#Sydney breaking up fights

[mod-doodles]

When Will in Fresh Prince got emotional about his dad’s absence in his life, did we take it out of the comedy category.

There are a million of these moments in shows like Friend’s, The Office, Modern Family, Moesha, The Parker’s, One on one, B99 etc

Comedy and our ability to make light of bad situations go hand in hand. We could argue that The Bear is not a traditional comedy but that’s because it does follow the format of a sitcom and there’s no rule that explicitly says that the comedy is limited to sitcoms. Most of the shows today walk a fine line anyway.

If y’all can’t compete just say that, this shit will never not be funny.

Funniest thing last season was that relationship with Claire, I said what I said.

[fairyfawm]

[image description: two screenshots of tags people have added to this post. the first is from user mouseratz and reads:

"grew up with a sheltie. yes he herded me to brush my teeth every night. he did not like me much and did not want to be touched 99% of the time anyone under 5ft was a sheep and not a person. he tolerated children. he loved my mom and dad though"

the second is from user kalibrate and reads:

"archer recently made up a new rule which is if he finds dropped food he'll bring it over to show me to see if its ok to eat it, hes very talented"

end description.]

fun thing about herding and/or generally neurotic breeds: they are really good at following rules you have instituted, but they will also make their own Dog Rules they will follow stringently whether or not you like it

[thebearer]

making the bed |carmen berzatto x reader| part one

prompt: carmen's stressed. food critics, a newborn baby, balancing work life and married life and now dad life; he's bound to break, everyone knows it. but no one ever thought he'd lash out on you.

or, part one of the devastation fic. based off this ask from the other day. two more parts to come.

contains: mega angst. mega angst, with no resolution in this part. hurt, no comfort (in this chapter, will be later in part 3). mean!carmen, very mean. mom!reader x dad!carmen with newborn teddy. fighting, language, carmen says mean stuff he doesn't mean. past mentions of trauma, family trauma, mikey mentioned. very angsty and a little heavy, please read at your own discretion. word count- 3.5k+.

"Are you ok?"

Carmen now understood why that phrase used to send Donna into such a blind rage, lips pursing and jaw clenching more and more every time he heard it. First at work, then with you, it felt never ending.

It was beginning to feel like critic season with how many were coming in, snooty and demanding to be impressed. It couldn't have come at a worst time, right in the middle of busy season with the start of the holidays. Days at The Bear were filled with frantic panic, running around, making sure everything was perfect, accounted for, and Carmen always had the sinking feeling it wasn't- that he'd forgotten something, messed something up. 

It wasn't rare for him to work himself up like this, a normal that you always warned him about, but he'd always had a solitude. As long as he'd known you, he'd had a place to go, to unwind, to let himself rest and reset with you. And he still did, it was just shared now with a newborn.

Dorothea Michelle. Teddy, for short. The light of his life, yours too. Nearly two months old with a set of lungs that sounded much louder, much more developed than that. Nights were long, sleepless, spent trying to lull Teddy back to sleep, awake even if he wasn't up with her. Carmen couldn't allow himself the selfishness to relax, to rewind, to "take it easy" like everyone told him to. At work, he was the boss; at home, he was a dad.

"Fuck, fuck," Carmen's sleepy stare was broken by a lick of bubbling heat, the lamb's roux popping with the high heat, splashing all over Carmen's chef whites.

"Jeff, c'mon," Tina clicked, shaking her head, moving the pan to lower heat. "What're you doin'?"

Carmen grit his teeth, snatching a rag off the stainless steel counter tops, scrubbing the burgundy stain, huffing when it only spread the stain.

"What happened?" Sydney turned, looking from the burnt sauce to Carmen's stained chef shirt. "Oh,"

"Do we have a spare coat?" Carmen huffed, throwing the rag down with a firm smack against the counter.

"I don't think so, Carm." Sydney shook her head. "You took the last ones home with you two days ago. The wine-"

"-I know, Chef, I know." Carmen snapped, running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, I-I can't fuckin' serve the critics lookin' like this. With shit all over me- fuck."

"Hey, easy, easy," Richie turned the corner, his hands held up. "What's goin' on?"

"Jeff got sauce over him. He doesn't have any clean clothes." Tina muttered, irritated that she had to fix his mess, more irritated that he wasn't taking care of himself. You have a baby, Jeff, you need to rest and take some time, she'd told him. Carmen only waved her off.

"Okay, okay, hey, that's no problem." Richie's voice raised, lifting over Carmen's. "You go home and change, get your spare, check on my beautiful goddaughter, and then come back with your A game. Yes?"

Carmen didn't even humor him with a snarky remark, yanking his coat off and stomping towards the office to grab his things. Richie and Tina looked at each other, shaking their head gently.

"Kids runnin' thin, T." Richie muttered with a sigh. "He's gonna break. It's gonna be bad."

"Yeah, he is. Gonna wear himself out before then." Tina shook her head. "Jeff needs a vacation." They both jumped at the slamming of the backdoor, Carmen's angry exit shaking the foundation.

"Needs to be fuckin' medicated. Fuckin' lunatic." Richie scoffed, rolling his eyes at Carmen's dramatics.

The drive home was filled with silence, Carmen's iron grip on the wheel, tearing through the traffic towards the house- his house, his home. 

Home, but it didn't provide the same comfort that it usually did. Carmen's shoulders still stayed tense, buzzing with rage, not dissipating when he thought of you, or of Teddy, knowing you'd both be there, excited to see him. 

You jumped at the sound of the car door slamming, peeking out the window to see Carmen's parked next to yours, furiously stomping up the front steps. You frowned, grabbing the baby monitor, walking towards the front door.

Carmen nearly hit you with how fiercely he flung the door open. "Woah," You reached for the door, stopping it before he could flick it shut. "Carm, don't slam it. Teddy's asleep. I just got her down." You frowned at him, shutting it slowly.

Carmen looked at you but didn't speak, looking through you with a rage that had your spine tingling before he finally broke his gaze, stomping towards the laundry room. "Carm? What’re you doing home? Don’t you have dinner soon?" You hesitated slightly, lingering in the doorway with an uncertainty you hadn’t felt with Carmen before. 

Carmen didn’t answer, his jaw still ground tight while he rummaged through the clean clothes, carelessly unfolding and shifting the folded clothes.

"Carmen," You said more firmly, caching his gaze. He didn't speak still, just stared at you- through you. "Are you ok?" You lifted a brow, features softening in worry.

Carmen paused, eyes closing, shoulders tensing in agitation. Are you ok? His ears rang, a familiar rage that he hadn't felt in years bubbling up deep in his chest. Frustrated and blinding and rampant, heat rushing through his veins, pulling himself further and further from reality into someplace different- someplace darker in his mind. 

"What's wrong?" You pressed, he could barely hear it, ears ringing at your question. "Did something happen? Did the critic come-"

"-Where's my chef whites?" Carmen barked, cutting you off, his chest tightening more and more with every heavy heave of his chest. You flinched at his tone.

"Uh, I-I haven't seen the whites. I washed your white tee-"

“-You what? Y-You what?” Carmen spat, eye widening with a wild, raged glint in his eye. Your stomach flipped and fell with fear, stepping back instinctively. 

“I-I washed your tee, Carm, that’s all that you left in the laundry basket-” 

"-Are you fucking kidding me?" Carmen boomed, his head spinning, body buzzing with rage. Your breath hitched, frozen in fear at the anger in his tone, the roar of his voice bouncing off the walls, echoing through your ears in a painful drum. 

Carmen moved, snatching the dirty clothes basket, dumping it into the ground with a shake until the dirty chef coat fell on top. He gripped the basket, flinging it across the room with a hard throw. The final push to his bad mood that sent him right over the edge, crashing into a pit of blinding fury, aggravation, breaking him from the inside out.

"Fuck!" Carmen roared, his voice shaking the walls, your breath leaving your lungs in a trembling exhale of fear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is- This is- Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” 

You tensed in shock, gripping the baby monitor in fear, maybe surprise, as it started to buzz to life with Teddy's startled whimpers. Her small cries pulled you out of your frozen state, something deeper than fear replacing the ache in your stomach. 

"Carmen-" You gaped, voice wobbling with uncertainty, taking slow shuffled steps towards the stairs. “Carmen, calm-calm down. Ok? Calm down.” 

“Calm down? You want me to fuckin’ calm down?” Carmen sneered, an angry red flush blossoming in splotchy deep hues up his neck, towards his cheeks. “You don’t do shit, nothin’ that I fuckin’ ask for! Just sit around all fuckin’ day an-and I’m supposed to calm down?” 

“Carmen,” Your voice wobbled, throat tight with tears, hurt and fear strangling your words. “I-You didn’t ask me to wash them. I-I didn’t know. They weren’t in the hamper-” 

“-I shouldn’t have to ask you to wash them!” Carmen roared, eyes so wide you thought they might pop right out of his head, neck vein protruding on exemplifying his rage. “You know what I’m going through! You know how much fuckin’ stress I’m under! I go to that-that shit hole, an-and work my fuckin’ ass off so you don’t have to! Then I come home, and I-I can’t even get a second of peace!” 

“Stop,” You hiss, finally regaining your composure, his words fully sinking into you  now, feeling the full effect of them. “I-I just had a baby. I’m still on maternity leave taking care of a baby- our baby, and I’m tired too. But I’m not yelling at you-” 

“-Oh, right. Right.” Carmen laughs sarcastically, humorless as he runs his hand down his face. It felt mocking, left you feeling small and too vulnerable for your liking. “Because in between your napping an-and feeding, you couldn’t stick a fucking jacket in the wash, right? You’re so busy.”  

“What is wrong with you?” You snap, hoping he can’t hear the tears in your voice, the way your voice shakes with emotion. 

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me?” Carmen scoffs, throwing his hands out. “I get no fuckin' sleep, go work my fuckin' ass off, a-and then I come home so I can go back and work my ass off some more, and-and you can’t do one simple fuckin’ thing? You can’t help me out? And then you wanna know what’s wrong with me? When you sit on your ass all fuckin’ day-” 

Teddy’s piercing wail pulls you out of your shocked trance, nose and throat burning with hurt filled tears you refuse to shed. Instead, you turn, climbing the stairs on shaky legs, the sound of Teddy’s cries growing louder and louder. Anchovy watches you from the top of the stairs, sensing the tension, your upset, sliding against your leg as if to comfort you. 

Carmen scoffs, hands buzzing and trembling with rage, the ringing in his ears growing louder and louder with each of your footsteps on the stairs and down the hall. He can barely hear Teddy’s sobs, hands threading through his hair, pulling at his scalp. He sees you walk towards the bedroom, quickly, hugging Teddy to your chest. 

“Oh, don’t go fuckin’ do it now!” Carmen roared, your ignoring him only infuriating him further. “It won’t be ready in time now. I’ll just look like a fuckin’ idiot for the critic tonight! Not that you care! Why would you, huh? I-I mean just our livelihood, just our fuckin’ income!” 

You swallowed back your tears, head tilting towards the ceiling, hands shaking with every shove of your things into the overnight bag. Just enough to get you through the night, the next day. A few essentials, Teddy’s spare onesies, a charger, your wallet- you stopped mid-shove of your items into the weekender bag, the sun’s rays catching in your wedding ring. Your heart fell, more and more, you weren’t sure how that was even possible. 

Carmen’s furious voice was still booming from downstairs, ringing and shaking in his furious fit. Richie and Sugar both warned you about Carmen’s tantrums, brought them up to embarrass him, tease him about it until he was red faced and hissing hushed threats at them. You never, never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be on the receiving end of one. 

You jumped, another slam of something Carmen had thrown, maybe hit in a fit of rage, causing Teddy to wail louder, Anchovy skittering nervously away. Tears leaked out of your eyes, twisting the ring off your finger, setting it on Carmen’s bedside table. Pulling the carrier out of the closet, Anchovy got in much easier than usual, which you were thankful for. 

Carmen was gripping the marble of the countertop when he heard you again, walking from the bottom of the stairs, quick steps towards the door to the garage, Teddy’s voice nearly hoarse from her crying. You kept your head high, tunnel-visioned towards your car, ignoring his heavy breathing and frantic pacing. 

“Wha-What are you doin’?” Carmen’s voice was softer now, still with a jagged edge that was cutting and harsh. The car door opened, the baby carrier hooked into the car seat. 

“Hey, wha- what are you- where’re you goin’? What’re you doin’?” Carmen’s heart dropped in a damning rush of hour, stumbling on heavy legs towards the garage. You ignored him, shushing Teddy gently, running a calming hand over her wet cheek, trying to coax her paci into her mouth. 

“Baby, no-no, no. Hey, no, I-I- What-” Carmen’s chest felt tight, mind numbing and racing, stuttering nervously. You reached for your bag, his hand reaching to grab the strap. “Whe-Where’re you-”

“-Don’t touch me.” You hissed, teeth bared, eyes shining with tears. Carmen flinched, pulling his hand back like he’d touched a hot stove. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.” You sneered, pinning him with a watery glare that had his stomach turning in sickening fear. 

“Baby, hey, w-wait-C’mon, d-don’t-You don’t, you don’t need to do this, ok? I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Carmen choked out the words, frantic and unsure, his hands shaking when they ghosted over you back just for a moment. Wanting to touch you, to hold you, to grab you and keep you from leaving, but too scared to. Instead, he grabbed the car door you flung open, holding it when you tried to yank it closed. 

“Let go.” You hissed, sniffling back wet, snotty tears of fury and hurt. 

“Please, don’t-do-don’t do this. Please, baby, I-I’m sorry.” Carmen begged, blue eyes deepening with the burning red hues of tears, bloodshot and lashes wet. “Don’t-Don’t do this-” 

“-I didn’t do this.” You sneered, leaving Carmen flinching at your words. “Don’t you dare try to say this was me. After how you just talked to me? The shit you said to me in there? You think I’m going to stay?” Your voice cracked with emotion, lips pressing together to keep a cry in. 

“No, no, no, no, no, baby, please. Please, ju-just come inside. Come inside, please? Please, don’t-” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. To say that kinda stuff to me. That hurt, Carmen. That was mean.” You glared at him, tears leaking out of the corner of his eyes. “I don’t care if you’re stressed. I don’t care what’s going on- nothing, and I mean nothing, warrants you talking to me like that. Just because you fucked up, because you forgot to ask me to do it, because you’re stressed out- I don’t care what it is. You don’t talk to me like that, say those things when I’ve been home all day taking care of my ch- our child.” You nod back towards the sniffling baby, whimpering and crying half heartedly, her little eyelids drooping with sleep that was interrupted. 

Carmen felt sick, his knees tightening in fear, he was sure they might give out, that he might fall to the ground right there. Looking at the tiny baby, lip jutted and shaking in the mirror hooked on the back of the seat, then back at you, eyes red-rimmed and glaring at him with a hurt filled anger. 

“Don’t-” Carmen’s chest shook, a white-knuckled grip on the door. 

Your own hand curled around the door’s inner handle, yanking it away from him. “Move,” You hissed, pulling again. 

Carmen wasn’t sure why he let it go, why he let you shut it, locking the door in case he tried to open it again. Why he let you pull out of the driveway, why he didn’t stop you, why he didn’t run after you, only taking soft shuffles down the drive like a zombie as you drove away. Standing in the drive, Carmen swallowed down the spit that pooled in his mouth, stomach churning, sure he was going to be sick. 

He managed to trudge back to the garage, mind racing and far away, the ringing in his ears dulling but still deafening. It felt like he was in a dream- a nightmare, a hallucinating trance that felt like a sick, sick dream- Carmen was hoping it was. That he’d wake up and find you next to him asleep. That he could hug you, pull you into him, nose buried in your neck, still warm from your slumber. 

As the sun began to sink low into the sky, minutes turning into hours that Carmen sat motionless in the garage, staring in a trancelike state, he realized that this wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. No this was his reality, a horrific reality that he’d made into his own. Carmen sat, eyes trained on the concrete of the garage, voice racing and blending in his mind- his words, yours, Teddy’s cries, Natalie and Richie’s, flashbacks of his mother screaming fits. 

He didn’t move, frozen in chilling, eerie fear. What ifs and terrifying possible scenarios, consequences to his own actions that left him feeling sick, hands trembling. A spiraling of fears that only drug him deeper and deeper with every haunting replay of his outburst. Even the flashing of headlights turning into the driveway, filling the garage with light, didn’t pull him from his trance. 

“The fuck is he- Cousin!” Richie roared, laying on the horn. Carmen didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge that he heard it, only stared. Richie frowned, turning the car off, throwing the door open. 

“Cousin? Carm? What-What are you doin’? Dinner service started an hour ago. Syd is freakin’ the fuck out.” Richie threw his hands up, walking towards the man who still didn’t move. Richie’s heart skipped, flashbacks of Mikey flooding into his vision, parallels of the two brothers blurring before him. 

“Yo, Carm, you-you good?” Richie stepped into the garage, his spine tingling with icy fear. It was quiet, an eerie, unsettling quiet. “Cousin, hey, what-what’s wrong?” 

Carmen's chest rose and fell, tighter and tighter. He was suffocating, head spinning and mind racing so fast he felt light headed. He could barely hear Richie’s voice over the noise in his head, Richie’s hand shaking his shoulder finally breaking his trance enough to meet his eyes, rounded in fear filled question. 

“Carmen, what’s wrong? Is it- Don’t fuckin’ tell me it’s the baby. What the fuck is goin’ on-” 

“-She left.” Carmen’s voice shook, raspy and scared. His tongue still felt too thick, head still spinning. He wasn’t even sure he said it, Richie’s widening eyes the only thing confirming that he had said it. 

“What? Who-Who left? Who?” Richie looked around, like the clues might be there, sure that Carmen wasn’t talking about you. No, he wouldn’t- he couldn’t. Not you. 

Carmen’s breath hitched, a strangling of a sob caught in his throat, running his hand over his face. Richie didn’t miss the way it trembled, shaking even as it rested over his eyes. Your car was gone, the house too quiet, no baby Teddy crying, nothing but silence was left. 

Richie’s heartbeat crawled into a rapid, scared pace. “Why? Wh-Why would she-” Richie looked at Carmen, eyes wide but still, reading his expression. “No. No, Cousin, no. What-What did you do? Carmen,” Richie grabbed both his shoulders, shaking him lightly until he met his gaze. “What did you do?” 

Carmen’s face began to crack, behind his eyes, Richie could see flashbacks of something- something he didn’t know what, but whatever it was, it was painful. That was evident by the fear that glossed over Carmen’s eyes, realization and horror. Carmen’s shoulders shook, frame rocking with a sob he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Deep cries, guttural sobs breaking out of his frame, heels of his hands pressed to his eyes, fingers curled and clenched around his greasy curls in agony. 

The damning realization flooded over him, that you’d left. 

You’d left, you’d taken Teddy, taken Anchovy- you’d left because he’d driven you away. His angry outburst, petulant, mean, hurtful- he’d been so cruel to you. You. His wife, the love of his life, mother of his child, the one person who loved him endlessly without stipulations or boundaries, the one person who truly understood him. 

And he’d driven you away. 

He wished he could blame his mom, his dad, his family for fucking him up so severely, maybe Mikey, even, for leaving him the shit show that was the restaurant, making his anxieties worse and fuse shorter. But sitting in the empty garage, Richie standing above him in silent shock, his sobs and angry sniffles echoing off the cement floor, Carmen knew he had no one to blame but himself. 

He’d fucked up. Really fucked up. Fucked up in a way that made all the other times look obsolete. 

Carmen had fucked up, and for once, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t avoid it, ignore it, deflect it like other times. Half hearted apologies and promises of change wouldn’t work, you weren’t here for him to even try to give them to you, and he didn’t know where you went. 

Carmen wasn’t sure where you went, how to fix this, why he’d done what he did, and a million other things that raced through his mind. What he did know, sitting in the too quiet garage, chest stuttering with heaving cries, was that he’d do anything. 

Anything, to get you back home. To make it right. To fix this and make it up to you. 

He wasn’t sure how, but he’d give up everything. Anything. His restaurant, his dreams, his hopes, his life, at this point, to make it up to you. 

[miley1442111]

dealing with it- chef luca

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gif from @ wiha-jun

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summary: you see carmen for the first time in years, things happen, but at least your husband is there for you :)

pairings: chef luca x fem! reader, EX carmen berzatto x reader

warnings: smoking, cursing, reader endorses smoking (it makes sense i promise), toxic relationships, fighting, happy ending, luca is a cutie pie, carm is an ass :(

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Carmen had been staring at you the whole night. You, standing diligently beside your mother, and Luca. 

When dinner came and you sat beside Luca again, the question begged to leave his mouth, but he decided on waiting and watching. 

“So Y/n,” Sydney turned to you. “I would love to literally pick your brain apart for the inspo of your last cookbook.”

You chuckled. “Well, Luca and I went all around the world on our honeymoon and-”

“What?” Carmen choked on his drink. “S-sorry did I fucking hear that right? Honeymoon?”

Luca sighed deeply, the energy at the table shifting. “Yes Carm, she said ‘honeymoon’.”

Honeymoon. You and Luca were married. Married and he didn’t even know it. Married, and he hadn’t even known that his last chance had been his last chance. 

You were Chef Andrea’s daughter, and you were everyone’s forbidden fruit. You worked with them, trained with them, and Carmen had been so deeply interested in you, that he broke the rules. He went after you, and he didn’t even feel bad about it. You’d started out dating in secret, then slowly warmed your mom up to the idea, and suddenly it was out in the open. Sure you’d had fights and sure, maybe it wasn’t the most healthy relationship ever, but Carmen loved you. He still did. When it fell apart, it was all Carmen’s fault (as usual) and you’d sworn off chefs. 

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“Fucking hell Bear! I’m asking you to do this one fucking thing for me, and it’s too fucking hard?” You shouted at the top of your lungs. “I love you! I moved to fucking Coppenhagen for you! I moved to fucking New York for you! What is your problem with me taking a job in London?! I can probably get you into the same place-”

“NO! No, I fucking don’t alright? You’re fucking- you’re fucking boring! You never make anything new- you’re so f-fucking obsessed with being the-the-the best at something that you won’t even try to innovate!”

You stood there, in his kitchen and he watched as the tears fell. He took a deep breath and stepped closer, holding your waist in his hands. He tried not to be offended or upset when you went rigid as he touched you, but he felt his heart break. “Baby I-I’m sorry, look, y’know I’m sorry-” 

“You’re a piece of shit Carm. Just because I’m better than you doesn’t mean you get to talk to me like that. We’re not fucking trainees at my mom’s restaurant anymore, alright? I’m fucking better than you and i know it boils your fucking blood. I got this position. All on my own,” you spat. “You are the lowest of the low Carm. I swear to fucking god, if I ever date another chef again, kill me.”

And with that, you walked out. Out of his apartment and out of his life. 

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“W-wait so-s-, you two got married? Since when?” Carmen laughed, but it was wrong. It was forced and haunted, strange.  

“Since the 14th of July last year,” Luca smiled and you pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Congratulations guys,” Sydney smiled. “Carm, say congratulations,” she whispered and Carm nodded furiously.

“Yeah! Yeah- congratulations to the liar and her shitty douchebag of a husband!” He cheered, gathering the attention of the other tables. 

“Stop making a fucking scene Carm,” your voice cut through the ringing in his ears. “This isn’t about you. This is about my mom, and what this restaurant meant to people. Stop. Being. An. Asshole.”

He felt like he’d been effectively bitch slapped, and he quietened down, but not before kicking Luca under the table. 

They’d both been after you, back in the day. And you’d picked Carm at first, and realised your mistake. When you met Luca in London, you weren’t going to mess it up again. 3 years later, you were a year married, and a lot happier. Too bad Carmen had to make everything about himself, again.

He went out to get some ‘air’ a little while later, and you followed him. 

---------------------

“So…” you sighed, standing beside him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he sighed. He watched as you took a cigarette out and lit it, then offered one to him. He shook his head. 

“You quit?” You asked, blowing the smoke away from him. He nodded. “You should start again.”

He looked at you in confusion. “What?”

“You shouldn’t stop, you’re fucking crazy when you don’t smoke,” you chuckled, though everything you said was true. He’d tried to give it up for a month about 4 months into your relationship and it was the most stressful month of your life. You sighed as you thought about it. Every time he was rude to someone, you apologised for him. Every time he fucked something up, you made it up for him. Every time he did something stupid, you made it smart somehow. It was fucked up how much he relied on you, when you thought about it in hindsight. “Everyone will thank you.”

He laughed. “I guess that was a shitty month, huh?”

“One of the worst of my life,” you admitted. 

There was a moment of silence. 

“I miss it,” He admitted. 

“Smoking? You can have the rest of this pack-”

“Us.”

You sighed. “You were doing so well,” you joked. “Just don’t bring it up Carm, we don’t need to dig up the past.”

“I want to,” he pleaded. 

“I don’t,” you scoffed. “There’s nothing for us to talk about, nothing about us worked, nothing about us was ok, or normal, or happy, or-”

“Does he make you happy?” Carmen asked, venom in his tone. “Does he make you feel fuckin’-fuckin’ butterflies? Does he fuck you like I did? D-does he even see you the way I did? Does he make you laugh?”

“He doesn’t make me cry,” you smiled softly, thinking of Luca and how much you truly loved him. “He doesn’t make me question our relationship everyday. He doesn’t make me feel untalented and undeserving. He doesn’t make me feel used. He met me in London when I was crushed after our break-up, and he healed something he didn’t break in me, alright? He made me feel loved for the first time in a long time. My mom fucking loves him, a lot more than she liked you. He let me take everything at my own pace, and he never pushed me into something I wasn’t ready for. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for me to anyone! He didn’t make me question if we were even dating, ever! And the best part is, he fucking married me Carm, in this gorgeous ceremony where he cried while I came down the aisle and he cried during his vows. Do you want to know what his vows were? Ask him when we get inside, because he got his and mine fucking tattooed on his arm!” You were welling up at this stage. “He stood there with me, through thick and fucking thin, he made me feel loved when I felt unlovable, Carmen. And yes he gives me butterflies, yes he fucks me better than you ever did, and he sees me for who I am. So yes, he makes me very fucking happy Carmen.”

Carmen stood there for a moment, then nodded. “I still love you, you know that, right?”

You scoffed, stamping out your cigarette. “You might want to get over that,” and you turned away, and walked back into the dinner. The rest of the dinner was quick, and you skipped the invite to Sydney’s to retire to your hotel room. You sat on the bed, makeup wipes in hand as you tried to wash the night off of you. 

“Hey darling,” Luca’s soft voice cut through the thoughts clouding your mind. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You smiled as he wrapped you up in a bear hug from behind, he was so perfect, so kind, so Luca. “Sure.”

“I heard a little bit of what you said to Carmy outside.”

You took a deep breath. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Before tonight, I was really fucking scared that when you found Carmy he’d somehow convince you I was a piece of shit and he’d sink his fucking claws into you again.”

You pressed a kiss to his arm and nodded. “He’s fucking…”

“He’s the worst,” he finished for you. “And I’m sorry about what he said tonight. He should’ve had the fucking manners to at least let us get to the third course before he started being a piece of shit.”

You both laughed, and you felt all the tension you held in slowly dissipate. “It was so delicious.”

“It was fucking amazing,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You mum really did something special there.”

“At least we’ll see her more in London,” you shrugged. “I really loved that place.”

“So did I,” He sighed against your neck. “Remember training there? God, you were so fucking cute in your chef’s hat-”

“Hats make me look stupid!” You argued, but laughed regardless. You flung his arms off of you, and a wrestling match ensued, one that ended with him under you. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, then he deepened it, his hands sneaking up your thighs and around your head. 

“You look good in anything,” he whispered. “But my favourite thing you ever wore was your wedding dress.”

When you pulled away from his lips you saw the starry-eyed smile and sincere look on his face, and you knew you made the right choice. 

Luca was your everything. Carmen was nothing now, and he had to live with that.

---------------------

the bear masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

[batshit-auspol]

have we talked about the woolworths debacle yet?

Sigh.

Alright kids strap in, because the culture wars are back and stupider than ever.

So there are two characters you need to be familiar with in this story before we continue:

Woolies (i.e. Woolworths) - One of two supermarket chains in Australia. Not related to the giant Woolworths chain that used to exist overseas, other than the Aussie one swiped the name because the original forgot to trademark the name 'Woolworths' here. Biggest company in Aus, and also the biggest employer. Not a brand anyone with more than two braincells would pick a fight with.

Peter Dutton - Man with less than two braincells, and current leader of the political opposition in Australia. Best known for bearing a passing resemblance to a potato and once demanding that a homophobic song get played for balance when a football halftime show performed 'Same Love'. His reputation is so bad that if you told an Australian that Dutton's favorite pastime was drowning puppies, they probably would believe you.

And to prove our point, here's the best headline a friendly newspaper could come up with to try spin his image:

The third thing you need to know is that in Australia we have a national holiday called "Australia Day" which is basically a scheduled day for everyone to get into a giant argument.

This is because for the last 30ish years it has been held on the anniversary of the British claiming the land around Sydney as a colony which was:

a) More the founding of an English prison then the founding of Australia, and more importantly

b) from the perspective of the people who were already living here, kindof a very shit day

Now not everyone agrees on this, and even those that don't 'celebrate' will often still have a get together with friends, but it can't be denied that we've shifted a long way from the days when the country used to celebrate Australia Day by kitting ourselves out in Aussie flag budgie smugglers, drinking enough beer to drown Harold Holt, and partying like it's 1789.

(Now a brief break for a real photo of Peter Dutton at a press conference)

Good luck sleeping tonight. Anyway back to the story.

As a result of this shift away from the trend of showing your patriotism by wearing Australian flag underpants, this year Woolworths decided that they were no longer going to be rolling out their box of southern cross thongs - on the grounds that "this kitschy shit never sells" and they are far too busy with more important things like blaming price gouging on inflation and installing self-checkout machines that think your canvas bag is a crime against humanity.

Never a man to miss an opportunity to act like a massive twat, upon hearing that Woolies had dumped their flag merch, Peter Dutton rushed onto the airwaves to declare that Woolworths had "gone woke" (paging 4chan circa 2009) and called for the country to boycott the store, a story which Australia's media have gleefully put on loudhale for over a week now in order to drive outrage clicks.

We at this point remind you that Woolworths is a company which, as we previously mentioned, basically has a monopoly on selling food in this country. Not exactly something you can boycott.

(Another real Dutton photo break)

Needless to say Dutton's dumbass plan did not immediately put Woolies out of business, however the relentless media campaign by Rupert Murdoch's minions did result in a bunch of innocent low-wage floor staff being harrassed by The Dark Lord's fanboys and a few Woolies stores were graffitied.

Allegedly being the 'free market' guy, Dutton also kindof snookered himself by demanding the free market not decide the fate of Australia day, but logic was never one of his strong suits.

Anyway, in the end we're just going to keep having this dumb circular argument every year, fulled by a media who love fanning the flames, until a politician has the guts to shift the date to May 8 (pronounced m8), and everyone promptly forgets this was ever a thing.

All in all, that's the long and the short of it. As a final touch we'll leave you with this real tweet by Opposition Leader Peter Dutton, in all its batshit glory.

We look forward to the absolute dumpster fire of comments this post is going to generate - as is the Australia Day tradition.

[mapiforpresident]

Can you please write number 27 with Obi? I love your stories!!!

Professional Conduct (Or Lack Thereof)

Obi x reader

~~~

It started off like a normal training session. The kind where everyone was still a little sore from gym work the day before, trying not to show it. A light warm-up, a few passing patterns, some finishing drills that surprisingly no one took too seriously, and then, as always, small-sided games.

Red vs. white bibs.

Lena ended up on white. You were on red.

You made eye contact across the pitch and she gave you that smirky little look. The one that said she already had a plan.

So you should’ve known.

The second you got the ball, she was on you.

You pivoted, back to goal, trying to shield it, but her arm snaked around your waist like it belonged there. Not in the “I’m here to steal the ball” way. More like the “this is mine” kind of way.

“Lena,” you warned, twisting away. “This is training.”

She just smiled and kept moving, hips brushing yours way more than necessary as you passed off the ball.

Next play, same thing. She pressed up behind you again, tighter this time, like her job was to make sure your shirts were touching. Her hand landed on your side, then your stomach, lingering for maybe half a second too long as you turned out of pressure.

You snapped your head over your shoulder and muttered low enough that only she could hear, “Your hands are all over me during drills.”

She grinned, completely unrepentant. “Blame muscle memory.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Mine or yours?”

“Both, probably,” she said, voice low and annoyingly smug.

You rolled your eyes and stepped away to reset, but not before adding under your breath, “Save it for the bedroom, Oberdorf.”

You didn’t think she’d hear you. She definitely did.

You heard her stumble, just for a beat, then she coughed to cover her laugh as the coach whistled to restart the drill. You didn’t look back, but you could feel her smirking behind you.

And sure enough, next time she marked you, she wasn’t pressing quite as close. Still physical, still competitive, she wouldn’t be Lena if she weren’t, but she’d dialed it back enough to at least pretend she wasn’t enjoying this a little too much.

After a solid twenty minutes of drills, the whistle blew for a quick water break. You made your way to the cooler and barely got your bottle open before Lena came up behind you, leaning in like she couldn’t help herself.

“You’re not mad at me, right?” she asked, voice all faux-innocent.

You side-eyed her. “You were acting like we were warming up for a completely different kind of cardio.”

Lena didn’t even blink. “Maybe I was just getting ready for game-day intensity.”

“Game day doesn’t usually involve you grabbing my hips and breathing down my neck.”

“Only because it’s not allowed.”

You looked at her, unamused. “We’re still at training, you menace.”

She just smiled, biting back another laugh, eyes sparkling. “You looked cute focused. I got distracted.”

You shook your head and took a long sip of your water, mostly so you wouldn’t smile back.

A few of the others started trickling over, Klara, Georgia, Sydney, and you straightened up quickly, slipping into your usual not-dating-my-teammate face as Klara passed by.

“You two fighting again or flirting again?” Klara asked casually, like it made a difference.

You didn’t answer, but Lena just bumped your shoulder and muttered, “Definitely flirting.”

“Training flirting,” Georgia added, deadpan. “My favorite genre.”

“Save it for the locker room,” Sydney chimed in, laughing.

You turned to Lena and whispered one last time, low enough that the others couldn’t hear, “Seriously. Save it for the bedroom.”

She leaned closer, barely touching, and said without missing a beat, “I’ll try… but I make no promises.”

God help you.

[neonovember]

Back to You

part two to all for you

after the fight at the bear, you find yourself ready to run. carmen doesn't let you.

w/c: 2.4k

a/n: she's short. she's gone through many deletions and rewrites and i'm still not completely happy with it but I'm posting it anyways lmao. it's very wordy but how else am I going to untangle the clusterfuck that is this relationship? this is CARMEN.

At first, you don't know where to go. You walk twenty blocks until your feet ache and the cold bites at your cheeks, you walk until you get to the second last stop on the L, you walk until you forget Carmen, the soup and everything you had left wanting in the bear hallway.

You find that you don’t like how your own blood tastes, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes as juttered cold air when you realise Carmen still had domain over your tastebuds. 

You don’t forget him, you can’t forget him.

The feeling is quick as it morphs back into the nauseous anger, like the press of your imprints into the snow before it falls back into the sheet of white that covers the city. You don’t want to think about the bear but it comes in flashes, in waves muddled with the pieces of the past that had felt like stomach acid burning your throat.

You had thought you made peace with the memories of Carmen and you from so long ago, in the silence after he had left for Chicago and for Mickey that filled your apartment. So why did it feel like you were back there again? Like he had left you? Like you were left to swallow the embarrassment and betrayal- your vision blurs when you try to make sense of it. A couple yells as you push past them on the sidewalk, hand over your mouth when you try to blink them away.

Carmen had looked at you, in the moments before you left the Bear. His eyes were glassy and red, his mouth was open and he looked at you like he had broken something. You hated it, god you did. You wanted to scream, to break something but all you did was laugh. And then cry. And then laugh again.

You didn't know what you wanted really, an apology? What could Carmen say to fix what had happened? You can’t find reason and that scares you more than anything, that you would be stuck with this sick, this plague of a feeling that you could not fix.  

It would be the end of you both, and you didn’t know if Carmen would change. If he could be who you wanted him to, and suddenly you feel embarrassed. Like maybe you were trying to fit yourself into his life where it could not be, squeeze yourself into a space that was too small, and that they all could tell. That they saw how your limbs jutted and you were crouched in the crawl space. Could someone love him better? Someone that would make sense rather than your misshapen, haunted past ever could. Did he believe that?

Did he know that? Now? After you had made a fool of you both?

You wanted to run away, to escape before he could leave you. You can’t go back home, you can't go back to an apartment he will leave you in.

You feel the buzz of your phone in your coat pocket, and it’s not till you slump your tired body onto a park bench do you remember you hadn’t left it in the Bear. You see the bundle of missed calls, nearly bulging off the fogged up screen of your cracked phone. You see Sydney, and Richie, and Sugars name and you find that you still have tears to give when you can’t find Carmen's. 

Everything is a blur in the moments after, like your vision was now clouded by a haze, by the grief of finally losing him. He hadn't said it, and you didn't dare speak it aloud but it was true wasn’t it? You felt it, like a part of you was missing, left on that table or hallway or wherever else the Bear keeps parts of you.

You grip the rusted fence of the harbour, watch as the night waves crash violently against each other, loop and swirl in the undertow, pull itself down and under and up again.

You would let him go. Retract the canines and the pressed finger nails that you had sunk into him when you found him again.

The gasped cries that leave your mouth are uncontrollable, and you thank the waves for concealing them from the foot traffic behind. Your hands shake as you stuff them into your jacket, throat raw and eyes burning as you stagger into the backseat of a taxi.

The driver pauses when he turns his shoulder, bushy eyebrows and eyes that looked like they would be kind if it wasn’t near midnight. He begins to open his mouth but you beat him to it and spit out your apartment address. When the soft melody of “That's Life” sputters out of the radio you close your eyes and press your cheek to the window, murmuring the lyrics into the fogged glass. 

-- -

You're stuffing whatever clothes you would need into a bag when your phone rings. You ignore it, try to think of the earliest way to get back to New York that didn't cost an arm, or at least only half.

But your phone doesn't stop, the blaring piano notes shouting at you from where you had thrown it. In truth, you were scared. Scared to flip the screen and see his name, scared to see that it wasn't him. But it rings again and falls off your couch, flips so that the screen blares out anyways.

It's a number you don't recognise, and when you swipe the reciever you hear Tina's voice, or more so the sigh of relief she whispers into the phone.

"Finally. God, baby we were getting worried"

"Tina?"

"You okay baby?" Tina replies softly

You hear rustling in the background, and catch pieces of Richie and Sugars voice calling out before Tina shushes them.

"Yes" You squeeze out from the space between the lodged brick in your throat.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Carmen was being a fucking idiot yeah? And I don't know what he was thinking, I don't know what happened before we met you. But what I know, what all of us know is that Carmen would be the so foolish to let you go."

"It's over Tina. He- I can't force something he doesn't want" You whimper

"Force? Baby do you know Carmen when he didn't have you? Do you see the way that man watches your every move? Just silently, he has this wonder and concentration when hes cooking. Like his mind is finally blank and he can breath and it's the same, it's the same look he has with you."

"You have him. Completely. Even more so than I think anything ever will. You know that right?"

Your mouth is open, blinking when Tina calls your name

"But, I thought..he let me leave Tina. It isn't like he's been trying to call or reach me-"

"That's probably because he left damn near everything but his shoes runnin' after you"

"What?"

"You think he would just let you leave?" Tina replies, voice high, like she found it the most impossible thing to believe.

“He just stood there in the hallway. Didn’t say a word, left running and we let him. We damn near pushed him out the door. Didn’t even have a jacket on, the mans running around in negative degrees with a white shirt on”

"He is?" You whisper

And you don't have time to hear Tina's reply, because you hear Carmen instead. Outside your door, his voice straining as he begs for you.

You drop your phone to the ground with a shake, and in flashes your at the door, opening it wide until the cold rush of snow hits your nose and you see him beneath you.

He came to you, he came back to you. He’s gripping the door frame on his knees in the snow, chest heaving, cheeks pink and eyes only on you.

You can't speak, eyebrows furrowed as you blink and blink and see his face straining up to you every time.

“Forgive me, forgive me forgive me. I could never leave you, no.” Carmen continues to beg, eyes red and twitching, unblinking when a tear escapes.

“I can never take back what I did to you, what I did to us. That was me, that was me running back to Chicago, running back to Mikey, to try and fix a dead brother”

“I left you there like you weren’t everything”. Carmen lets out an exhaled gasp, like he was just now realising it.

“I was scared, you know? You knew me, you knew me. So when Mikey-when I found out” Carmen shakes his head

“I was something I didn’t know I could be. You were the first- the first person to ever sit in my mind. And then I had to turn dirt over Mikey's casket and suddenly everything I did, everything I saw was him. How could I come back to you, how could I beg you when I wasn’t the same man I was when I left? When I couldn't even breathe, when I was too busy weeping in bathroom stalls to smoke. And I couldn't, I couldn't do it, i just fucking couldn’t.”

You don’t speak, the cold wind as you stare down at him. The feelings, New York, the Bear swirl in front of you, in Carmen's cerulean blues, in his golden hair darkened by the snow, in the slope of his neck as he looks at you.

You can’t run from it anym-

“But I know better now. I lost you once and I won’t let it happen again. I’ll stay out here all night until you have to step over my corpse in the snow I swear it. I’ll die out here waiting for you”.

“I was getting bad, and you knew it. And I fought you on it because I have a problem with people pointing out the truth. I didn't want to accept I needed to slow down, it was just I finally had this thing, this piece of me I made you know? And every night, every time I would enter the door I’d walk into the bathroom and puke. I-I was so sure, so sure it would end up ruined.”

“That aint an excuse, fuck it isn’t. What I did, I can't take back” Carmen shakes his head

“I hurt you, I hurt you. Left you all alone in that apartment, made you think I didn’t love you, a fucking coward. I never stopped, even when I promised myself I wouldn't come back to look for you. I would let you go after Mikey, after what I did.”

“But at night I would dream of you, I would keep pieces of you, like it was strapped to my fucking chest. The guilt wasn’t enough, it didn't stop me needing any part of you I could remember. Didn’t stop me standing in the middle of a fucking grocery isle smelling the soap you used to use”

“Then I blinked and I could kneel and press my face into your skin instead. And I didn’t say anything because I had you again- how fucked up is that? I should have told you to run away, to leave, I should have begged you too. But I didn't, I can’t. It’s selfish and cruel but I have to have you, in whatever way you can give me. 

He's breathing heavily now, palm pressed against his chest as he grinds his jaw and lets the tear spill a trail down his neck.

“Now every night I dream of you. I hope I'm haunted by you leaving me. So I know what I need when I wake up.”

And you don't know how, you don't know how that part of you slips out from its stitched imprint on your heart and melts away. Melts away like the snow under your feet when you step out onto your porch. And you don’t say anything, you don't have to really, Carmen watches you. Watches the way your face twists and changes and crawls up your body to hold you into him.

-- -

“Are you sure about this Carm?” You turn your head.

Carmen simply wraps the scarf tighter around your neck as he nods, killing the engine and leans against the driver's seat.

“You should've been there, at the funeral you know?”

“He was your brother Carmen”

“Exactly” Carmen exhales sharply, grinding his jaw as his eyes shift to the cemetery car park outside. Out into the field of snow, with their stone heads poking through, the few stragglers walking across the path.

It’s silent, just your cold breaths leaving smoked exhales in the space of the car. 

“Haven't visited him since the funeral.”

“Could hardly even stand up straight then, when I first heard about it- felt so heavy. Like I was sinking into the ground”.

 “And I had this headache.” Carmen swallows

“No no it wasn't a headache really, it was- it was just the weight of him in my mind. The memory of him you know? An anchor, just dragging me down, trying not to crumble and fall and just stay there. Always there, always reminding me, he'd cover my eyelids when I tried to fall asleep. Just flashes of him, his hair, his shoulders.”

“One time I chased after a man, while I was at the farmers market for one of our new menus, I chased after him through the crowd thinking it was Mikey. I chased after the nape of his neck and in that short moment, where the fear and anxious and hopeful delusion drove me to that? I had him.”

“And then I remembered, and so I can’t come here. I couldn’t. How could I when he would refuse to leave my mind? My fucking temple.” 

“Carm” You whisper

“But I'm here now. Because you are also. And I think that headache has started to make room for it. For you. Only you. And maybe I'll start to remember him differently, in the back, warm and sad all the same. But I’d have you to remember, you to have as well”.

And so you did. You and Carmen stepped out into the gravelled road, leading to the polished footpath. Until you stop at the stone engraving of Mikey, and you hold Carmen when he crumbles slowly to the floor. And you sit with him until the snow melts and his cracked cries slow. Until the leaves turn and the stone ages and your children recognise Mikey as the man their dad talks to every Friday.

tags

@nolita-fairytale @kpopgirlbtssvt @parmforcarm @btskzfav @eed-a-life-or-grass @mccaffreyswifey @yousigned-upforthis @noxiousfeline @juleshadalittlelamb @jep24 @shaq-27

[kathlare]

brunette fever

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: After a hectic day on set, Amelie rushes home to Lando, leading to an evening filled with playful teasing, heartfelt moments, and cozy domestic chaos.

Wordcount: 2.6 k

Warnings: just fluff

request over here!

April 23rd, 2025 - Los Angeles, CA

liked by sydnmeliefan, euphoriaiconz, and others

euphoriatvupdates: Sydney Sweeney and Amelie Dayman were spotted filming scenes for Euphoria Season 3 today!

View all 57,912 comments

lanmeliebrainrot: WAIT AMELIE'S BRUNETTE AGAIN??? GOD IS REAL. 🙌🏽 → bratzfan2000: @lanmeliebrainrot her power is unmatched rn 😭 maddy is BACK.

maddyfan_irl: not to be dramatic but i would die for brunette Amelie. 💔 → paddockbabe: @maddyfan_irl babe same. she’s mother now, always has been.

sydnmeliefan: the SERVE that’s coming... we are NOT ready. → snlmelie: @sydnmeliefan syd + ames in the same episode is gonna end careers 🔥

ameliedaydreams: MOTHER IS BACK. MOTHER IS ACTING. MOTHER IS SLAYING. 📣📣📣

melie_wicked: two years break and she just pops back into euphoria like she owns HBO 😭 LEGEND. → landonrizz: @melie_wicked she took a lil tour, slayed music, slayed love, and now back to slay us. 🫡

lanmelieedits: guys be serious it’s 10000% a wig she’s not giving up blonde after fighting for it 😭 → foryouamelie: @lanmelieedits she’s dedicated to the role bestie let’s not underestimate Maddy Perez 😌

euphoriaiconz: amelie being brunette again is my roman empire. → amezslays: @euphoriaaiconz DAILY. HOURLY. EVERY 30 MINUTES.

vroomvroomqueen: amelie filming AND looking like a brunette goddess?? lando stay strong bro. 🧎🏻‍♀️

maddysrings: AMELIE IS BRUNETTE AGAIN EVERYONE STAY CALM 🚨🚨🚨 → euphoriacore: @maddysrings i'm NOT calm i’m LOSING ITTTT 😭

lanmelieobsessed: THE HAIR. THE ATTITUDE. MADDY PEREZ IS BACKKK 🔥🔥🔥 → vivalanmelie: @lanmelieobsessed maddy season 3 supremacy incominggg

f1xdrama: how’s lando breathing rn bc IM NOT 💀

euphoriawh0re: the SASS she’s gonna bring this szn is gonna be ILLEGAL → sugargirllano: @euphoriawh0re she’s about to make maddy the MAIN CHARACTER again idgaf 😭

-------------

Amelie hurried through the front door of her Los Angeles house, Benny cradled in one arm, the other struggling to push the door closed behind her. She still had her brunette wig on — a silky, dark chestnut that clung to her face, remnants of Euphoria’s filming hours earlier. Her cheeks were flushed, not from the California heat, but from the rush of making it home in time. She promised Lando they’d have dinner tonight, and after the crazy-ass week they both had, she wasn’t about to let him down.

She toed off her uggs clumsily, giggling softly as Benny batted at her shoelaces like the clingy little menace he was, before padding through the house toward the familiar sound of her boyfriend’s intense concentration.

Through the cracked door of the sim room, Amelie spotted him immediately — headset on, hyper-focused, hands flying across the steering wheel. His hair was a mess of caramel curls, his shoulders relaxed but sharp with focus. Fuck, she thought, heart squeezing a little. How was he always so fucking cute even when he was doing the most nerdy shit?

—Lan, baby, dinner time— she called out softly, voice sing-song as she shifted Benny onto her hip. The cat grumbled but stayed, nuzzling into her neck.

No response.

She smirked, rolling her eyes.

—Landooo— she said again, a bit louder. —If you make me starve to death in my own house, I’m haunting your ass.—

Still nothing.

Amelie huffed, stepping fully into the room now, Benny’s tail flicking against her arm.

—LAN.—

Lando finally turned around mid-race, pulling his headset off... and froze. Completely froze.

His eyes widened the second he saw her — really saw her — standing there with her brunette hair falling messily around her face, Benny cradled in her arms like some needy little teddy bear. Lando's mouth opened slightly, like he was trying to form a sentence but his brain just... short-circuited.

—Fuck me,— he breathed, voice low, almost reverent.

Amelie tilted her head, a mischievous smile curling at the corner of her lips. —That was not the response I was expecting.—

Lando still didn’t move, like he was looking at a ghost. Or a memory. His chest rose and fell faster, hands slipping off the wheel as he spun in his chair to fully face her.

—You...— he started, voice cracking, —you look like... fuck, Ames.—

Amelie giggled, walking over, Benny still clinging to her like a clingy little koala. —You’re acting like you’ve never seen me before.—

—Not like that,— Lando muttered, his eyes raking over her, drinking in the brunette strands, the way they framed her face, softer, familiar in a way that dug straight into his ribs and cracked them open.

Because that's how she looked when he first met her. Back in 2020, when he was just a wide-eyed idiot with a stupid massive crush, playing video games with her until stupid o'clock just to hear her laugh. When they used to sneak around, clumsy kisses and desperate touches, her dark hair spilled over his pillows.

The ache was instant.

Lando stood up so fast his chair rolled back and hit the wall with a thunk. Benny let out a startled meow and bolted out of Amelie's arms, but she barely had time to register it because Lando was on her.

His hands cupped her jaw, almost unsure for half a second, like he needed permission... and then he kissed her.

Hard.

The kind of kiss that dragged a soft gasp out of her, that stole her breath and curled her toes against the hardwood floor.

Amelie laughed against his mouth, trying to push him gently away, but he just growled and kissed down her jaw, her neck, fingers tangling in the back of her wig like he couldn’t help himself.

—Lan, baby, the food,— she mumbled, half-heartedly.

He just hummed, pressing his forehead against hers. —Fuck the food.—

She laughed, tipping her head back so he could mouth at her throat. —You’re such a whore when I’m brunette.—

—You’re a fucking weapon when you’re brunette,— he groaned. His accent got heavier when he was flustered, words warm against her skin. —You’ve got no idea what you’re doing to me, Ames. No fucking idea.—

Amelie grinned, but eventually managed to plant both hands firmly on his chest and shove him back a step. He whined. Actually whined.

—You,— she said, poking his forehead, —are gonna start dinner. Right now. Because if you keep doing that, we’re never gonna eat and I am fucking starving.—

Lando pouted dramatically. —But you look like that.—

—And I’m about to look like a corpse if you don’t feed me.—

He threw his head back with a groan but finally, finally, dragged himself toward the kitchen, muttering under his breath about how she was "mean as hell" and "unfair" and "completely bloody gorgeous".

Amelie snickered to herself and padded down the hall toward the bedroom. She peeled the wig off carefully once she reached the bathroom, tossing it onto the counter with a relieved sigh. Immediately, her real hair — her bright, messy blonde — flopped out, and she ran her fingers through it, giving her scalp a grateful little scratch.

—God, that’s better,— she muttered, tying it up into a quick messy bun before stepping into the shower.

It was a quick rinse — she didn’t want to leave Lando alone too long or he might burn the house down — and when she came out, she tugged on one of his old hoodies (so fucking big it swallowed her) and a pair of tiny shorts before wandering barefoot back into the kitchen.

Lando was at the stove, brow furrowed in intense concentration as he flipped something in a pan. Benny was weaving around his ankles, meowing like he hadn’t eaten in years even though Amelie knew he had been fed.

She leaned against the doorframe, smiling softly at the sight.

—You look like a househusband,— she teased.

Without turning around, he said —You look like the hottest fever dream I've ever had.—

Amelie laughed, walking over and wrapping her arms around his waist from behind, resting her cheek against his back. He relaxed immediately into her, like muscle memory.

—Blonde again, huh?— he teased, glancing at her over his shoulder.

She smirked. —Don’t sound so disappointed.—

He turned slightly so he could kiss the top of her head. —Never disappointed, baby. Just...— He trailed off, smirking. —You have no idea what brunette-you does to me. Dangerous. I nearly fucking proposed right there on the sim rig.—

Amelie snorted, giving his ass a playful squeeze that made him jump.

—You’re such a little simp,— she said fondly.

Lando flipped the food again and gave her a wicked grin. —Only for you, Ames. Always have been.—

Her heart did a stupid little flip in her chest. Fucking hell, how did he still make her feel like she was sixteen and falling for him for the first time?

She stretched up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. —Lucky me.—

He bumped her nose with his playfully. —Luckiest bastard alive, actually.—

And as the kitchen filled with the smell of whatever half-burnt thing he was attempting to cook, and Benny pawed at her leg demanding attention, and Lando kept sneaking little kisses every time he passed her a plate, Amelie couldn’t help but think that yeah — maybe they were both pretty fucking lucky after all.

-------------

jadenhossler replied to your story

jadenhossler: screaming crying throwing up rn ameliedayman: ur so dramatic for WHAT jadenhossler: i miss brunette u like crazy even tho it’s fake 💔 ameliedayman: love u 4 that.

maxfewtrell replied to your story

maxfewtrell: no way you switched up on us brunette girl era again?? ameliedayman: for today only 🤓 maxfewtrell: thank god, blondie supremacy forever 🙏🏼 ameliedayman: rude

chandlerkinney replied to your story

chandlerkinney: MY BRUNETTE WIFE IS BACK 🥹 ameliedayman: she's fake tho 💔 chandlerkinney: idc i’m printing out the pic and framing it ameliedayman: i support women’s rights and wrongs. thank u.

victoriadayman replied to your story

victoriadayman: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE 😭😭😭 victoriadayman: amelie. you know i HATED when you went dark. you looked like a STRANGER. victoriadayman: you had such a beautiful light aura!! ameliedayman: MOM RELAX IT’S A WIG 😭😭 victoriadayman: you almost made me cry lmaooo

callumdayman replied to your story

callumdayman: emo core. ameliedayman: 😂😂 you WISH you had this range. callumdayman: send a pic to abuela see what she says lmao

joshrichards replied to your story

joshrichards: ok wait brunette ams is lowkey a different person 👀 ameliedayman: alter ego unlocked. joshrichards: tell her i said what’s up 😏 ameliedayman: BLOCKED

-------------

The plates clinked softly as Lando set the last one down on the kitchen island, flashing a proud little smirk even though most of the credit for not burning the food belonged to Amelie.

—Dinner is served, m’lady,— he said in an exaggerated British accent, pulling her stool out like a proper gentleman.

Amelie giggled, flopping down dramatically onto the seat. —Thank you, my good sir. Your services are appreciated.—

Benny immediately tried to climb onto her lap, his nose twitching at the scent of food. Björn, meanwhile, was perched on the counter, glaring down like an unimpressed little gargoyle, tail flicking dangerously close to Lando’s plate.

—Björn, I swear to God, if you touch my chicken,— Lando warned, pointing a fork at the grey menace.

Björn blinked slowly, clearly plotting how to ruin Lando’s life.

Amelie just laughed, scratching under Benny’s chin as she leaned over to steal a bite off Lando’s plate. —You know he doesn’t listen to threats. He only respects violence.—

—Remind me to sleep with one eye open tonight.—

Amelie grinned, popping the stolen bite into her mouth. —Good idea. He’ll probably sit on your face again if you’re not careful.—

Lando groaned, glaring at Björn who was now grooming himself like he hadn't just tried to plot a full-blown heist on the chicken. —Why does he hate me so much? I feed him. I pet him.—

—He senses weakness,— Amelie teased, smirking as she forked some veggies onto her own plate. —Benny loves you though.— She glanced down where Benny was curled up on her lap, his head resting on Lando’s thigh, purring like a motor.

Lando gave Benny a fond scratch behind the ears, his expression softening immediately. —Benny’s my boy. At least someone in this house respects me.—

—Excuse me?— Amelie arched an eyebrow.

Lando grinned, leaning over to nudge her shoulder. —You respect me too, sunshine. In certain situations.—

Amelie rolled her eyes, cheeks heating slightly. —You’re unbelievable.—

—You love me,— he shot back instantly, grinning like the cocky little shit he was.

And goddamn it, she did. More than she ever thought possible.

The conversation drifted from there—light, easy. They talked about stupid TikTok trends, the ridiculous amount of traffic in LA, how Max had texted Lando a meme of a clown after his last sim race. Nothing important. Nothing serious.

Just… them.

Lando was mid-story about how one of his engineers accidentally spilled an entire coffee on Zak’s shoes last week when Amelie suddenly zoned out a little, her fork paused halfway to her mouth.

It wasn’t the story. She’d heard plenty of those.

It was him. The way he sat across from her, relaxed, hoodie sleeves pushed up, talking with his hands like he always did when he was animated. His curls still slightly damp from his shower, cheeks flushed from the heat in the kitchen.

It was the smell of dinner they’d cooked together. The sound of Benny’s soft purrs and Björn’s occasional irritated meow. The faint hum of the dishwasher running in the background.

It was… domestic.

So fucking domestic.

And something about that hit her like a truck.

Because this — this stupid, simple, quiet moment — felt so right. So normal in the middle of the absolute circus that was their lives.

She could get used to this.

Fuck, she wanted to get used to this.

To come home after a long day of filming and know he’d be here. To bicker over who burned the pasta. To fall asleep with Benny on her feet and Lando’s arm around her waist. To wake up to his sleepy face buried in her neck.

Her chest tightened, a weird mix of warmth and terror flooding her veins.

She hadn’t said any of it out loud. She wasn’t even sure she was ready to admit it to herself fully.

But she felt it.

He was her home.

Even when they were a mess, even when they were miles apart, even when the world felt like it was spinning too fast — he was the constant. The anchor.

Her eyes flickered back to him. He was still talking, completely oblivious to her internal monologue, making some dramatic gesture with his fork.

And she smiled. Soft. Private.

God, she was so fucked.

—Ames?— Lando’s voice snapped her back, his brows furrowing as he looked at her. —You zoned out. You good?—

She blinked, realizing she’d been staring like a lovesick idiot. —Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sorry.—

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. —Thinking about how hot I looked in the sim rig earlier?—

She snorted. —Yeah, sure. That was it.—

He laughed, reaching across the counter to steal a piece of broccoli off her plate, popping it into his mouth with a triumphant smirk.

She just watched him for a moment longer, her heart doing that stupid fluttery thing again.

Maybe she didn’t have to have it all figured out right now. Maybe it was okay to just… feel it.

Let it simmer.

Let it grow.

She’d talk to him eventually. About the future. About what she wanted. About what they wanted.

But tonight?

Tonight she just wanted to sit here, eat half-burnt chicken, and bask in the quiet, stupid, perfect normalcy of it all.

She reached across the table and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together without saying a word.

Lando blinked down at their hands, then looked up at her, an eyebrow raised in question.

She just smiled.

—What?— he asked, a soft grin tugging at his lips.

Amelie shrugged, squeezing his hand gently. —Nothing. Just… like you.—

His grin widened, eyes softening in that way that always made her insides melt.

—Yeah?— he asked, voice teasing but his thumb stroked over her knuckles like he already knew.

—Yeah,— she whispered back.

And for once, the silence between them didn’t feel like something that needed filling.

It just… was.

And it was enough.

[smellslikechahnspirit]

FAKE TEXTS SKZ

🤍 : fluff, soft, still might contain swearing

🕸 : MIGHT CONTAIN SOME adult themes, emotional, maybe trigger warning

[R]: requested (41)

OT8, 스트레이 키즈 :

You're addicted to caffeine 🕸🤍 [R]

Mistreated by "friends" 🕸🤍 [R]

You're not feeling well 🤍 [R]

Christopher Chahn Bahng, 방찬 :

You had a crush on Felix 🤍

You got your period 🤍

You've gained some weight 🤍

You had a panic attack 🕸🤍

You couldn't find your tampon 🤍

Your parents were fighting 🕸🤍

He's late...again 🤍

You thought he would be angry 🕸🤍

You were having a hard time 🕸🤍

You didn't shave 🤍

You were drunk 🕸🤍

He's scared to lose you 🕸🤍

He's bored and can't sleep 🕸🤍

You're angry at everything but him 🕸🤍

He thinks you're pregnant 🤍

He's worried about you 🕸🤍

Mutual love? 🕸🤍 [R]

He feels like he's neglected you 🕸🤍 [R]

You're grieving 🕸🤍

You're fighting 🕸🤍

He's being a tease 🕸🤍

You have a toxic friend 🕸🤍 [R]

You feel insecure about your body after pregnancy 🕸🤍 [R]

Fighting due to your PMSing 🕸🤍

You don't want to bother him 🕸🤍

He's jealous 🤍

He found your vape 🕸🤍

You lost his expensive gift 🤍

He wants to go public about you two 🤍

You're a virgin 🕸🤍

Anger issues 🕸🤍

Single mother 🤍 [R]

Confession 🤍 [R]

Abusive ex 🕸🤍 [R]

Impulsive haircut at 2 AM 🤍

Caught masterbating 🕸🤍 [R]

Intimate on your period 🕸🤍 [R]

You're on your period 🤍

Another idol asked your number part 1 part 2🤍 [R]

He hears you cry 🕸🤍

You were in an accident 🤍 [R]

He found you shells 🤍

He found your smutty book 🕸🤍

He snapped at you 🕸🤍 [R]

You have baby fever 🕸🤍

Almost 27 yo 🕸🤍

Happy for the first time in a long time 🕸🤍

He found your vibrator 🕸🤍

Wearing a Ghostface mask 🕸🤍 [R]

You're on your period 🕸🤍

You are using anxiety pills too often 🕸🤍 [R]

Rumors about him cheating 🕸🤍

You got your period late at night 🕸🤍

Huge spider in Sydney 🤍 [R]

You don't realize he likes you 🤍 [R]

He misses u 🤍

You're ovulating 🕸🤍

Best friend Channie hears you masterbating 🕸🤍

Best friend Channie finds out you're lonely 🤍

He's mad at STAY 🕸🤍 [R]

Post break-up 🕸🤍

Revealing dress 🕸🤍

Accidental i love you 🤍

Lee Min ho, 이민호 :

You got bullied 🕸🤍 [R]

He thinks you're pregnant 🤍 [R]

Seo Chang Bin, 서창빈 :

He sees you at the high-school reunion 🤍 [R]

You can't kiss him 🕸🤍 [R]

Hwang Hyun Jin, 황현진 :

He thinks you're pregnant 🤍 [R]

Han Ji Sung, 한지성 :

You got stood up 🤍 [R]

He texts you after the high-school reunion 🤍 [R]

You don't want to bother him 🕸🤍 [R]

He missed you 🕸🤍 [R]

He thinks you're pregnant 🤍 [R]

Lee Yong Bok, 이용복 :

He thinks you're pregnant 🤍 [R]

He spoils your surprise party 🤍 [R]

Irresponsible sex brings consequences 🕸🤍 [R]

You're gonna visit his hometown soon 🤍 [R]

He found out you were pregnant via another member 🤍 [R]

Kim Seung Min, 김승민 :

You couldn't find your tampon 🤍 [R]

You send him flowers 🤍 [R]

He thinks you're pregnant 🤍 [R]

Confession 🤍 [R]

Yang Jeong In, 양정인 :

He thinks you're pregnant 🤍 [R]

please let me know if there is a mistake in it somewhere or i said things that needed a trigger warning, and i forgot.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

© 2022-2025, smellslikechahnspirit • No posting on other sites or platforms, rewrites, or translations

[chefkids]

The Bear is A Midsummer Night's Dream and Marcus is making the violet love potion for Syd and Carmy

There have been Shakespeare references in The Bear from the very beginning. In the very first episode Marcus finds Carmy’s James Beard award for Fairest Creatures, which is a Shakespearean sonnet about life being short and how everything will end and die even if they're beautiful, but the only thing that survives are children, and not having children deprives the world of beauty. Nat's conversation with Jimmy about raising children was parallel with Carmy's conversation with Terry about starting a restaurant. Then of course there was Richie singing Love Story which is about Romeo & Juliet.

Violet and purple flowers are a reoccurring thing we see and learn about in Season 3 of The Bear. According to Roman mythology, the wild pansy, a type of violet flower, was originally white, then turned into the purple Love-in-idleness when Cupid accidentally shot one of his arrows at it, working as a love potion with Cupid's powers. The first time we see purple flowers is in Tomorrow when Carmy tweezing purple flowers next to Luca at Ever, this is the same wagyu dish they ate at the Ever funeral with Sydney. We see more flowers in montages, like Carmy eating them at Noma, bouquets in hotels, and at Marcus' mom's funeral and more.

A Midsummer Night's Dream TL;DR: The play starts with Theseus preparing for his wedding to Hippolyta, he declares that young people should have fun and celebration, not sadness like at a funeral. Hermia, Lysander, Helena, and Demetrius are in a love square and run away to the woods. Puck aka Robin Goodfellow, a fairy that enjoys mischief, manipulates them with the juice of a violet flower, love-in-idleness, that makes people fall in love with the next creature they see. Things get messed up, the wrong people fall in love with each other, and they all fight with each other. Puck reverses the magic, then the couples reconcile and get married at Theseus and Hippolyta's wedding. There is also group of 6 stupid men called the Mechanicals that put on a play, Pyramus and Thisbe (which is also the inspiration behind Romeo & Juliet) for the wedding. In the end, Puck breaks the fourth wall and apologizes to the audience for any offense the play might have caused. The Bear Season 3 started and ended with a funeral and an attempt at a celebration, and we know there will be a wedding in Season 4.

Marcus and his magic purple flowers are always tying back to Syd and Carmy. In Doors the purple flowers at the funeral cut to Sydney and Carmy's "cause you write in the margins" wholesome moment between them.

In Children, Marcus sees a white violet then it cuts to Sydney reading the partnership agreement that Carmy sent while wearing a purple flower scarf.

He then tells Nat about it, she mentions it's the state flower of illinois and he decides to make a white violet flower dessert.

In Violet, Marcus is working on some purple liquid and holds a violet petal, then it cuts to Syd and Carmy.

Even back in Season 1 Marcus was interested in the color purple and flowers, roommate Chester brought pantone color swatches. In Legacy Marcus and Carmy talk about creating magic to push his violet dish further, then Sydney appears.

In that same episode after the conversation about legerdemain and magic, Richie's notebook makes its own sleight of hand. It's a bit hard to read his terrible handwriting but on one page it says Lover for Syd on top and below:

Carmy -> Syd Luca -> Carm

And in another page he wrote:

Syd -> pansy Luca -> Carmen

Richie is Puck/Robin and he wants to see what would happen if Luca and Carmy start fighting for Syd. Richie and the Fak's have been fucking with the dream weave and Carmy’s love story for a while by pushing him to be with Claire.

The Faks are the Mechanicals, a group of incompetent manual laborers. We see Carmy tweezing herbs next to some pansy flowers, then Fak brings out the donkey piñatas. In A Midsummer Night's Dream, one of the mechanicals, Bottom, gets turned into a donkey then the rest of the mechanicals say they are being haunted. And we all know how much the Fak's love to talk about being haunted. Can't get more on the nose than that for them.

The Faks/Mechanicals are mechanics but they think they can make a movie/play. Theodore Fak thinks he makes art films, Sammy Fak argues with him over SD cards and tells him he makes films for children's parties. Even Francie Fak is a reference to one of the mechanics, Francis Flute, who is the only one forced to play the female role in the play they are putting on for the wedding. Also, In A Midsummer Night’s Dream (1999) Michelle Pfeiffer played Tatiana, the Queen of the Fairies, who Storer originally had in mind to play Donna. 

When Richie arrived to Ever he took off a fishing hook from a purple flower, then right after Luca appears and greets Carmy. Carmy's flower tattoo in his hand is a violet, and it was right in front of his face the whole dinner when he was next Sydney and Luca and they started vibing with each other. Next season will have a wedding and Marcus' white violet dessert will be tasted. Richie already told us plan he has for Syd, the pansy and it goes from Luca to Carmy.

At the end of the play Puck has an epilogue and breaks the fourth wall to apologize to the audience if they have offended them. Richie and Tiff broke fourth wall to address the "kids" aka us the audience in Apologies. In conclusion, The Bear is a Shakespearean comedy, but it is also first and foremost, a messy love story. 💜

[holyblonded]

What would be the reaction the first time azulita sobs when she cry’s like heartbreaking sobs just come out and no one knows what to do because she’s never cried like this before

— the first time azulita sobs, like truly sobs, with that broken, gasping kind of grief that cracks through the room, it stops everything. because no one’s ever seen her like this. not like this. not azulita.

— she’s the one who fights. who throws words like punches and keeps her chin up even when her knuckles are bleeding. she gets mad, not sad. she storms out, doesn’t break down.

— so when it happens, when her knees give out in the middle of the kitchen or the locker room or some hallway where she thought no one would be, the sound that rips out of her doesn’t even feel real at first. it’s this raw, animal thing.

— a choked breath, then another, and then her whole body folds around it. like her ribs can’t hold it in anymore. like she’s been holding it in too long.

— alexia is the first one there. not because she knows what to do, she doesn’t, but because instinct kicks in. she drops whatever she was holding, doesn’t even think about it, just wraps azulita up without a word. cradles her head like she’s afraid it’ll break.

— olga’s eyes go wide and terrified. she’s the one who’s seen azulita’s pain in flashes, the hints, the shut doors, the silences. but this? this is all of it crashing down. olga kneels beside her, whispering “shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay, we’re here” like a mantra, even though her hands are shaking.

— sydney is quiet. she crouches on azulita’s other side and reaches for her hand,

doesn’t squeeze, just holds it. steady. grounding. she knows azulita can’t be talked down right now. she just needs to know she’s not alone.

— and azulita, she can’t stop. she sobs until she’s breathless. until she’s curled so tight it’s like she’s trying to disappear.

— and the worst part is she keeps whispering “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” over and over like she thinks she’s done something wrong. like falling apart is a crime.

— don’t be sorry,” alexia says, voice thick. “you’re allowed. bebita, you’re allowed.”

— and it’s that, the permission, that finally breaks the last of her defenses. she buries her face into alexia’s chest, and she wails.

— no one moves. no one tries to fix it. they just hold her.

— because for once, she’s not being fierce or loud or angry. she’s just a girl who’s been hurting for a long time. and someone finally saw it. and didn’t look away.

[hussyknee]

TIL the Australian guy that put on the single greatest piece of improv theater ever caught on camera during his wrongful arrest passed away this August from cancer.

For those who don't know: in 1991 an investigator who suspected this man of credit card fraud called the cops on him at the Chinese restaurant where he was dining with a friend. To expedite the arrest, he led the police to believe they were arresting a high profile criminal of some sort.

Police surrounded the restaurant, corralled the waiting media (who had somehow gotten wind), and interrupted Karlson's lunch.

"He was as calm as anything," former police detective Adam Firman says of the moment he arrested Karlson in the restaurant.

"He was happy to go with us. Well, as happy as you can be, to be arrested. Until he saw all the media. And that's when he just went berserk."

The lines Karlson delivered have since become classic quotes in internet culture.

"Gentlemen, this is democracy manifest!" Karlson declares to the cameras as he's wrestled into the police car.

...

"As soon as we drove away, he stopped and he said, 'That was fun,'" Firman says.

"There was no fight getting him out of the car. Nothing. It was all put on for the cameras."

The drama behind the rant

The Brisbane police who arrested him that day didn't know that Karlson had been a criminal and a serial prison escapee. He was also a part-time actor.

By the time he was 34, Karlson had spent most of his life in homes and prisons.

His first escape was in 1966. He was on a train going from Boggo Road Gaol to face a breaking, entering and stealing charge at Maryborough Magistrates Court. He got out of his handcuffs and jumped off.

Two years later, after he had been locked up in McLeod Prison Farm on Victoria's French Island for another theft, he convinced a local fisherman to give him a lift to the mainland.

Three months after that, he was picked up in a stolen car carrying safe-breaking tools in Parramatta. Just before his trial, he impersonated a detective and walked out of his court cell. Finally, he was captured in an apartment on Sydney's North Shore.

That's when his life took a dramatic left turn.

Sentenced to eight years in Parramatta Gaol, Karlson was put in an unusually large cell with an inmate named Jim McNeil.

This chance encounter would become destiny manifest.

McNeil had heard about Karlson impersonating a detective, and he thought it was hilarious.

He welcomed Karlson into his cell. The two men bonded over making foul-tasting alcohol in the cell's washbasin from raisins and yeast, and shared histories.

They had both grown up poor, even by the standards of their rough-and-tumble neighbourhoods. Adults had abused them physically and sexually. And they'd both stolen and scammed a few shillings for their families when they saw the chance.

After encouragement from Karlson, McNeil wrote a play about cellmates who brewed grog. They put it on in prison, and Karlson played a leading role.

Both had discovered talents they didn't know they had. McNeil kept writing on his smuggled typewriter, and Karlson kept acting. The plays became a hit among young Sydney intellectuals, many who had been campaigning for prisoners' rights.

Within four years, their work got them out on parole a combined 13 years early.

Best friends

Karlson and McNeil's friendship continued outside the prison gates and they moved into a house in Richmond together.

The two men stuck out like sore thumbs in their new-found scene of artists and intellectuals.

Neither man had set foot in a theatre, but McNeil's plays were already being performed across Australia. He felt that, with the success of his plays, he'd never need to resort to crime again. On radio and in the press, he would give didactic rants about the brutality of the justice system.

Karlson, meanwhile, got parts in the prime-time crime dramas Homicide and Matlock Police.

They remained close.

"The lovely bloke. I love him," McNeil told an interviewer around the same time Karlson named his son Jim McNeil Karlson.

Karlson described them as best friends.

But McNeil's alcoholism killed him in 1982.

Karlson couldn't travel to the funeral in Sydney for legal reasons.

"I … with a bodgie [fake identity], booked up hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of flowers and wreaths," he says.

Final days

McNeil's plays weren't subtle. They were screeds aimed at a society that arrested and tormented unfortunate men for petty crimes.

"The message is: look what you're doing to people," he told one interviewer.

He went on to tell a story about an Aboriginal cellmate. "He was illiterate, he was poor. He had nothing. And he stole thruppence ha'penny. And then he got three and a half years. That's a penny a year.

"Prison is the best way to show what's wrong with the outside."

His final play was about two cellmates in Parramatta. He named it 'Jack', and finished it in a drunken haze.

"Do you know I'm here?" shouts Jack the character. "Do you give a f*** where I am? No. No, you don't give a f*** where I am. Pricks. Democrats."

Fifteen years later, Jack Karlson declared "Gentlemen, this is democracy manifest!" to the waiting cameras and an enduring audience.

It would be his most unforgettable performance.

From 7news:

So how did Karlson improvise a performance so poetic, so theatrical and so amusing?

“Of course, I was somewhat influenced by the juice of the red grape."

Karlson spent his last years as a painter, incidentally selling many paintings of his own infamous arrest, and helping make a documentary about his life that's yet to be released. He died aged 82, surrounded by family and was widely mourned.

"Tata and farewell" legend. Hope the internet never forgets you. ACAB forever.

[woso-lover]

Home is, whenever I'm with you | Lena Oberdorf

Lena Oberdorf x german!bayern munich!reader

Summary: Lena suprises you with her move to your childhood club. To finally be with you properly.

Warnings: a bit of angst, fluff

English is not my first language

Masterlist

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Girl, I never loved one like you

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You grew up in Munich. Everything you know is there. Your famil. Your friends. Your bestfriend, Sydney. Your club.... Everything you loved was in one place. Exept your home, your lover, Lena Oberdorf. She plays for Wolfsburg. That wouldn't be the problem, even trought its the rival, but Wolfsburg is too far away from Munich, to see each other more then once in a month. And its slowly infecting your realationship.

It's started when you both grow out of the honeymoon phase. That doesn't mean you're stopped being smitten about each other. But the distant made it worse. A 6 hours drive or a one hour flight. It started to come to much.

It wasn't because of the lack of trust you have for each other. You trust each other very much. But you missed the closeness, the cuddles or the kisses. The things you would only get, if you play each other or in the german camp. It was rarely that one come to visit the other. To caught up with training for your clubs.

So everytime the national break started, you follow each other like lost puppies. It's mostly Lena, who follows you everywhere. Her Wolfsburg teammates will tease all the time, when the break is going to start or gets closer. But she doesn't care. She only cares about being close to you.

But you follow her everywhere too. And your teammates tease you about that too. Like obi, you don't care either. You're just happy being with her again.

-

To the problem is only one solution. One has the move clubs. But you both are too stuborn.

"I'm not moving away, liebling. (Darling) I have everything here."

"I change would look on you, baby. You can't always stay in the same place your whole life." Obi argues back on a face time call. It wasn't a fight. More like a discussion, in wich you both bring the same arguments over and over again.

"You know i can't handle change. And it would be a change for you too."

"I know you can't. And i already had a change. I moved from Essen. There wouldn't be so much change. You know half of the from national and you got friends with Lynn."

You look away, to the wall, feeling defeated. "Ha Gotcha, Schatz. (honey)" Obi said happily. "If you move to Bayern, you can play with and see Lea more often." You knew what the Lea card would do. You know that Lena misses to play in the same team as Lea, like in Essen.

"Didn't you wanted to show me your new tattoo idea?" Obi distracts from the topic.

You knew Obi wants to distracts from the topic. She was a bad loser and she knew how right you were, Obi just didn't want to admit that. So you played along.

"What do you think of something like that?" You showed her a page from your sketchbook.

Since then none of you dared to bring up the topic again. In the meanwhile Obi has gotten an offer from bayern munich. She didn't know what to do with it. Should she tell you? Should she ignore it? These question were toturing her mind.

-

Her solution: She's going to ask on national break what you would say if she got an offer from your beloved club.

But unfortunately the right time wouldn't come to Lena. Everytime she was close of telling you something happened. So she finally decide to say it to you no matter what.

She walked into the chill room, wich she knew you mostly are. You were there but you talked with Sydney. She didn't mean to overhear, but she stayed as she heard her own name out if your mouth.

"I love Lena, but i don't know how long it's going to work" Obis face fell. She doesn't want you to think like that. She wants to be with you forever. With sad face she walks away. She talks to you after your conversation with Sydney. But she stopped as she heard Sydney speaking.

"Don't say stupid shit like that. It's going to work out. You both are so smitten and follow each other like lost puppies. It makes me love sick. It's getting to the point to become disgusting."

"Yeah because your Single" you chuckle and on Obis face a smile grows.

"But i'm serious. If you leave, then there would be nothing much different. You still have me and Klara. We still be friends and pull pranks on camp or annoy Laura. Okay? You still got us and the team. We're a big family." Sydney hugs you.

'That's why' Obi realized. You're scared that if you move, your friends will turn their back on you. Obi walked away with smile. Knowing what she's about to do, calling her agent.

-

You were more then suprised as Lena said she will be visiting for a few days, but gadly take it. With Lena being in Munich you were happier. Sydney and Klara took notice of it and asked themselves why. But they got the answer, when Lena picks you up from training.

"Hope it wasn't too boring, being alone." You kissed Obi. After you two broke apart, you hugged her. Behind your back Sydney, Klara and Georgia made gagging faces. Lena rolled her eyes at them.

"No it wasn't, Liebling" It really wasn't. It was exhausting. She was talking with the club, her agent and the Bayern coach. All to negotiate her move to Bayern Munich.

-

The day she signed the contract she had mixed feelings. The tought of leaving Jule behind haunted her. But the blonde told her to go, to get her girl. It made Obi feel a bit better about it, but not fully. The other side was excitment. To be near you. To kiss you everyday. To cuddle with you. To cook with you. To do everything with you.

-

Before the national camp in february the romurs of Lenas move spread over. You saw it too, of course. You didn't know how to feel. There was hope, but you knew to not trust rumors. And Obi wasn't a help either. She only said that she didn't know how or why there are rumors. It broke her heart to see your face fell, just to cover it up quickly with a smile.

-

On the 14th february her move to Bayern will be officinal. She came to munich for the day, because of valentines. She knew you had a came on the evening, so she took you on a date for lunch. The whole day you weren't allowed to look on your phone. You wondered why and asked her. She only told you it would ruin her suprise.

After lunch in your favourite restaurant she took you to your favourite park, in wich you finally were allowed to look on your phone. You looked confussed at her but did anyway.

"Now go on insta"

"Obi what have you done?"

"Nothing" she smiles at you.

You looked on your phone your confussed look turned into shock. You looked up at Obi, who smiled slyly at you. "Suprise?"

"You fucking idiot. I love you" You run to Lena and hug her. "But why would you do that? You didn't had to"

"I know. But i love you. And Bayern didn't Sound that bad." With that she kisses you. Happy play with you next season and to in with you

[theartofeggs]

@gremmed

tagged u so you'd know when i posted ur request lmao. I love it when Kylar's on the bottom. wish they didn't fight it so much in-game like just let me pamper u bbygirl. anyways it seems my dice yearn for trans men rn

Thanks for participating in my ask event! When a fic contains the PC as a main character, the PC will exclusively be referred to as "you," except from other characters, who will refer to the PC by their gender or some other defining characteristic. :) Brings me back to my "x reader" fic days. ahhh what nostalgia

The event's ended by now, but I'll finish the current requests I've gotten!

Synopsis; Kylar gets railed into oblivion

Prompt: Kylar x PC (Smut) / CW: kidnapping, dubcon (not really), breeding kink, PC = evil-type crazy, babytrapping but they both want to babytrap the other so uh? - Kylar = AFAB & male, PC = AMAB & GN ((mostly) dice rolls) + bonus F! Sydney, M! Whitney, and M! Robin (only mentioned)

Welcomed Payback

The chair you've been strapped to is rather uncomfortable. The least Kylar could've done was make sure it was a chair with padding or something instead of some wooden old rickety one that felt one wrong move away from just snapping under you. Oh well. At least he put you in a different room to whatever's causing all that ruckus upstairs. Though, you almost wish he did, considering that it keeps scaring him away from you. You're a bit fed up with him just coming and going. Him feeding you fruit by hand is just about the most contact you've gotten with him so far. All he's done other than that is draw you some and sing a couple out-of-tune love songs he made himself.

Did you purposefully get him to go crazy and kidnap you? Yes. You weren't ashamed to admit it at this point. You've been a bit enamored with him yourself ever since he introduced himself, probably more than he was with you. You didn't think anything of helping a bully victim out of a beatdown, but when you saw how he looked up at you, like he witnessed the descent of a god, something in your brain was clicked on. Considering he wouldn't talk to you for the first few weeks of your attempts at getting to know him, you ended up going a different route and doing quite a bit of digging to find out more about him—you first befriended Sydney and lulled out any and all stories she could remember about Kylar when he was little, then moved on to breaking into more than just a couple government archives to flip through Kylar's, and his family's, past documents.

You knew where he lived before he ever followed you back to the orphanage, and, honestly? It hurt a little, to see how he wanted to be part of your life so bad but didn't seem to want you to be in his. So, you thought you'd nudge him the right way. You noticed he was prone to getting jealous, seeing how his expression would change whenever you'd chat with someone else during lunch, and you thought it'd be easy to use that against him. You'd flirt with anyone and everyone the moment you felt a familiar tingle on the back of your neck, and then relish in the dark, envious looks he'd give the hickeys on your neck when you saw him next. You weren't a big fan of sharing your body so casually with other people, but it would be well worth it if it meant you'd have Kylar in your hands at the end of your endeavors.

Robin was probably the only one you actually felt bad for. When Kylar had given you a little owl plush that so obviously had one of its glass eyes replaced with a camera lens, you had gotten an idea. Though, you struggled to find the right person to use for it. Sydney came to mind first, initially, since you were already close with her and you could smell her crush on you, but figured it'd be too much effort considering how deep her connections are to the temple. She'd totally try to get you to join. There was also Whitney, but Kylar's already watched you suck him off at least a dozen times, so there wouldn't be a big surprise factor with him. A random stranger wouldn't do either—if it did, the videos and photos of you online would've been plenty. But then, you remembered Robin.

You had successfully wooed him, flirting with and lewdly touching him every chance you had, until he finally visited you in your room at night. All it took was a week of tender words, and it made you pity the poor man, but you found you didn't care too much as you grinned up at the owl plush on your wardrobe, right when Robin was busy staining your innards with his cum. The feeling of him inside you was revolting to some extent, but you had washed out his cum the moment Robin had fallen asleep. To your delight, Kylar was waiting for you outside the very next morning. He looked far from pleased, a distant look in his eyes, as he lifted up a long tube with something metallic shining within. You looked directly at him and bared your neck, eagerly accepting the tranq dart as it sunk into your flesh.

But, now that you were here, you couldn't help but find it a bit boring. The most entertainment you've gotten was Kylar's occasional visits and the nigh-constant rumbling above your head. For the past few hours, you've exclusively been humming the nonsensical tune Kylar had sung to you and fiddling with the rope tying you down. At this point, you would've settled for an awful soap opera on whatever old TV this decrepit manor still had lying around.

When Kylar came into the room next, you were already fully untied and just leisurely sitting in the chair, eyes closed and leg bouncing. "M-My love, d-did you not like the ropes? I-I'm sorry, b-but I put t-them on for a r-r-reason. Y-You'll run away if I d-don't keep you here." Kylar grit out, expression dark, as he stepped closer. He was probably on his way to tie you up again. Good. "Hm, but I didn't, did I?" You purred as he came up beside you, brushing a couple fingers up the length of his forearm, though you weren't too pleased to have his sweater between you and his skin. He paused, looking conflicted, and you took the opportunity to grab him and pull him onto your lap.

His face flushed a pretty red and he began to squirm, his hands grabbing onto yours as you kept his hips glued to yours. The clothes in your way would be off soon enough. You could be patient, just as you've been these past months. "A-Ah, d-did you want to do it that bad? I-I'm sorry, I haven't been a g-good boyfriend..." Kylar groaned as you grinded up against him, and the sound alone made you want to cum already. "What nonsense. You're the best I could ask for. Far too good for me." You murmured sweet platitudes as your hands slipped beneath his clothes. He shivered, and you began to rethink taking them all off. Maybe you'd just rip them where you needed to and let him keep the rest on—the room seems a bit cold for him.

He wriggled in your grasp against and you decided this was going to be a bad position to fuck him in, given he was already moving about like he was uncomfortable. So, naturally, you slid onto the floor below and carefully laid him down beneath you. Honestly, it might've been cleaner to fuck in a random alleyway, given the state of this room, but you weren't going to be picky all of a sudden. Your beloved was beneath you and waiting, legs and lips parted just for you, just like you wanted him to be. He leaned back up to take your lips in his, his tongue eager to explore your mouth as his hands ran across your back. You didn't even flinch when he tried to stick it down your throat, and gave him the same intense treatment.

You pulled your pants down and ripped a new hole in his at the same time, swallowing the bashful squeak he let out. You palmed him through his remaining underwear, your cock throbbing when you felt a pair of drenched folds through the thin fabric. You already knew he was trans, so it wasn't a surprise, but you truly had to thank whatever divine being made this man just so perfect. You wouldn't be able to count how many times you came just to the thought of getting to fuck a baby into your Kylar—because he would be yours if you put your kid inside him, right?

Kylar, to his wondrous credit, seemed to have a similar thought process. When he felt your fingers against his slick, he spread his legs even wider and shuddered erotically, only to pull away from your heavenly kiss. "Y-You should put it in. A-And not pull out, e-ever." He all but whispered the command, and you were more than happy to comply. You ripped another hole in the last remaining barrier and dug in with no further warning, relishing in the erotic yelp he gifted you, alongside all the other sounds he made as you began to thrust into him.

His insides were soft and gummy, massaging your cock as you slammed your hips against his. Any time he gripped onto you, you'd move in a particularly rough way, and if he whined, you left a new mark on his hardly exposed neck. He clung to you and didn't bother with keeping quiet, babbling all sorts of lewd things as he grinded up into your crotch at the peak of each thrust. At some point, you had to forcibly hold his hips still to keep him from accidentally shifting too far from you. It had the added bonus of giving you more leverage to ravage his cunt, though, so you were happy with the arrangement, even if Kylar cried about it.

Kylar came suddenly around you, soaking both your crotches with a thick cream, and you slowed for just a moment to give him some time to recuperate. When he began to whine again, you picked up the pace—drilling into him as fast as you could. As your own climax drew near, an unkind idea popped inside your head and made you pause. With a smirk, you slowly began to pull out of his swollen pussy, stopping only when Kylar's legs wrapped around the back of your hips and forced you to stay inside.

His face was still a delicious red, but his expression was dangerous. What a pretty boy. "C-Cum inside. N-Now." You chuckled at his cute attempt at being mean and happily resumed your gyrating, cumming with a drawn-out moan as you pushed your hips as deep into his as you could. "G-Good." Kylar hummed, clearly pleased with himself. You were far more pleased with yourself than he could've been, honestly. Hopefully after this he'd give you a tour around his house, and you could start planning on where the nursery would go.

the end >,o words : 1,742

[gigiii1sblog]

KISS ME LIKE A SECRET 012

Warnings: mature content, cheating, fluff, sexual content, 2 year age gap, 18 & 20 and more

two years later: final chapter

Y/N:

The breeze was soft, carrying the faint scent of saltwater and fresh flowers as it danced through the open-air ceremony on the beach, the very same place where he first fake-proposed, where he promised nothing would hurt me, and somehow meant every single word.

Now, it was real.

I stood at the start of the aisle, heart pounding in rhythm with the quiet ocean tide, and the low sound of “turning pages” by Sydney Rose playing. The long train of my dress trailing behind me like a ripple. There were delicate flowers woven into my long curled hair , tiny shells along the aisle, and every person who mattered in our lives sitting under the pale glow of a golden, blushing sun.

I locked eyes with Nate first. He was standing up front in a tailored suit, wiping his eye not-so-discreetly. Matt and Nick stood beside him, Nick grinning too hard to contain himself and Matt twisting the silver ring on his finger like he always did when he was nervous. They all looked too proud, too full of memories and history—like they had watched this whole thing bloom from its first spark.

And there, at the end of the aisle, was Christopher Sturniolo.

His hair was windswept, his tie slightly loose in the way that made him look like himself, and he looked like he was holding his breath. His eyes met mine, blue, unflinching, wild with love.

I felt like I was walking toward the rest of my life.

When I reached him, he took my hands gently, like they were fragile things he’d never dare to crush. The officiant spoke, but my world narrowed to just him, this boy who used to sneak into my bed at night, kiss me behind closed doors, argue with my brother over loving me too hard. This boy who had once looked at me like I was forbidden, and now looked at me like I was home.

CHRIS:

She was glowing. Like, actually glowing. I didn’t care if it was the sun or her or both she looked unreal.

My hands were shaking a little, but hers were steady. That had always been her: calm in the chaos, warmth in the mess.

The officiant gave us a nod. It was time for vows.

She spoke first.

Y/N:

“I loved you before I understood what love even was. I was seven the first time I said it in my head. You didn’t even notice me back then, too busy stealing Nerf guns from Nate or diving into the pool like some chaotic golden retriever. But I did. I saw you. I loved you in the background for years. Quietly. Secretly.”

Chris smiled, something breaking across his face like a soft wave.

“When we started sneaking around, I told myself it was just me fulfilling my little girl fantasy. Just fun. But every time you touched my hand in the car, kissed me in some hallway when no one was looking, I realized I wasn’t falling in love. I already had. I’d been in love with you all along.”

I blinked back tears.

“We fought for this. We bled for it. You’ve broken my heart and glued it back together more times than I can count. But you’ve always come back. Always. And that’s why I’m standing here, not because it’s easy, but because you are it for me. You’re my last first kiss. My favorite fight. My calm and my chaos. I promise to always come back to you, too. Even if we break. Even if it’s hard.”

I took his shaking hand.

“I promise to love you when you’re impossible. I promise to protect us from the world. And I promise, no matter what comes, I’ll never stop choosing you.”

CHRIS:

“You were Nate’s little sister. That’s all I thought I could see you as when we were kids, this annoying little girl who’d sneak into our video game nights or stare at me like I was famous. I didn’t get it. I didn’t. But God, Y/N, the second I did… I couldn’t unget it .”

I swallowed hard.

“You grew up, and suddenly everything about you felt like trouble. Not in the bad way. In the way that made my stomach ache. You started wearing that red corset, that tiny black skirt. You’d roll your eyes at me like I wasn’t the guy you used to follow around. You weren’t just Nate’s sister anymore. You were a wildfire.”

The wind brushed her hair and she smiled through tears.

“And I fought it. I fought us. Because I thought I couldn’t have you. But sneaking around with you, it wasn’t just a thrill. It was the only time I ever felt like myself. Every time I held your hand in the dark, kissed you when no one was watching, it made me want to be the kind of man who could earn you out loud.”

I stepped closer, cupping her cheek.

“I love you for every version of you, seven-year-old you with grass-stained knees, eighteen-year-old you with that belly piercing, angry twenty-year-old you who told me I was either in or out. I’m in, Y/N. Forever.”

She sobbed, letting out a laugh through it.

“I promise to never hide you again. I promise to fight for you even when it hurts. I promise to make a life with you that’s ours, not anyone else’s.”

And then, softer:

“And I promise, nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby. Not while I’m breathing.”

The officiant declared us married, but I barely heard it.

All I saw was her. All I felt was her. I kissed her like I was still twenty, like I was still sneaking around and afraid, only this time I had nothing to lose.

Because she was already mine.

⸻

Later That Night

After the reception, under the same moon that once heard our whispered I love you’s, we laid out on a blanket in the sand.

She wore one of my shirts now, barefoot, wine glass in hand, hair wind-tangled and perfect. Her ring sparkled in the dark like it was always meant to be there.

“Remember the fake proposal?” she whispered.

“I remember you blushing and calling me an idiot,” I said, grinning.

“Yeah, but you meant it,” she said, touching her ring.

“I always did.”

And as the waves crashed nearby and laughter echoed from the fire pit behind us, we just laid there, married, in love, forever ours.

@izzylovesmatt @riggysworld @amiraisafreakokaysorry @ansteeze @pair-of-pantaloons @kitty-meow-meow44 @sturnslux3 @kalel2005 @sarahsturnn

[meazalykov]

love letters

sydney lohmann x f!reader

writing loving letters to your girlfriend always warms a part of her soul

warnings: one letter is suggestive

august 3rd, 2023

dear sydney,

I hope you find this somewhere in the pit of the clothes in your locker ha. i'm sorry the world cup didn’t end the way you wanted, and i know that’s weighing on you in some way.

yes, I was with my own national team but I watched you out there, giving everything, your heart stitched into every sprint, every tackle. it hurts to see you break down like that.

sydney.. you’re still a great player. you lift up your teammates with a smile, making everyone feel like it’ll be okay.

I am just your bayern teammate, not your national one. however, it hurts to move on in this world cup tournament while you go back to munich. I am someone who sees you from a distance, but i needed to write this.

you’re not defined by one tournament. your fire, your kindness, the way you make people feel alive just by being near you...that’s what matters. you’ll rise again, syd. i know it.

your teammate <3

october 15th, 2023

dear sydney,

training’s been intense lately, hasn’t it? I felt it, and you did too. we've been together for a month at this point, but one thing I've noticed is how you make football look like a dance.

i saw you today, laughing with klara after a drill, your hair catching the sunlight, and i couldn’t stop smiling while listening to the both of you in our small triangle while sitting.

you have this way of making my hard days feel lighter, like you’re carrying a secret spark that spreads to everyone.

i’m still too shy to say this to your face, so here i am, hiding behind paper again even though you are my girlfriend now.

you’re beautiful, not just because of how you look (though, wow, you really do glow you beautiful girl). it’s how you listen when someone’s struggling, how you fight for every ball like it’s the last.

i admire you so much, more than you’ll ever guess. keep shining, okay?

you can guess who <3

december 20th, 2023

dear sydney,

it’s almost christmas, and the team’s all festive, but i keep thinking about you. we have been officially together now for the last few months... can you believe it?

i was so nervous when i finally told you it was me writing those letters, but the way you smiled… syd, i’ll never forget it.

you’re my girlfriend!

you’re beautiful in ways i’m still discovering like how you get this little crease in your brow when you’re planning something sweet for me, or how you cheer louder than anyone when a teammate scores.

i’m falling for you harder every day, and i just needed you to know that.

happy holidays, my love.

your love, y/n <3

january 15th, 2024

dear sydney,

my heart’s been aching since you got hurt. as I stood down beside tuva, it hurt watching you go down in the middle. it felt like the world stopped.

you’re always so unstoppable out there, and now you’re stuck healing, and i know it’s driving you crazy. injuries have happened to you a lot but you’re still you...still cracking jokes, still making me laugh even when you’re in pain.

that’s what i love most about you, syd. your spirit never dims.

you’re beautiful, even now, with your crutches and your stubborn determination. it’s how you care so fiercely, how you’re already talking about coming back stronger.

i’m here for every step, holding your hand, loving you through it all. rest, heal, let me be your strength for a bit.

your love, y/n <3

march 10th, 2024

dear sydney,

you’re back on the pitch, and i swear the whole team feels brighter for it. being back with me, even if it’s just for light drills, makes my chest ache in the best way.

you’ve been so strong through this recovery, syd. i know it wasn’t easy, but you faced it with that same fire you always have...the one that makes you chase every ball, every dream, like nothing can stop you.

i love how you light up when you talk about the game, how your laugh echoes across the field.

you’re beautiful in your passion and for this club, in the way you make me believe in impossible things.

i’m so proud of you, and so lucky you’re mine.

y/n <3

may 25th, 2024

dear sydney,

the season’s winding down, and i keep thinking about how far we’ve come.

you’re back to your old self by flying down the wing, making defenders look silly, and god, it’s a sight.

the thing is that you're more than just a footballer, it’s you off the pitch that steals my heart. the way you check in on me after a long day, the way you hum when we’re cooking dinner together.

you make everything feel like home.

your beauty’s in those quiet moments, syd. it’s how your eyes soften when you look at me, how you always know what to say when i’m doubting myself.

i love you more than i can ever write down, but i’ll keep trying.

your love, y/n <3

august 6th, 2024

dear sydney,

today was heavy, and i’m sorry. scoring those goals, especially that second one which curled it past you into the top right, felt so strange.

you were right there along with the other defenders like feli and midge trying to block me, and i saw the fight in your eyes. you were aggressive, I'm happy you didn't let our relationship stop you from trying to stop me.

i didn’t celebrate much as trinity and mallory jumped on my back like I'm some sort of train ride...you probably noticed.

i can get wild with my cellys, but not today, not with you and so many of our bayern teammates out there, giving everything.

it’s weird, isn’t it? how we’re family at club, but out here, it’s country against country.

i know germany’s headed to the bronze match now, and i hate that i had a part in that.

the thing is that you’re so strong, syd with your heart and your fire, it’s why i fell for you.

you’ll face spain, and yeah, they’re world champs, but they’ve got holes now. don’t let their press or the famous ones like alexia scare you.

I am not your coach, but it is clear that you can break their lines if you stay sharp and capitalize on their overcommits.

i believe in you, always.

go get that bronze medal.

i love you.

y/n <3

[sydney's pov for the next letter]

august 10th, 2024

dear y/n,

its me writing you letters now, haha. I hope my handwriting is not too bad.

i’m sitting here with this bronze medal around my neck, and it feels good, really good, but nothing compares to the way my heart swelled watching you today.

you won gold, and god, you deserve it.

the way you lit up out there, the pure joy on your face when they called your name… i don’t think i’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.

the olympic committee draped that medal over you, and the crowd lost it, screaming louder than they did for anyone else. i was right there with them, cheering from the stands with my german teammates, my voice hoarse from shouting for you.

even in our colors, i was yours first.

that navy blue tracksuit of yours, the way it hugged you with that gold gleaming against it...it was like the whole stadium faded away, and all i could see was you.

your skin was glowing, love, like the medal was made to sit against it. i kept thinking about that header you scored against brazil, in the last minute, sealing that 2-0 win after your other teammate scored the first earlier.

the way you leapt, so sure, so alive, and sent the ball screaming into the net, it was perfect. you were perfect.

i must’ve replayed it in my head a hundred times already, grinning like an idiot every time.

i’m so happy for you, y/n. you worked so hard, fought through every moment, and now you’re standing at the top of the world. i know how much this means to you, how you’ve carried your country’s hopes and turned them into something real.

it’s one of the reasons i love you...your heart, your creativity and your fire, the way you give everything and still have so much left to share with me.

i’m proud of my bronze, too. we fought for it, scratched and clawed against spain like you said we could.

just standing here, knowing we both get to go home with something shining around our necks, it t feels right, doesn’t it? like we’re in this together, even when we’re on opposite sides of the pitch.

you looked so happy up there today, and that’s what i’ll carry with me most. your smile, your laugh, the way you waved to the crowd like you couldn’t believe it was real.

i could watch you shine like that forever.

i love you, my gold medal girl.

i’m counting down the minutes until i can wrap you up in my arms and celebrate you properly. you’re my everything.

your bronze medalist, sydney <3

[back to your pov]

september 1st, 2024

dear sydney,

happy one year, my love.

a whole year since you said you loved me too, since i stopped being just a secret admirer and got to hold you instead. i still get butterflies thinking about it...how you took my hand that day, how you make every day since feel like a gift.

you’re beautiful, syd, in ways that stop me in my tracks.

it’s your heart and how you pour it into everything, from a perfect cross to a silly joke just to see me smile.

it’s your courage, your warmth, the way you make me want to be better. i’m so grateful for you, for us.

here’s to forever.

your love, y/n <3

[sydney's pov once again]

august 27th, 2024

dear y/n,

god, y/n, you’re making it impossible to focus today, and i’m not even mad about it. i caught you watching me at training, your eyes lingering a little too long, and it set something off in me.

i’m writing this with my pulse racing, my skin tingling, because all i can think about is you. the way you moved out there, your confidence in every stride, the way your shirt clung to you when you were drenched in sweat... i had to look away to keep from losing it.

your aura, love, it’s dangerous, so bright and teasing, like you know exactly how you’re unraveling me.

you’re beautiful, and it’s driving me wild. it’s how you light up the pitch, throwing yourself into every play with this fire that makes my heart skip. it is the way your hair catches the light when you tie it back, making me want to tug it loose just to see you glare at me.

it’s deeper than that, y/n. it is how you lean into me when we’re alone, making me feel like i’m the only thing that matters.

you’re this mix of fierce and tender, and i’m addicted to every second of it.

i keep picturing us tonight, slipping away somewhere quiet, just you and me. i want to touch you, y/n. my hands on your waist, sliding up your back, feeling you shiver under my fingers.

i want to pull you close, my lips grazing your neck, hearing you sigh my name like it’s all you can say. i want to press myself against you, slow and deliberate, until you’re melting, begging for more.

i’m dying to take my time, to explore every inch of you again even if we do this almost every night already, just to make you feel how much i want you until you’re breathless and clinging to me.

you’ve got me so worked up, love...i can’t think of anything but you, your taste, your heat.

i’m yours, y/n, every part of me burning for you.

you’ve turned me into a mess, and i need to show you what you’re doing to me.

i love you, always, but tonight, i want to make you feel every single thing i’m feeling right now.

your love, sydney <3

[back to your pov]

october 30, 2024

dear sydney,

the new season is in full swing, and you’re killing it out there. every time you step on the pitch, it’s like you’re reminding the world who you are.

to me, you’re so much more than goals and assists. you’re the one who makes my mornings better with your sleepy smiles, the one who listens when i’m overthinking everything.

your beauty is in how you love everyone syd. you do it so fiercely and openly without holding back. it’s how you celebrate the little things, like when we nailed that recipe last week.

you make my life brighter every day, and i’ll never stop being amazed by you.

your love, y/n <3

january 20, 2025

dear sydney,

it’s cold out, but you’re still my warmth. we’ve been together through so much now, and yet every day with you feels new. i was thinking about those early letters today...how nervous i was, hoping you’d notice me.

now, i get to wake up next to you, and it’s more than i ever dreamed.

this letter is short since we have to go get ready for training soon but i love you, syd, today and always.

y/n <3

february 25, 2025

dear sydney,

i miss you so much, syd.

being here in california with the national team feels so far from you in germany, and my heart’s aching for you. the days are busy, but every quiet moment, i’m thinking of your laugh, your warmth, how you make everything better.

i can’t wait to be back with you in munich, just four days from now.

today was full, at least.

we had a light training session this morning.

there was a funny moment at lunch that made me think of you. cat or catarina, you know how she gets... was teasing alyssa about her coffee order, something about how she’s “too predictable” with her oat milk latte.

alyssa, deadpan as ever, just goes, “at least my coffee order doesn’t taste like shit,” and points at cat’s triple espresso.

i laughed so hard i nearly choked on my water.

the out-of-pocket joke was crazy! you’d have loved it, syd.

oh, and get this... there is the homophobe on the team, the one who’s acted fake around me this whole time. I've told you all at bayern about her when you guys asked.

well, she finallyyyyy mumbled some apology too all of us on the team yesterday after her scandal happened LAST YEAR???? i guess she felt guilty after all this time.

i just nodded and walked away. i don’t have the energy for her drama, so i keep my distance at these camps. it’s better that way, and honestly, i’d rather focus on the teammates who’ve got my back, like literally anyone else.

california’s sunny, but it’s not the same without you. i went for a walk by the beach after training, just to clear my head, and i kept wishing you were here, holding my hand, making fun of how i always trip over the sand.

i’m counting down the hours until i’m back with you, syd. four days, and i’ll be in your arms again, where i belong. i love you so much.

your love, y/n <3

march 26, 2025

dear sydney,

i’m sitting here, syd, and i feel like i’ve been run over.

bayern’s out of the champions league, 4-1 to lyon in that second leg, and it’s eating me alive. i’m so burnt out, so sad, and honestly, pissed...but not at the team, not at you. it’s me.

i keep replaying every moment, every goal we let in, and i can’t shake the thought that i should’ve done more.

i should’ve stopped them. diani’s goal. that is all on me. if i’d passed down to tuva instead of pernille, that whole play wouldn’t have fallen apart.

i see it over and over, my mistake, and it’s like a knife twisting.

i let us down.

you, though...you were brilliant out there. you fought like hell, every sprint, every tackle, pouring your heart into it like you always do. i’m sorry if my frustration’s spilling over, love. you don’t deserve that.

you never stop amazing me, even when i’m drowning in my own head. i just wish i could’ve matched you today, could’ve been the player we needed.

i love you, syd, and i’m trying to pull myself together for the team, and for you.

y/n <3

april 16th, 2025

dear sydney,

spring’s here, and the world feels alive, but you’re still the brightest part of it. you’re still the same sydney who stole my heart. you are brave, warm, always finding a way to make even the toughest days feel okay.

I can't wait for our trip to mallorca in the summer. I have been to ibiza, but never mallorca. i cannot wait to spend time on the beach with you <3

you’re my home, my future, my everything. i hope you know i’ll love you forever.

you know who by now <3

masterlist

authors note: I kinda hate this but I spent too much time on it