on his face, the sharpness of his jaw, the straightness of his eyebrows. 

This was Roy Kent when he was too angry to function. This was Roy Kent from the fucking football pitch.

Your gut lurched when his grip on your waist loosened, and you knew you had to intervene. Quickly, you slipped beneath Roy’s arm and shoved yourself between him and the blonde. You leaned back against Roy’s chest forcefully, and to no surprise he’d planted himself to the ground like a fucking tree. The blonde crossed her arms, shooting you with a shitty looking smirk that was supposed to make you feel hard done by, but you actually didn’t care. 

You just wanted her to leave Roy alone.

“I think it’s time for you to leave now,” you said calmly. “Before you embarrass yourself even more.” You softened your expression, but not by much. The blonde faltered subtly, dropping her arms to her sides as she became self-conscious of how many stares in her direction littered the restaurant. 

“I was going already,” she said, flustered, but not before she caught Roy’s eye again. “You footballers are always too fucking complicated.”

You and Roy watched her clip away in her heels, muttering to herself the entire way back to her table. A tense silence filtered across the restaurant, until all of a sudden, the hubbub came back. People went back to their meals, your heart settled in your chest, and Roy– his hand found yours instantly. You turned back to the table, shivering with every swipe he gave your knuckles, and caught Rebecca’s eye. 

You’d almost forgot her and John were still fucking here. 

Rebecca cleared her throat. “Shall we get the bill?”

John kissed Rebecca goodbye, but not after shaking Roy’s hand and holding onto his wrist for just a moment too long. You let out a pent up breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, as your party of four decreased to three. Rebecca turned back to you and Roy with an expectant face.

“So?” she said, eyes gleaming.

You hunched your shoulders up to your ears and smiled awkwardly. “He’s… nice!” you said, and for once you couldn’t find any other word to describe someone, but you tried your best. “He’s personable, and financially stable…” you trailed off.

“But?” Rebecca asked, sensing some trepidation. 

“Well,” you started, turning to Roy for back-up. 

He let out a sigh, growling subtly. “He’s fine!” he exclaimed. “And fine is good, fine is safe, but I guess it all comes down to why the fuck someone like that deserves you.” He said strongly. “You deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been been struck by fucking lightning.” 

Rebecca and your speechlessness was apparent, as the two of you glued your eyes onto Roy. You could feel him buzzing next to you, and heat radiated off him in waves.

“Don’t you dare settle for fine, just because it’s easy.” Roy scrunched his face passionately, before clocking eyes with you next to him. His face softened, and his expression resorted back to something more unbothered. “Or do,” he backtracked. “Do whatever you want.”

He shrugged, and you scoffed abruptly, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop yourself from chuckling more. Rebecca was taken aback. She had this golden look on her face that you could relate to heavily. You’d had that look a thousand times before, when Roy had done something to completely subvert your expectations. He was right, though, as much as Rebecca probably wanted to object. He was right, and you were glad that he’d said it the way it should be.

The sound of Rebecca’s heels disappeared into the distance, as you and Roy walked back along the river. It was cold. The temperature had dropped profusely as November set in, and you could see your breath every time you managed to exhale. That was just it– breathing around Roy tonight had become some sort of manual chore, alongside every other normal function that you could usually do in a heartbeat. 

Unsaid words flickered between the two of you as you continued strolling; past Roy’s Jeep, further down river, until you reached the small side streets around Richmond Green. It was a comfortable silence, but far from a calm one. You and Roy had thoughts so loud that it was a miracle you couldn’t decipher the chatter in each other’s brains. 

Thinking back to the car ride, the stares, the feeling in your gut, all of it– you knew something had to be said. But, you simply didn’t know how to put it all into words. Perhaps Roy was suffering the same, as his mouth stayed glued shut. 

Approaching the other side of the green, your eyes settled on the Crown and Anchor. Ted and Beard’s stomping ground was lively, and you slowed down to peer through the windows. Twinkling lights rounded each frame, shining onto the people inside. Beers were half drunk, locals chattered and chortled, and Mae stood in her rightful place behind the bar. 

You smiled. “I wonder if Ted and Beard are in.” Your heart felt warm. 

“Ted lives just up there,” Roy said, pointing to a side street beyond the pub. “He made me tea, at the end of last season.”

“Hm,” you said. “That was before the last game, wasn’t it?” 

Roy nodded next to you slowly. “Stopped the twat from getting hit by a cab. He’d had one too many pints.”

You let out a gentle breath, smiling as you pictured the scene. Neither of you made an attempt to walk inside, or further down the road. You simply stayed glued to your spots, and you thought you knew why. This was nice. Stood beside one another, recovering from that tension you’d both had at the restaurant. But– this was safe. You were both avoiding addressing what you truly wanted to; 

What would come of this?

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling that you had to pull off the bandaid. “Listen…” You turned to face him. “Roy–”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, lowly. “I know what you’re gonna say.”

You swallowed away your words. “Okay.”

Roy’s chest expanded as he sucked in as much air as he possibly could, and let it all out of his nose. He smiled. “I like this,” he croaked. “I like things the way they are.” Your heart sunk ever so slightly, but you were thankful he wasn’t yet finished, so you didn’t have to speak. “I like you and me hanging out, and talking football, and just– I don’t fucking know– this.” 

You didn’t understand him fully, and you had a feeling that Roy didn’t understand himself either. Neither of you knew what you wanted precisely, and that was easy to see. 

Panic set in on Roy’s face. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just– I just fucking–” You stopped him by placing a gentle hand on his chest. 

You attempted to rationalise what he was saying. Maybe this was for the best. Maybe keeping things like this, platonic, friendly, whatever the fuck word you could use, was for the best. It was just like that blonde girl back at the restaurant had said; footballers were complicated, and you didn’t like complicated, even if it was with Roy.

“I do, too,” you said, reassuring him. “Like this, I mean. I like this, too.” You smiled, but it felt sad. 

Roy exhaled softly, finally landing on words you could both understand. “I fuck things up, sometimes,” he said lowly. “I don’t want to fuck up things with you.”

An abundance of thoughts trickled from the deep crevices of your brain. Ones that wanted to yell at Roy to let himself be happy, to let himself do things that he wanted, to not hold himself back. The look on his face showed you just how hard he’d thought about it all. It was the same look that had graced his face for most of the meal– he’d been thinking about this conversation all night. 

You had, too. You’d adopted the psyche of someone who knew that she wanted this. Him. And you’d thought that Roy had wanted the same thing, too, considering the immense build up you’d both experienced. You were certain you hadn’t imagined it, certain that he was ready to give in alongside you, but evidently…

You’d been wrong.

And being wrong was okay, especially when your relationship with Roy was on the line. 

You shrugged away the question in your brain of how a fake date, that lasted less than three hours, had utterly changed his mind after months. You bit away the urge to ask him why. Roy’s thoughts weren’t yours to divulge; they were his, and he’d made up his mind. That was something you had to take with grace. 

“Okay,” you whispered. It hurt to say, it hurt to accept, but you weren’t about to become someone that got angry when someone you liked denied you. You took a small step back, and smiled in an attempt to hide how gutted you felt. “Okay, Roy,” you said, stronger this time. It cemented it all.

It was done, and you had to be okay with it, or risk losing him altogether. 

As the end of November hit, Roy became used to his routine. He’d film Soccer Saturday four days a week live, and one day a week for pre recorded segments that were played during highlights. He got up at seven in the morning, sharp, sometimes going for a run when it wasn’t too blisteringly cold, but those mornings had been few and far between as temperatures hit zero. Winter hadn’t yet arrived, but it bloody felt like it.

He’d have a coffee, and don his suit, before jumping his Jeep to the studio. On the way, a mere two minutes into his drive, he’d pass your flat. It was customary for him to glance to the left as he passed, always, but the thoughts that hit him alongside were something he wished would stop. 

That look on your face, the one from that night– it haunted him. You haunted him. 

Through every fault of his own, he was grief stricken. If you’d asked Roy a few weeks before the meal if he was ready for this, for you, for what could be, he wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. But that night, everything had shifted for him. 

The way Rebecca had glanced between you and him made his gut coil, and he knew it was bloody obvious that you both had shared affections. The feeling that you both harboured could’ve been seen from fucking space, he’d bet. But, then it all went downhill. That blonde girl, the one with the giant rack, and even bigger nose to butt in your evening together, had stumped him. 

Up until that moment, Roy was accustomed to knowing when his anger would jump out. He could feel it coming on, sense it raging within him, but when she’d talked down to the likes of you– it had felt uncontrollable. Roy was a violent man; he was no stranger to throwing a punch to someone who deserved it, and he was content living that way. Just not around you. He didn’t like that side of him when you were near. He didn’t want to fight or kick or punch his way out of an uncomfortable situation when you were next to him. 

That, and Roy had felt the unmistakable struggle of something else for practically half his life. It was nagging, and made his chest hurt. Those thoughts of self-loathing, of exposure, of isolation, were something so ingrained that he’d never thought they would be a problem when it came to actually being happy. But, they were. They really fucking were. 

The truth was, Roy Kent didn’t want to drag you– marvellous, intelligent, too-good-for-him you– into his nightmare of a life. Full of uncertainty, or unfulfilled self-worth, of all of it. 

So, that was that. 

You continued working, but reluctantly. Thoughts of Roy pelted your mind, utterly impossible to ignore. You didn’t have time to ponder the possibility of leaving Pluto Press, or doing something different, not when your workload was stacked high. The beginning of December brought buzz about Christmas, but you hardly felt festive. Roy was working hard over at Sky, as were the boys at Richmond. You still kept up with them all, and getting updates from Sam was practically routine now. 

As you jumped off the tube at Richmond after a busy week, your phone buzzed to reveal another text from Sam, but what he’d written made you stop in your tracks. 

Forgot to tell you. Jamie Tartt is back. He started training again today. 

You flashed back to the ordeal from a few months prior, when Sam had stormed off the pitch after seeing Ted at the pub with the ex-Man City superstar. You knew that Ted would have made it clear about bringing Tartt back to the guys, but that didn’t stop you from feeling uncertain. You wanted to think that Jamie had turned a new leaf, but your gut still coiled at the thought of him back at the club. 

Perhaps you were insane, or over-tired, or still reeling after your fake date, but you changed your course home and headed for the Dogtrack without hesitation. Tartt needed to know what was what, and you didn’t care being the person to do that. You imagined it would be harder for Ted to do so, or the guys themselves after all that he’d done last season.

You stormed through the doors off the car park, navigating the corridors down to the lower level, until you stomped your way through the tunnel to the pitch. You launched the door open quickly, not stopping to wave off the confused stares from Ted, Beard and Nate at the edge of the pitch. The guys ran around on the grass, finishing up their final game of their practice. You cut it all short as you propelled your way onto the cold, damp ground. Isaac was the first to stop and stare, whacking Colin on his back to make him aware of your presence too. The trickle of twenty pairs of eyes headed your way immediately, as you cut across Dani and Bumbercatch without a word, headed for one player in particular: number nine, Jamie fucking Tartt.

“Hey!” you exclaimed to him, and a handful of players flinched. 

Jamie whipped his stare away from the ball at his feet, and slowed to a confused stop as you approached him.  “Hey…” he said smally, utterly boggled at your presence. You stopped in front of him, brows furrowed sternly, as you tried to adopt Roy’s resting bitch face. “What’re you–?”

You cut him off by jabbing your pointer finger into his chest. He stepped back once, and rubbed the spot you’d hit him in. “You,” you said strongly.

Jamie’s face warped into concern. “Me?” he said, and his Mancunian accent hit your ears for the first time in several months. You prepared yourself, and even further blocked out the questioning looks that littered the pitch. 

“See this team?” You gestured to the guys quickly. “They’ve worked really fucking hard this season, after the relegation.”

“Okay?” Jamie squeaked out. 

“I’m not questioning Ted’s decision to bring you back,” you continued, holding your ground. “But, know this, Tartt.” You said his name like Roy would, with subtle disdain, with a strength behind it that communicated you were serious. “Being back here is a privilege, not a right, and you need to know that.”

Jamie’s confusion disappeared instantly. His face softened, and was replaced with something resembling guilt. It was a look you’d never seen him wear before, but one that you welcomed in that moment. He needed to know that things wouldn’t be like last time. He needed to know that people like you gave a shit. 

Jamie placed his hands on his hips, and nodded at the ground. “Okay,” he said lowly, before meeting your eye. You raised your brows at him, perhaps in warning. He breathed out quickly. “This is a privilege, not a right,” he repeated to you. 

“Good.” You nodded, and smiled just a little. “Welcome back.” 

Tartt nodded at you in acknowledgement, and you stepped back to show you were done. The guys shuffled behind you, muttering to themselves as you swivelled on your heels and headed back the way you came. When you looked at the various faces around you, Sam was the only one who was properly smiling. He knew you’d done it for him, for all of them. 

Beard hit Ted’s shoulder quickly, and the Texan jumped forward abruptly, until he walked beside you. “All okay, Writer?” he asked, and you smiled wider.

“Sorry for the interruption.”

“Oh, no bother,” Ted said. “Though, perhaps a heads up would have been appreciated.”

You laughed gently. “Noted. Won’t happen again, Coach, I promise.”

Ted laid his hand on your shoulder, and his confused expression turned to gold. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” you said softly. 

“Got any holiday plans?” Ted asked, as the two of you reached the edge of the pitch. You turned back to the guys and practice resumed. 

You shook your head. “Not really. With how busy the office is around Christmas, there’s no point in me going home for it. I’ll probably have to work between Christmas and the New Year.”

Ted hummed in understanding. “Same as us, for sure. We’ve got a match on Boxing Day.”

You hummed in response, as yourself and Ted looked slightly sunken after your small catch up. You’d always spent Christmas with your family, so it would be odd not doing so this year. You tried to think of the perks, though– a pub roast on the day, a drink with Mae at the bar, and an early night before the match and your inevitable workload afterwards. 

Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. At least, that’s what you were telling to yourself. 

“Hey!” Sam called from the pitch, jogging over to you and Ted cheerily. “If you have no plans for Christmas day, Mr Higgins is hosting all of Richmond's overseas players. I know that a good few of us are going this year.” Sam smiled, and you couldn’t help but smile back. 

“Do you reckon it would be okay for me to join?” you asked. 

Sam shrugged. “You are a part of Richmond, and you are away from your home. I do not see why not.”

“Very good point well made, Sam,” Ted said softly. Your heart swelled in your chest.

“Okay.” You nodded. “I’ll come.” 

Sam leaned forward and gently grabbed your forearm, squeezing slightly as his fingers coiled around you. He got in close to you. “Thank you,” he whispered, then pulled back and sent you a knowing look. “You are too good to us.” You scoffed to yourself, just from a lack of how to react. 

As Sam jumped back and headed towards the team, he sent you one final glowing review from home: “We all miss you around here!” he exclaimed, before fully rejoining the guys. 

You gulped back your feelings, the hurt, the want, all of it. If you’d allowed yourself to speak back, all your walls would have crumbled instantly. You would have found yourself immediately saying Please let me come back.

Please, let me come home. 

On Saturday afternoon, your phone was ringing off the hook. Not that you could do anything about it, as you found yourself in an altercation with the newly moved-in upstairs neighbour. For days on end, all you’d heard was stomp stomp stomp from above. It was so frequent and so loud that you’d been rudely awoken in the early hours of the morning on multiple occasions.

You were trying this thing where you were being stronger. You were trying this thing where you wouldn’t let people give you shit that you didn’t ask for, nor deserve. When you thought about it in depth, you were actually just trying to be more like Roy. 

As you slammed your front door shut, you sighed deeply. The footsteps from upstairs had gone uncharacteristically quiet, so perhaps you’d actually got through to them. In the kitchen, your phone continued to buzz incessantly. You bound over and were met with something that should have instilled the fear of God into your bones: over ten missed calls, and multiple texts from yours truly, Roy fucking Kent. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you muttered to yourself, as you scrolled through the messages. 

OI!

Pick up the fucking phone.

You’re not gonna believe this shit. 

I’m going on the air in two minutes, hurry the fuck up. 

Guess you’ll just have to watch my mug talk about it on TV.

All messages were sent in a five minute period, not two minutes before. His last call had been one you’d missed by a mere minute. He’d be on Soccer Saturday by now, so you’d just have to see what the fuck was up as it aired. 

When the first advert break hit, you were smiling from smugness. Not that there was any competition between you and Roy when it came to football– he would obviously win– but this time around you felt superior. 

It was about Jamie’s return to Richmond. All that Roy had been calling and messaging you about was Ted bringing the superstar back to the team, and guess what? You’d fucking found out before him. 

During the break, your phone inevitably rang again. You picked it up swiftly, and didn’t even bother talking. Roy growled on the other end. “Did you fucking watch it?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” you hummed in response, still smiling to yourself. 

Roy went silent for just a second too long, and you could hear the cogs whirring in his head. “You already fucking knew, didn’t you?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed again, fully smiling now. 

“For fucks sake!” he exclaimed. “I should have known your fucking fanbase would have spilled.”

“Sam told me yesterday,” you said. “I actually– well, I went to the Dogtrack after he told me.”

“Oh?” Roy questioned. 

“I may have let my emotions get the better of me.”

“Did you give that little twat what for?”

You squished the features on your face together, thinking back to your abrupt arrival and yelling match on the pitch. “Yes…” 

Roy paused, and your heart stalled. “Good girl,” he said. 

You swallowed away the visceral reaction that reverberated through your chest, but still let out a small choking sound. You played it off as a cough, before you quickly changed the subject. “So, are you doing anything for Christmas?”

“I’ve got Phoebe. We’re gonna attempt to watch all the Harry Potter films in one day. It might get fucking ugly.” Roy paused again, and you had this horrible feeling he was about to– “Want to join us?” 

You clamped your eyes shut. Your heart plummeted into your gut. If he’d asked you this a few weeks back, before the conversation, before the date, before all of it, you wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes. Now, even if you’d wanted to go, you wouldn’t be able to after agreeing to join the guys at the Higgins household. But that was just it– after facing the music, and realising that Roy didn’t want anything more, you knew it would be easier for your heart if you stayed away from moments like that.

Moments where it was you and him, him and you. 

“Oh, Roy,” you let out. “That sounds fantastic, really, but I’ve already got plans with the team. I’m sorry.”

Roy knew it was a long shot. He knew you could’ve been going home to see family, but knowing that you were actually staying in Richmond was even more of a blow. You’d be mere miles away with the team, close enough to fucking be around if he tried. Deep down, though, he knew that wasn’t wise. 

It was him that stopped all this in the first place– it should be him to uphold the friendship and not blur the lines. It wouldn’t be fair to you otherwise. 

“No problem,” Roy said through gritted teeth, trying to sound fine. “Really, it’s fine. You’ve been missing Richmond again, haven’t you?” 

You scoffed gently. “You could fucking say that again.” You wanted to ask him the same, as you harboured a feeling that he missed the team just as much as you did, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

Roy copied you, letting out a huff of air softly. “Enjoy yourself. You deserve it.” Over the line, the shrill sound of a bell rang and a tannoy yelled Back on air in one minute! 

You frowned slightly. “Is that your cue?”

“Yeah, it is,” Roy said lowly. 

“You better get back to it.”

“Hm,” Roy growled. Neither one of you wanted to hang up, though. It was plain to fucking see. “I’ll, uh, see you in the new year then.”

“Have a good Christmas, Roy,” you said, almost painfully. 

“You too.” Then, he was gone. 

Waking up alone on Christmas morning was a new feeling. Your apartment was empty, besides yourself and your haphazard decorations, strewn up quickly in the small amount of time you had at home over the weeks leading up to the big day. It was oddly comforting, though, as you operated to your own schedule and weren’t met with the immediate task of dealing with family for a week straight. 

Your phone was full of Christmas messages. Ones from Keeley and Rebecca, from Ted and Beard. One from Nate made you smile, alongside various well-wishes from the local Richmond guys who wouldn’t be in attendance at Higgins’s. 

You drank your coffee happily, and got yourself ready without any time pressures. Walking over to the Higgins’ household was refreshing, as snow graced the ground in all its splendour. Richmond around Christmas time was truly magical, and it made you feel equally as reflective about your time in this part of London. A year and a half had gone so quickly. 

You passed the Crown and Anchor, and smiled at the buskers singing outside. Last Christmas drifted through the air rightfully, and you shrugged your shoulders up to your ears warmly and watched for a minute. 

Down the small side street by the pub, the unmistakable silhouettes of one Ted Lasso and one Rebecca Welton strolled alongside one another. You turned to face them, and could hardly believe your luck. Rebecca’s face lit up as soon as she saw you, and her long arms spread wide to encase you in a hug. 

“Merry Christmas, darling!” she exclaimed warmly, equally happy about bumping into you. 

When you pulled away, she was very quickly replaced by Ted. He wrapped his arms around you instantly. “What a small world, huh!” 

“Small indeed,” you chuckled.

Ted parted from you, and your cheeks already hurt from smiling as you looked at them both before you. “Where are you two off to? Ted, I thought you were having Facetime Christmas with Michelle and Henry?”

Ted frowned ever so slightly. “Well, some things in this life are impossible to control, and I think seven year old boys definitely fit in that category.” You smiled at him in understanding. “Lucky for me, though, the Boss was right there when I needed her.”

“We’re off to play Santa,” Rebecca chimed in. “Definitely beats what I did last year. That was right after Rupert… well. You know.” She smiled subtly. 

“Are you off to the Higgins’s already?” Ted asked. 

You nodded. “I wanted to get there a little early and help Julie if she needed it. Having a house full of footballers doesn’t strike me as something easy.”

“You can sure say that again,” Ted let out. Rebecca chuckled in agreement. 

“What about Roy, what’s he up to?” Rebecca asked. You inhaled a sharp breath, but smiled all the same. You ignored the stabbing pain in your chest, and the hoard of butterflies that ravaged through your stomach. 

You shrugged. “Don’t know.” It was a lie, but you couldn’t be fucked to explain it all. The invitation, the conversation. You hadn’t told her, nor Keeley, about what had happened after the double date. You didn’t want to. 

Ted’s face softened. “Well, we’ll leave you to it, Writer. Have a good one. You deserve it.”

Rebecca encased you in another hug. “You really do,” she whispered. You knew what it meant. 

Roy looked at his phone grumpily. Not that looking at his phone un-grumpily was something he did often, but he was extra grumpy as he traversed his Christmas messages that morning. There was nothing from you, no small text, no Facebook post, no message sent by carrier-fucking-pigeon. 

“Uncle Roy!” Phoebe called, as the pitter patter of her bare feet erupted down the stairs and straight towards him. She crashed into him as he sat at the dining table, and latched herself onto him. “Can we do presents now?”

Roy took one last glance at his phone, before he dropped it on the table. He turned back to his niece, taking in her puppy-dog eyes and features that looked just like his sister. “Fuck yeah,” he said. 

Phoebe squealed at the top of her lungs, before swivelling on her tiny toes and sprinting towards the tree in the living room. Roy watched her go, smiling to himself as she dropped to the floor and started rifling through the wrapped gifts. 

It was true that he wished you were here. You’d probably have arrived right about now, wearing something cosy like a lumper jumper, and holding a bottle of prosecco for later. You’d have brought gifts, no doubt. Some Barbie situation for Phoebe, or another thing suited for a seven year old girl. Phoebe would have loved it.

You would have brought something for him, too. Something that you might have been worrying about for a few weeks, concerned that he wouldn’t like it when, in fact, you could have got him a bag of literal dog shit and he would have still said thank you. 

Roy swallowed away the images that his head made up. He did it often now, thought of what could have been, what might have been his future, if he wasn’t such a fucking git– or, if you weren’t so fucking perfect that it scared him half to death. 

“Julie! I’ve washed the sprouts!” you yelled from the Higgins’ family kitchen. It was a quaint house, and you wondered how the fuck they fit four boys and two grown adults so easily inside.  

“Fabulous.” Julie rounded the corner from the living room, holding two empty plates that only held crumbs. “Another plate of mince pies is all gone. I don’t know where those boys put it all!”

The doorbell rang like clockwork, and with every ring brought another team member, or two, or four. You hugged everyone as they filed into the kitchen, dropping coats and bags and another plate of food until every counter and surface was covered in another cultural dish. It was fantastic, and you found yourself feeling more part of a family than you ever had at Christmasses in the past. There was no drama, no political debates, and no screaming matches with your mother. It was blissful. 

When Dani arrived, the room erupted in greeting. He approached Julie first and offered her his dish. “Mrs Higgins, I bring you my mother’s punch, and some Mezcal on the side, as she says I am already cheeky enough.” 

Julie chuckled. “Oh, thank you, Dani.” She took the punchbowl from him, and lifted the foil. Immediately, the room was met with the metallic scent of alcohol. Tequila was very much already present in this punch. “God– it seems like you’ve already added some to this.”

Dani grinned. “Yes, I may have cheekified this one for you already.”

You chopped carrots a few metres away from them, but turned to Dani with your knife raised. “Someone get me a fucking glass of that.” Sam obliged as you continued chopping, and the group of the guys got themselves a drink too. The festivities were well underway. 

“Here you are,” Sam said, placing a glass of punch beside you. 

“Thank you, Sam.” You wiped your hands and stopped cooking for just a moment, as he raised his own glass in waiting. You smiled and hovered yours next to his, feeling infinitely warm already. “What are we toasting to?” you asked. 

“To you,” he said gently. “Just because you deserve it.”

You chuckled, embarrassed. “Everyone’s been saying that lately,” you said quietly. “I’m not sure why.”

“Because it is our job to remind you of it, especially when you cannot see it yourself.” Sam looked at you softly, and you knew he was being genuine. You clinked glasses, as your eyes welled ever so slightly. It was moments like these that made you feel known, really really known, but also desperately sad. 

Why weren’t you with them every fucking day of the week?

Leslie let in another three of the guys, and as they clambered inside a problem arose. “You’ve become quite popular, Leslie!” Julie exclaimed happily. 

“Yes, it seems so,” Higgins said. “That’s the problem though, isn’t it. Where are we all going to sit?”

You took the roast potatoes out of the oven and dropped them on the kitchen island. “I think I have an idea to fix that,” you said. 

You tucked in your chair last, and looked around the room. A table as long as a train carriage graced the Higgins household, made from the likes of a surfboard and a pool table, amongst other things. Sam sat opposite you, casting you with a golden glow whenever he so much as smiled. 

At the end of the table, Higgins stood up. Every pair of eyes in the house shot his way, and he raised his glass to the sky. “Here’s to another successful Christmas in Richmond!”

Sam raised his glass higher than all else. “And here’s to the family Higgins!”

As darkness set in outside, you all ate and were merry in each other’s presence. Spending time with the team was always special to you, but this moment stood out above all the rest. It marked the start of another year in Richmond, and just over six months at Pluto Press. It marked a year and a half of an unlikely friendship between yourself and Roy, and all the rest.

You ate more than your own bodyweight, but to your utter surprise, at the end of the meal your head was spinning. You took a sip of your drink, and stopped to stare at the contents of your glass. It was full to the brim, but had been almost empty just a moment before. Had that been happening all evening?

You glanced at Sam, but the punchbowl was nowhere near him. When you glanced to your left, however– “I think this punch needs just a bit more cheekiness!” Dani exclaimed, as he poured in another few shots of tequila to the mix. 

You grabbed his bicep gently. “Dani, have you been filling up my glass all night?” you asked. 

Dani nodded happily. “Sí, mi amigo. My mother never believed in empty glasses. A glass cannot be half empty, or half full, it always has to be full full!” he exclaimed. The boys around him cheered and raised their very full glasses. 

“Well.” You scoffed abruptly to yourself. “Shit,” you said. 

Dani turned back to you, eyes gleaming. “Oh my goodness, are you–?” He mimed tipping back a full glass, and you laughed so loudly that the entire table was alerted to you. Dani grabbed your shoulder fondly. “My friends, it seems our Writer has been– how do you say it in English?”

Bumbercatch leant forward, smiling wildly. “Trollied, bevved, battered–”

Dani stood up abruptly. “She has been trollied, bevved and battered!” He raised his glass high, and clinked it with the guys down his end of the table. 

Meanwhile, you were just calming down from an uncontrollable laughing fit. You glanced at your very full glass, and a small part of your brain told you not to drink it. You’d already had far too much, and you knew what you got like when tequila was in your system. On the other hand, you thought of Roy. 

And he would have told you to buck the fuck up and drink the whole fucking thing. 

You raised your glass to the sky. “To Richmond!” 

The guys followed suit, almost knocking over the surfboard table. “To Richmond!” 

As you stumbled through town, after declining multiple attempts from the guys to drive you home or get you an Uber, you found yourself heading elsewhere. Not home, to the comfort of your bed and a full loaf of bread for you to soak up all of Dani’s Mezcal. Instead, your legs were taking you the familiar route to Roy’s house. You didn’t know what time it was, but you knew it wasn’t too late for him to be asleep. You were proved right, as you rounded the corner to his drive and saw the living room lights still on, no matter how dimly lit he liked them to be. 

As you approached his front door, the small bit of your logical brain that you had left was screaming at you to fuck off and turn around. This was silly, you knew, but you couldn’t fathom going home just yet. Innately, you landed upon yelling surprise! or starting to sing carols in Roy’s face as soon as he opened his door. Somehow, those ideas seemed like the perfect idea, and not at all fucking stupid.

You knocked on the solid oak door strongly, ready to surprise the hell out of him, but when he opened the door and peered down at you– all your words failed. 

Roy wore the remnants of a suit, and a fancy one at that. His tie was loose around his neck, and his shirt was slightly untucked at the bottom, but not enough to not notice the belt that sat snug around his waist. You scanned him up and down quickly– or as quickly as you could in this fucking state. To Roy, your checking him out took a solid ten seconds, or longer. 

When you met his eyes again, he couldn’t hide the amused smile on his face any longer. “Can I help you?” he asked. 

“I may have had a bit to drink,” you said, and as hard as you tried you couldn’t stop your words from slurring. “Dani made punch.”

“Did that punch happen to punch you in the fucking face?” Roy huffed.

You nodded. “Juuust a little bit,” you let out. 

Roy moved to the side. “Fucking get in here,” he said warmly.

You struggled to take off your boots, as Roy grabbed a few drinks from the kitchen. He oversaw you in his entryway, shrugging off your coat clumsily. When you stepped onto his floor in your socks, you skidded and let out a squeak. 

Roy looked away quickly, trying to harden his expression. Watching you inebriated and without inhibitions was enough to make his gut coil. You stumbled to the kitchen, and leaned against the kitchen island just to keep yourself up-right. 

He slid you a beer, which you took without question. “I really don’t need this, do I?” you said, looking to Roy for approval. 

“Fuck no,” he said. “But, it’s Christmas.” 

“Right you are,” you said. The two of you clinked your bottles together, and you swigged back your beer as if it were water. Roy chuckled so hard that beer frothed out of his mouth. 

“Fucking hell, come on.” He grabbed your bicep gently, and led you to the living room. 

You practically jumped onto the sofa, and got yourself comfortable immediately. “I love Christmas,” you whittled on. Roy sat on the other side of you, and took a swig of his own beer. “All the lights, and the snow, and everyone together. I just love it.”

“I take it that spending the day with the team was nice?”

“Just the best!” you exclaimed, raising your arms to the sky and almost dropping beer onto Roy’s plush carpet. He took another amused swig, just to distract himself. “How was your day with Phoebe?”

“We got to Order of the Phoenix before she fucking fell asleep,” he said. “She gave it a good shot.” 

In the corner of his eye, Roy spotted the last present beneath his tree, and remembered who it was for. As you busied yourself by pulling off the sticker from your bottle, Roy got up swiftly and headed to pick it up. He placed his beer down as he grabbed it, and opened the card on the top. 

Just another thing to remind you of home. Roy. 

His handwriting was shit, and he knew it, but he thought that now was as good a time as any to give it to you. It was Christmas after all. 

“Hey, so. I don’t know what’s got me being such a pussy this year, but I got you something,” he said, keeping his back turned to you. “You don’t have to open it now, just thought it would be nice.” He turned back to you, expecting you to be looking at him with those large, glassy eyes that he’d looked into a thousand fucking times.

Roy relaxed when he saw you, and a bubbly laugh ejected itself from his mouth. You were fast asleep on his sofa, beer balanced precariously on your chest as you breathed rhythmically. Your expression was soft, and your mouth was open, ready to emit some serious snoring. Roy strolled back to you slowly, placing your present on the coffee table. He grabbed the beer from your chest and replaced it by pulling a blanket over you warmly. You didn’t stir, utterly unconscious from such a fun packed day. 

He’d never seen you like this– with your guard completely down. He felt privileged to know you felt comfortable enough to feel so at home like this. In his house, completely pissed, next to him. 

Something new came over Roy as he made sure you were comfortable, and before he could stop himself, he leant down and placed a kiss on your forehead. Just a peck, and so fast and soft as not to wake you up. “Merry Christmas,” he whispered. 

Roy left you on his sofa, at peace, and turned off the lights as he headed for bed himself. On the way up, he thought about the last year and a half of having you in his life. All the ups and the downs, all the confusion and the clarity– and what a time it had fucking been. 

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[leaves-of-laurelin]

The boat guy (drenched but safe) is not who Rebecca is going to end up with just like she’s not going to end up with Sam (green matchbook) or John Wingsnight (shite in nining armor). These were signs not of her future but of what was going to lead her to her future.

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

with the disclaimer that i’m saying this with my unremovable ted/rebecca goggles firmly on, for i can only be what i am:

i’ve been wondering for awhile if all the stuff the psychic predicted already happened with ted but rebecca just hasn’t realized it. (we’ve been over the matchbox men, the white knighting, etc.! also, i am a “drenched but safe”= “ted spitting sparkling water all over rebecca after they agreed to win the whole fucking thing?” truther, lol.)

one thing that makes me wonder if this might be the case even more after this episode is the direct callbacks being made to 1.02, specifically rebecca saying “fuck me” drinking the tea and then singing kenny rogers. 1.02 is the episode that set rebecca down the inevitable path of having great tenderness in her heart for ted despite striving for the exact opposite. so it was really interesting to see those things popping up again as she meets this almost magical, surreally perfect romance man! plus, the green soldier ted gives rebecca + the fact that boat guy was in the military, maybe?

idk, i just feel like rebecca keeps encountering all these dudes -- old loves and new! (and john wingsnight) -- in a way that might ultimately prove red herring-y.

anyway, my main point: why the 1.02 ted callbacks?? why those??????

[tabbyofwisdom]

Don't ask me why I'm doing this now. Maybe it's because we're hitting the one year anniversaries of the end of the show, but here's a thesis that I've been ruminating on as to why I believed the symbols from the psychic pointed to Ted.

Presented below the break

My thesis, if it can be called anything, is that each of those symbols were meant for each of the three romantic interests in Rebecca's life, that they symbolized that they were one part of what Rebecca wanted and needed but that they were not the right man. I'm going to break down each symbol. Also, I don't remember reading anything like this but if someone has written something like this, I apologize.

The Green Matchbook: This was for Sam. Sam came into Rebecca's life and showed her that she could have fun again. That love can be fun. In season one, Sassy says, "No, the real Rebecca is silly. Strong, yeah, but not cold." She's relearning fun. But Sam is too young. The power dynamics honestly are really cringy. It's one thing to date someone more than half your age, it's another to date someone you pay that's more than half your age. Aside from that all, their life experiences are totally different. His is just beginning. Rebecca is, to use a metaphor, a phoenix. She's starting it all over for the second time, but she's got a lifetime of experience.

Shite in Nining Armor(honestly, this 'sign' was so stupid, imo): This one is obviously John Stamos Wingsnight. Rebecca's relationship with him was all about learning that love is leaving yourself open to being heartbroken. He obviously was not the person that was meant for her to be that open with......but he was age appropriate.

Upside down, drenched, but safe: Ok, this is the big one and the most controversial. This is boatman. She falls into the water but ends up being fished out by him. Their evening is all about Rebecca learning to let go. She's always dressed to the nine's and is always put together. She never lets her hair down, to be colloquial . That evening she lets herself be Rebecca. 100% her. Silly, in command, sweet, hopeful. We get to see the person Sassy knew but with the strength and stripes that she has earned through her marriage. Flashing back to a year ago, I was so happy to see this. I thought, "This is it. This is Rebecca and now that she's let herself be herself, she can be that with Ted." 😒 I have SO many issues but I'm just going to focus on "Sunflowers". As a woman, I was so nervous throughout the episode. If I was in a foreign country, by myself, fished out of a canal by a strange man, and he threw his phone into the canal(thus eliminating any type of communication) and then he made a joke about how my drink was not spiked, I'd be out of there faster than a Ted Lasso spit take. Again, I was so happy to see Rebecca let herself be....herself but I was just uncomfortable the entire time. When he kissed her foot due to 'habit' I was like, NOPE GIRL, GET OUT OF THERE. He's weird at best. I think the writers were going for "meet-cute" of the 90s and 00s romcom persuasion but we've all come to realize that those movies are rife with misogyny and creepy male behavior and while we may still look back with fondness for them, we don't like to see it in our new media. It wasn't cute. Beyond all that, if you're looking at this through a literary lens, you've seen the two signs so far but the wrong men for Rebecca. Logic would dictate that the third is not right either but that we're close to the end of our journey.

I felt like these signs were pointing the way for Rebecca to realize her feelings for Ted(apparently I was deluding myself). I'm reminded of a post that broke down the response of Darcy and Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice after the first proposal. They both individually went out and worked on themselves and then came back together after they had realized their faults and worked on them. But the key is that they didn't do it, Darcy does not do this, in order to try again. To try to get the other one back. It was a realization of things, in this case pride and prejudice, that they individually worked on because it was pointed out to them. I bring this up because I see Rebecca's signs, and Ted's therapy(but I'm not going to get into that right now) as them working on themselves. Through these three men, Rebecca learns, or re-learns, things about herself and about what she wants out of a relationship. She gets back to herself, but with the wounds she gained. She is a better and stronger person. They are sign posts pointing to where she should go and where she should be headed. Follow these signs and you will get your lighting.

Rebecca wants someone to have fun with, to feel safe enough to be open to being hurt, and to be herself, wholly and completely. Who in our little show does that for her? There are so many instances where Ted proves time and again that he is all these things. From the insistence of Ted's that Rebecca join the team for the exorcism to his joy at seeing her join the team on the bus in Amsterdam and his laughter at her singing. The absolute care Ted takes to make sure she always feels safe and always has an option to say no, or to voice her concern and the forgiveness he gives her for her sabotage plans. With Ted, Rebecca was always able to be herself. It's slow to come out but through his use of "Oklahoma" we get pure, honest Rebecca. Through Biscuits with the Boss, Ted takes the time to get to know Rebecca, not Ms. Welton, but Rebecca. Ted gets to see the huge generous heart Rebecca has. By the last season Ted is open enough to ask "Am I a mess?" and Rebecca can respond that of course but she is too and that's why they get along.

The show didn't go the way it seemed to logically be going and many of us were left heartbroken and confused. There are many more signs that can be talked about (the September 13th connection, the way Rebecca can tell when Ted is having a panic attack, etc. etc.). Those are for later posts.

If you're still reading, thanks! And you're as crazy as I am :)

[chainofclovers]

Ted Lasso 3x5 Thoughts

(Hello hello last week was so bleak; turns out I was pretty significantly ill and as soon as my doc and I got things figured out and I got on antibiotics, I became a human being capable of thinking consecutive thoughts and enjoying the things I like.)

One of the things I like is TV show Ted Lasso. I think this was my favorite episode of the season. Or at least it was the episode that, at the end of watching, gave me the most concrete I love this show and I love the pacing and I love the story being told and I love these characters feelings I’ve had all season…and I’ve basically felt that way on some level after every s3 ep (with the exception of 3x4, which left me very unsettled, but also, I was very sick). 

Rebecca:

I am so…proud of her?!

Her panic when she didn’t know who to put as her Emergency Contact broke my heart. She’s so aware of the things she’s lacking right now, even as she does have people she loves. 

I absolutely love that Shite in Nining Armor was stupid John Wingsnight’s stupid fiancee’s slip of the tongue. I love that Rebecca had no chill in asking her to confirm what she said. I love that John was wearing his idiotic double-Manchester scarf, and I love that in the later scenes in the episode Rebecca was also wearing an asymmetrical scarf with a color gradient. 

I absolutely loved every single thing about her choice to see a fertility doctor. Right after the ep ended, my wife said that she thinks that in the end, as Rebecca looks back on her life, she will be comforted by the fact that she tried, that she sought the information, that she admitted to herself that there was something she really wanted and chose to go after the information she needed to find out if it was possible. I agree completely. Also Hannah Waddingham played every moment with that phone call in her office so, so perfectly. Her face always says a million things. 

Keeley:

(I already understood that Keeley was bi but) Keeley is bi! Jack is bi! They hit it off and are having fun! 

I think the moment when they’re drinking vodka and Keeley says she used to be a happy person is one of Juno Temple’s absolute best acting moments in this entire series, and I say that as someone who generally absolutely adores the choices she makes as Keeley.

The complexity of where she is in her life warms my heart so much. She’s learning a million new things every day. She’s attracted to Jack and feels a connection that she wants to explore. She’s still hurting over Roy and is able to admit that. 

It really broke my heart that she didn’t register that Rebecca was calling her, even though I completely understood why she didn’t. If I was in that situation, my phone would be the last thing on my mind. But I love that Rebecca’s first call was to Keeley, and her not picking up is very much in conversation with Rebecca’s lack of obvious Emergency Contact, I think. (Keeley would be a great Emergency Contact! It was just one phone call! But it hurts! Is it weird that I keep capitalizing Emergency Contact?)

I have mixed feelings about how all the Shandy stuff went down. I would have preferred it if Shandy had continued to be a more nuanced character in terms of her potential and her skills. Maybe we haven’t seen the last of her? I think that based on what happened, Keeley was right to let her go, but everything Shandy had to say and do in the first few eps of the season felt like there was a lot of depth behind it, and since she’s a person of color in a vastly majority white office environment it doesn’t really hit quite right that her firing felt primarily like a lesson Keeley needed to learn. I did really love her bridge-burning goodbye speech, though. Who wouldn’t want to yell “fascist fucks” in an awkward corporate setting?! Team Shandy. 

Nate:

Nate practicing with his mom: adorable.

Nate being really really into Taste of Athens in Tooting: stressful.

Nate beautifully articulating why it’s important to him and refusing to go along with Anastasia’s ridicule of the place: lovely. 

Beard and Roy (and a little Trent) and Ted and Coaching:

I love how much of a duo Beard and Roy are this season, and how fiercely Beard was ready to go to Kansas even while there were so many things happening with the team. That was a genuine act of family right there! And Roy got in on the action too, with his horrifying assault fantasy! The weird love between all these men sends my heart aflutter! 

I’m also endlessly fascinated with Ted once again having the beginnings of a panic attack in very close physical proximity to his fellow coaches. I’m into Trent’s gay Let the Good Times Roll mug. 

One of my favorite things about last week’s episode was Ted’s decision not to drink before the call with Michelle; it was really important that he didn’t numb himself before saying the things he needed to say. And for weirdly similar reasons, I kinda like that he was defaulting to pouring some water while the call with Michelle connected, then he switched to whiskey at the mention of Jake having taken Henry to the park. Whenever Ted is alone, the choices and things happening physically (his kitchen looked quite neat in that scene, and the open peanut butter wasn’t fighting for counter space with other items) tell so much of the story, and I’ve continued to love how that storytelling is handled.

Ted had a good parenting moment with Henry! His father’s lesson about anger transferred to Ted and then to Henry! Ted’s dad never met his grandson, but he helped him today! (Also, the absolute CRINGE image of Henry performing an apology rap…the incredibly dorky apple doesn’t fall far from the incredibly dorky tree.) It’s not lost on me that after this major parenting win, then a successful staving off of the panic attack by reminding himself that Henry is okay, it only takes a tiny bit of prodding from his team to return to finer coaching form. I love that he rips the sign further. I have been curious about whether or not he’d talk to the team about Nate, but so much time passed between 3x4 and 3x5 that maybe we’ll never know about that. But I love that in the 7 weeks between episodes, the sign stayed up in its ripped state, and I love that he addresses belief more concretely than he’s ever done precisely by taking the concrete symbol out of the equation. 

Higgins

Higgins brought the problems with the coaching staff to Rebecca! He continues to be one of the bravest people on this show. 

I love how stricken Rebecca looked when he got the words out, too. Her desk was positively strewn with biscuit crumbs. 

And he was smart about psychics and said the thing that I really hoped would be the whole point of Tish, in terms of this being an opportunity for Rebecca to see some things more clearly.

Rebecca and Ted:

OK, my brain is full of all the stuff I just talked about, but my brain is mostly full of that hallway scene. Yeah.

If it mattered less, I could………………[you know how this one goes]

[contactlessdrivethru]

i haven’t seen anybody mention it yet so i’m going to!!

rebecca and Unnamed Bald Dutch Man have their little bit in the boat where they sing to “She Believes in Me” by kenny rogers and um! can we take note! of the significance! of that!

ted and rebecca both sing A Lot. ted mostly to himself, rebecca mostly because the show wants to show off hannah waddingham’s voice (as they should), but they both sing A Lot. they even sing together in the christmas episode! it’s a little piece of their personalities that ties them together. and the first time we see either of them singing is in s1e2.

ted sits down for the first Biscuits With The Boss and asks “first concert, best concert”, and his first is kenny rogers! he sings a little bit of The Gambler to her! it’s the first time he really tries to get to know her, and so it has always stuck in my head.

and then Dutch Guy is playing a kenny rogers song and maybe i’m being delusional but also maybe i’m picking up on threads… every run-in she’s had with guys who she had romances with has tied into something the psychic said. and also, every situation has had a connection to ted.

first the green matchbook. which yes, she got one from sam. but also, what did ted give her so soon after they met? a green matchbook soldier. shite in nine-ing armor. yes, john wingsnight’s fiancée called him that, but also, in s1e8, what does ted say he’s doing on her behalf? white knighting. and now, “you’re drenched, but you’re safe”. and she was! she had a safe, happy, quietly romantic night with a man who understood her. and what was he playing? fucking kenny rogers.

i’m just saying. smells a little bit like soulmates to me.

[mollball]

Gonna put this out there and it might not age well... But I think "We'll Never Have Paris" may be about Ted and Michelle really being DONE. We've seen both Ted and Rebecca's "options" move on and doors closed this season, guiding them to each other. Sharon (whoever thought THAT might happen???) in 301. Sassy is out because she's "less of a mess" than Ted. John Wingsnight is engaged. Sam has moved on (hopefully with Simi? maybe?), Canal Boat Guy is not it. The news that Dr Jacob is with Michelle is a hurt that's got to close that door, definitively, and we see how Ted manages to move on from that. Because that's life. We all move on. And this is a show about LIFE with a football setting.

[roamwithahungryheart]

I haven’t seen anyone mention it yet and given you catch all the significant wardrobe moments, I was wondering your thoughts on both Ted and Rebecca wearing red in this week’s episode? Given the red string of fate, it seems like an interesting wardrobe choice. This show makes me overanalyze like crazy, so could be nothing!

The use of red in this episode was definitely intentional.

I think by putting Rebecca's outfit specifically against the backdrop of Arsenal, it's a way of pushing it to the back of our minds because hey, Arsenal's team logo is red, it's not that deep, right? HOWEVER!

Starting the episode with Ted wearing red, followed by Ted tripping over the red string (of fate) and Rebecca wearing red at the end of the episode is a narrative choice in terms of fashion & using costume design to convey meaning and character traits. The show's costume designer Jacky Levy has talked about this a little bit - Hannah chooses Rebecca's outfits alongside Jacky, and she's said that 'every choice is deliberate'. When you look at Rebecca's outfits through that lens, it makes them even more interesting!

Looking at Ted & Rebecca's red clothing throughout the show, there's a unifying theme - they both wear red when they're faced with change/challenges. Ted first wore a red polo shirt when he started to struggle with the split from Michelle. In that same episode, Ted & Rebecca walk alongside each other, both wearing red.

Rebecca's wearing red when Ted has his 'white knighting' moment in the pub. It's also worth noting that prior to this, Ted brings her biscuits & chocolate truffles as a thank you gift (which she eats exactly the way Ted suggests, before he has the chance to finish suggesting it) and they have the 'metaphorical St. Bernard' conversation.

Rebecca's red Roland Mouret dress on her date with John Wingsnight (derogatory) is worn underneath a biscuit box pink coat. Thinking about the 'struck by lightning' conversation, make of that what you will 👀

Similarly - although maybe this is a stretch and just a little bit of wishful thinking - Ted & Rebecca both wearing matching shades of red at Ola's on opening night when she receives the matchbook hits a little different after this week's episode.

3x07 gave us a clear indication that rom-communism is alive and well and on its way back to Richmond. Juxtaposing Rebecca's awkward moment meeting Sam's Dad with Simi meeting him closes the book on the connection with Sam. Sure, the Ola's red aprons might be nothing, but in the context of the red string of fate, Sam's Dad's apron strings 'tie' Sam & Simi together at the end of the episode.

Where does that leave Ted & Rebecca? At this point we don't know. But given the amount of times they've mirrored each other, and that ACNE Studios knot ring Rebecca wears to dinner with Keeley (more on that later), there's one more string left to tie this season.

[praecurokat]

Ted Lasso S3E5 Thoughts- This Episode Made me Cry (w Joy) *SPOILERS*

-Did not expect Hamilton stan John Wingsnight to make another appearance.. tbh I forgot he existed.

-Interesting how the psychic’s prediction about the ‘shite in nining armour’ played out.

-Hmm the way Jack and Keeley are looking at each other… and going to get lunch.. hmmmm.. It’ll never happen though.

-“My wife Christina is the only woman I see with clarity. Every other woman is a smudge”. So on brand Zava.

-“I can’t believe that our white whale has the same name as the strip club I danced at while in college.” Somehow not unexpected. The Beard lore continues.

-Ted comparing Trent to a ‘sadistic nature documentarian’ sent meee…

-Roy crossing the line from gruff and angry man to serial killer.. ‘4:00 a.m is the hour people are least prepared to defend themselves’. Then Shandy calling about that business deal at 4 am. And Roy picking Jamie’s training time as 4 am..

-My hope for Colin or Trent content is fading like Zava’s vision when he looks at women other than his wife.

-What is in Barbara’s drawer? More snow globes? Murder weapons???

-Ted Lasso Drinking Game: drink every time someone says ‘father’.

-The roller coaster of emotions before Jack and Keeley kissed.. I went from despair that they’ll probably never get together to crying with joy.. pls i did not expect that! Finally a win for the Gays..

-KEELEY AND JACK!!!

-Jade is being nice??

-Ted canonically plays both Roblox and possibly Fortnite. Concerning.

[looking-for-a-sword]

For the past 12 weeks my friend and I had this tradition to text each other "Happy Wingsday!!" every Wednesday morning as soon as we woke up.

We called it wingsday because I absolutely love Ted's pun when Rebecca told him about John Wingsnight - "His name is John Wingsnight? Like at a sports bar? Like, 'Monday night's wings night down at PJ Flatts' like that?" But since we celebrated the whole day it became "wings day" instead of wings night.

Tomorrow will be the last one. So happy Wingsday everybody! To our beloved characters, the beautiful moments they gave us and to Richmond!

[christinegrrl]

3.05 very initial thoughts

4am keeps coming up??? Like beyond the roy/jamie training it was mentioned 2 other times what does it meannnn

The people in the waiting room at Rebecca's doctor's office are the same people om the cafe when she broke up with John Wingsnight in season 2

Trent rainbow mug

Beard telling Ted that Henry is a good kid because Ted's a good father, man if that isn't a loaded statement for multiple characters and relationships in this show

Isaac acknowledging that Nate is gonna change inside

That locker room scene at the end was everything!!! Exactly what I've been missing about this season compared to the last few

[evendumbo]

The second season of The Bear was an outstanding example of focused character development and relationship building. I loved it. I don’t ship anyone on this show, but the development of the relationship between Sydney and Carmen just felt affirming after the Ted Lasso Fiasco. Their long talks, their interesting conflicts, the way you could see how their past lives influenced how they navigated their partnership was beautifully done.

I kept thinking, this is how you write a complicated friendship between a man and a woman. Make them whole people, then let them actually engage each other beyond a few lines here and there. Let their relationship even dominate a couple of episodes. Show us why their love and respect for one another is growing and how that is a rocky process. The friendship might grow into something more, I really don’t feel invested one way or the other. But I’m invested in the relationship whatever it looks like.

I kept thinking, this was what was missing between Ted and Rebecca if they were always meant to be platonic friends. This is it. If the show had put this level of time and attention cultivating their relationship, I would have been totally happy with just their friendship because there would have been a there there. It may seem counterintuitive that, because their relationship was underdeveloped, I rooted for them to discover a romantic relationship. I get that. But the underdevelopment made sense to me because I believed the show’s intention was that Ted had a quiet crush on Rebecca which was growing into real feelings while he slowly unraveled at his job — feelings that would eventually be revealed in an exciting, maybe devastating, narrative climax. Romantic tension can get effectively communicated through thousands of imperceptible moments, but a platonic friendship soulmate relationship sustained only by here and there encounters does not work. Or, at best, it can be a cute dynamic, but kind of boring.

For example, I replayed the Christmas episode in my mind as Ted and Rebecca being only platonic friends (bc the finale killed any desire to rewatch this show). I mean, through that lens, this part of the episode is cute, but not particularly interesting. It’s just two friendly coworkers who had that nice time together at Christmas when Ted was feeling sad, and Rebecca briefly expressed regret about her past actions. That’s totally fine if that’s what floats your boat. But my take at the time was that Rebecca had these tells that, when she was nervous around a guy, she’d fuss with her clothes (which she did while texting John Wingsnight), or do this funny thing with her tongue (which she did while having dinner with Sam), both of which she did while hanging out with Ted that day. Plus the random mention of fucking 😂. I was like, oh wow, that escalated, what is going on here!?! That is interesting.

Sydney and Carmen having a substantial conversation while strengthening a table together as a metaphor for their mutually supportive relationship? That is interesting.

I’m just saying, if a friendship and nothing more is what the Ted Lasso writers wanted, I really wish they had just done the work and written the damn friendship.

[dandylion-s]

You tellin me John Wingsnight assaulted a 85 YEAR OLD MAN. And then a woman decided to marry him because of that??? Girl. That's a senior citizen. Rebecca dodged a fucking bullet