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evielmostdefinitely · 1 year ago

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hiiii could you please write something about aftercare with young snow? like how in jealous girl it says he babied her afterwards, but a whole fic about it? i just wanna see how sweet a cruel man like snow can be 🤭

tip of my fingers |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, aftercare with snow.

contains: fluff. mentions of dom/sub themes. possessive snow.

Coriolanus sat on the edge of the bed, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, chest still rising and falling with every ragged breath from his post orgasm. He always got flushed like this after a night of particularly rough sex.

“‘M going to the shower, my love.” Corio muttered, curls matted to his forehead, muggy and sweaty. His hand patted the top of your thigh, gentler than before, your skin still raw and sensitive.

You didn’t move, didn’t utter a word, really didn’t make a sound besides a pathetic whine. Corio’s head snapped around, turning to you in an instant. His eyes narrowed carefully, scanning over you like he was assessing his latest plans. “Are you alright?”

Your glazed eyes staring off, face turned, smushed into the mattress, a pool of your own drool beneath you. Normally he’d mock you, tease you for being so messy. “My messy girl, look at you.” He’d give you a grin that felt more like a sneer.

Not this time.

Coriolanus called your name, softly but firmly, crouching in front of you. His hand rubbed over your clammy forehead, heated cheeks still flushed from your climax. “Look at me, darling.” Corio muttered, fingers tracing over your cheek down the slope of your neck. You shuddered but didn’t turn to him, still lost in your own haze. “Can you hear me?”

Your own mind was miles away from that very bedroom, lost under roaring waves and a hazy fog that Corio always got you in. Usually you snapped back quicker, a few loving kisses, the shock of a cold rag cleaning you up. Other times, it was more difficult.

Coriolanus moved to the bathroom, swallowing down the venomous bark of spewing orders that threatened to fall from his lips. He didn’t like this feeling, when he was out of control, especially with you. When something was wrong and he didn’t know an immediate fix. The rational side of himself told him to stay calm, do what he knew to before spiraling into a panic.

Corio tried to swallow down his beating heart, wringing the cold water out of the cloth, before walking back into the bedroom. The air was still thick and hot, sticky with the lingering musk of sex. He moved beside you, wordlessly, smoothing the cloth over your forehead.

The icy feeling shocked your system, leaving your shuddering, mind lurching back, vision clearing. Corio was before you, brows pinched with a concerned frown, studying you carefully. Your eyes met his, blinking helplessly before him. He swallowed a groan at how it made his cock lurch, seeing you so weak and needy.

“My love,” Corio’s hand slid down your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek. “Are you alright?”

You blinked, moving into his touch, nearly instinctively. “You’re alright?” Corio pressed, head tilting in a much softer way to look at you. “Yes?”

You nodded, pushing off the mattress, groaning at the uncomfortable stretch of sore skin on your ass and thighs. Coriolanus had used his belt, your favorite, tonight.

“Be careful.” Corio clicked, hands wrapping around your biceps, much softer now than before. “You’re going to be sore, darling girl. Careful.” His tone softer now, hushed mumblings as he helped you up.

You winced when your raw skin brushed the silk of the sheets, the ghosting of a whimper on your lips. Corio shushed you gently, sitting next to you, pulling you into his lap. His hand brushing down your hair, your skin sticky on his own.

“How are you feeling?” Coriolanus muttered, lips brushing against your scalp, breathing in the sweaty scent mixed with your perfume from before.

“‘M alright.” You muttered, your cheek against his pec. You could hear his heart rate, how it fluttered and stilled to a steady rhythm. How it would erupt in an excited crescendo when you finally spoke, making your veins fill with ooey gooey rushes of adoration. For all of Coriolanus’ cruelties, his harshness- he did love you. It was evident in moments like these.

“Do you need the healing ointment? I can get it from the servant’s quarters-”

“-I’ll be alright, Corio.” You hummed, eyes pulling heavily. The exhaustion washes over you in thick waves. “I just want you to hold me, please.” Your eyes lifted, rounding sweetly.

He’d be a fool not to, Coriolanus decided, pulling you closer into his chest. He liked you like this, pliant and at his every whim, completely reliant on him.

Corio moved to the bath after, quieting your whines of protest with a small tut, coaxing kisses to your temples, testing the bath water with great show while you sat on the ledge.

You stayed pressed to his chest, clinging to him like a lifeline, like you might float away or dissolve if he let go. Corio let you, ego swelling off the dependency.

“Did I go too hard?” Corio hummed, a sudsy hand rubbing down your spine. The bath filled with the tonic fresh from District Eleven, dried orange peels, lavender, and rose. Coriolanus brought it to you, after his last visit to the district. You had swooned over it, smothering him sillily in kisses that made him blush.

“No,” You shook your head, inhaling the scent that was entirely his. “I think it was the teasing and the spanking, at the same time. I just- I wasn’t ready for it.” You knew what he wanted to hear. Coriolanus had always been adamant after your rough play that you debrief him. It felt very professional, which is why you were reluctant, but that type of blunt, straight forward reporting is what Corio responded best to.

Corio nodded, a low hum vibrating out of his chest, tickling your ear. “I see. I won’t do it as much next time.” He wouldn’t apologize, but you could hear it in his unspoken words.

“Just not as much at the same time.” You whispered sheepishly, as if he didn’t know every part of you.

Coriolanus nodded, a wet hand rubbing the base of your neck, scratching your scalp gently. He knew you loved it, knew it would have your head tipping back into his touch so he could kiss you.

You let him wash you, dry you off- only whimpering when the towel brushes over your ignited skin. He shushed you, a silent apology, pressing a kiss to the back of your thigh. He put the ointment on anyway, muttering flippantly about how “you had obligations tomorrow, and didn’t need to be squirming the whole time”. You knew it was because it made him feel better.

Corio dressed you in your nightgown, slipping the powdery blue, soft fabric over your skin, trailing kisses from the back of your shoulder to your ear.

Underneath the silk of the sheets, you slept in his arms, face to face, whispering in the darkness of the room. It always brought out the vulnerability of Coriolanus in these moments, holding you, feeling you, smelling you- he’d bear his soul to you.

“I’m unsure about the games.” Corio muttered, arms tightening around you.

“Unsure in what way, honey?” You hummed, finger raking through his curls, behind his ear- his favorite spot.

“Unsure that they’ll be as successful as they need to be.” Corio hummed, and even through the dark you could see the concern on his features. “Unsure that people will watch.”

You paused for a moment. You decided not to tell him how you truly felt, not then, anyways. Selfishly, you didn’t want to ruin the intimacy, the softness of the moment. “I’m sure they’ll be everything you hope for them to be.” You hummed, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Everything always does.”

Your words, as forced as they were, brought comfort to Coriolanus. His head falling back into your hair, pressing a kiss to your scalp. Fingertips brushing skin, hushed words, and soft kisses all exchanged under the twilight of the night. Tomorrow, you’d be prim and proper. You’d stand beside Corio respectfully, hide your grimace at the mention of the upcoming reaping, refrain from rolling your eyes at the suck ups that flocked to Coriolanus in a giddy, exaggerated manner. You two would be the picture of perfection that Panem wanted you to be. For now, you’d be content to lay in each other's arms, being yourself instead.

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ellecdc · 5 months ago

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Dude since like you would continue writing poly moonwaterkiller. Idk if you okay with it, but do you mind writing poly moonwaterkiller x sick reader. I mean, we know barty is so fucking wild. Would love to see barty doing anything for reader to make her happy, but moonwater get stress cos "no barty! she shouldn't be outside rn! She's sick!" And Barty be like "but she looks happy out hereee!!!"

Something like that, thank you! And love you both

thanks so much for your request (and your patience in me writing this for you a few months later 😅). I knew I loved the idea; just needed to wait for the right moment to write it!!

poly!moonwaterkiller x sick!reader who Barty is taking very good care of thank you very much

CW: fem!reader is poorly, Barty calls Pandora peculiar [affectionately], disgusting amount of fluff

“Dovey!” Remus exclaimed as he spotted you sitting on the stone floor of a small balcony on the side of Gryffindor tower. “What are you doing out here!?”

It had officially been about a week of this gods-awful flu that was wreaking havoc on your immune system (and more importantly, your lungs) to which Madame Pomfrey prescribed healing draughts, lots of water, and rest.

And this, Remus felt, was decidedly not rest.

He and Regulus rushed to crouch beside your hunched over form to see that your eyes were closed as you pointed your face towards the sky.

“Hi boys.” You offered weakly, still never opening your eyes to greet them.

“Amour, what are you doing out here?” Regulus repeated, placing the back of his hand against your temple and grimacing at the heat radiating from it.

“Getting some sun.” You explained simply. “Haven’t been outside in ages.”

And while Remus knew that to be technically true, he also knew there had been a reason for that.

“Dovey, it’s barely spring and it’s far too cold for you to be out here; besides, it’s mostly cloudy.” He explained, wondering how in the hell you found the energy to move yourself from Remus’ bed all the way out here when you seemed completely incapable of even opening your eyes.

And where the hell was Junior!?

“Exactly; mostly cloudy.” Barty’s voice chimed in as he stepped out onto the balcony to join the three of them with a cup of tea in one hand and a bowl of soup in the other.

“Junior, what in Salazar’s name do you think you’re doing?” Regulus hissed at him as he placed the bowl on the ground in front of you.

“Taking care of our girl.” He hissed back at him before softening as he turned to look at you.

“Hey Treasure, still doing okay?” He asked softly, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

You hummed in acknowledgment.

“I brought some tea with lots of honey.” He explained as he placed the cup in your hands.

That, Remus noticed bitterly, enticed you to open your eyes.

“Thank you.” You cooed, though the sentiment was sort of lost in the coughing fit that it elicited.

“Junior, it’s too cold outside; she needs to be in bed.” Remus sighed disappointedly.

Disappointed that he had to play the bad cop, and disappointed because this looked like a really nice way to spend the afternoon.

If you were tired of being sick, Remus was tired of watching you feel so poorly and not being able to do anything to fix it.

“I cannot believe you think me daft enough to leave her to the elements, Lupin.” Barty sneered as he resituated the blanket that had begun to slide off your shoulder. “She has four layers on and a heating charm surrounding her, Evans had some muggle fever reducers that I gave her just before I went to the kitchens, and vitamin D is supposed to support healthy immune system function. So suck my dick; the both of you.”

“Okay.” Remus offered quickly at the same time Regulus let out a tiresome “Barty”.

“You feel better already, don’t you baby?” He cooed as he sat beside you and pressed a kiss to your overly hot temple.

You hummed in the affirmative again.

“Okay, but where are her shoes?” Remus continued, noting the way you were sitting with your knees up to your chest and the soles of your feet pressed firmly into the stone beneath you.

Barty seemed to turn a bit bashful at that before quickly schooling his expression. “It’s quite simple, really. Pandora suggested that she ought to try grounding.”

Though his tone was haughty, he turned bashful again when he received no response from either of his boyfriends.

“Said it would be good for her…chakras or her aura or…I don’t know! Alright!? I don’t know; but Salazar’s saggy balls, she’s been so sick for so long and I just wanted her to feel better. So yeah, I listened to Peculiar Pandora, okay? Sue me.”

Barty hardly had a moment to pout before Remus was wrestling the Slytherin into his lap as Regulus cooed at him.

“Barty’s going soft.” Regulus taunted lovingly.

“I will literally bite your fucking head off, Black; try me.”

“You’re just soft for our girl, hm?” Remus purred into Barty’s ear, relishing in the way the notoriously tense boy melted for him.

Barty made a harrumphing sound half way between reluctant admittance and a whine.

“Be nice to him.” You admonished quietly; opening one eye at Remus and Barty as you leaned into Regulus’ side who had moved to sit beside you in Barty’s place.

“He is being nice.” Regulus defended quickly.

“I’m always nice.” Remus added. “I’m alway nice to you, aren’t I?” He continued as he looked down at Barty, currently curled up in his lap.

“You’re mean.” Barty pouted.

“Come now.”

“Horrid.”

“Yeah?”

“Just awful.”

Remus beamed down at the petulant boy before nuzzling his face into his neck.

“You love it.” He accused.

Barty was quiet for a moment as he drew circles on the back of Remus’ hand. “Maybe.”

Remus was very thankful that Barty was such a clever person, because sitting out here with his three loves on this semi-lovely Scottish spring day felt an awful lot like Remus’ own little personal heaven.

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syoddeye · 12 days ago

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by some miracle, you nab the last campsite. the online reservation system is spotty, but you submit the form, pay the fee, and receive a confirmation.

the trip is a bright spot at the end of a long tunnel. something to look forward to.

so, of course, it rains.

you drive through a downpour that starts as soon as you leave the city limits.

the rain falls in sheets, rendering the windshield wipers near useless, their frantic motion only barely carving out the view ahead. you grip the wheel like a lifeline, feeling your car lean with each curve of the road, the faintest slip of the tires against wet pavement sending a tremor through your arms.

the trees on either side are shapeless blobs, their trunks blurred by the water streaming down the glass. your focus narrows on the lines and the rhythmic drumming of rain that drowns out everything else.

you just need to get there in one piece and wait it out. you will leaf peep. you will hike. you will cuddle up with your sleeping bag and quilt and finish a goddamn book for once. you need this weekend to relax.

however, there's a small crowd when you reach the park and stop at the ranger station to check-in. you're told that, unfortunately, the lower-lying campsites are currently washed out. there's no immediate danger, but folks who reserved spots in that section are out of luck.

some deal with the news better than others. families make alternative arrangements or turn around to head home. some take it out on the rangers, their conversations unfair and heated. you?

you mirror the weather outside. as you sink into a chair, big, hot tears roll down your cheeks. it took you three and a half hours to get here. you left right after a long day of work. you're tired and upset, and now you have to drive back home, back through the storm, and the sun is on its way down.

"you alright?"

you lift your head at the deep, charred voice of a man and find a pair of eyes the color of cloudburst staring down at you.

"what am i sayin, 'course not. your campsite’s flooded, right?"

the man crouches in front of you, draping two thick, forearms bulging the sleeves of a rain-soaked anorak over his knees for balance. his mouth twitches into an easy smile under a mustache, though it's the mutton chops that draw your gaze. old-fashioned. kind of giving off a rugged, mountain man vibe.

he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, and offers it. “name’s john.”

"yeah," you rasp, then clear your throat, compelled to fix your posture by john’s attention alone. you pluck the flannel square from his hand, and dab your tears away. "yes. you too?"

he shakes his head. "no. reserved one of the cabins up in the hills.”

you resist the urge to wrinkle your nose at that. despite being rustic and bare-bones, the cabins cost ten times more than the regular tent or car camping spots. out of your budget. unkindly, you think, must be nice.

"oh. lucky you." you sniffle, wiping the last of your tears with a thumb. "well. i should hit the road before it gets too dark..."

as you stand, he rises. you're closer than you ought to be, and catch a whiff of tobacco and benzoin. rain. he's tall enough that you need to crane your neck. heat gathers in the hollow of your throat when you notice the flecks gray in his beard and hair. you swallow, internal conflict erupting in your brain. he's handsome, yeah, but he's a complete stranger in your personal space.

to your pleasant surprise, john seems to register whatever uncertainty shows on your face and takes a big step back. he scratches his cheek. "listen, miss…?”

you blink, supplying your name after a delay.

he repeats it, the corner of his mouth lifting in a cautious smile. “i'm visitin' for the weekend and the cabin's got a spare room, if you need some shuteye before headin' home."

you hesitate, eyes narrowing.

"there is, honest. just thought i'd offer. you wouldn't have to pay me."

"free and out of the goodness of your heart? why me? why not someone else? a couple or a family?"

john follows your glance around the station, lingering on the remaining groups you pointed out. he shakes his head.

"the second room's too small for some parents and their kids. and i'm not inclined to invite a...couple, as i'd like to have a quiet and restful weekend. and if you insist, you can pay half"

his tone cracks your resolve. makes you smile. almost. you study him closely, briefly, as he looks around the room again. the beard's memorable and if he's rented the cabin, the rangers should have his information and a card on file. you have a folding knife and bear mace. and you really don't want to drive with the current conditions outside.

"...okay, john. i'll take the room," you begin, heart thudding when he meets your eye. "but i'm going to check in with the rangers. i'm sure you understand."

his face splits with a grin. "of course. smart girl."

the ranger you speak to gives you a long look when you explain the situation. you get the feeling they’re not supposed to let campers double up without paying the proper fee, but they’re just as tired as you. after taking down your information and confirming his, you join john at the entrance.

you follow his truck up a series of hills, and park behind him. you expect him to dash to the cabin door, but you find him at your door instead. you don’t have much, just a backpack and a carry-all, but he yanks both from the backseat and carries them to the porch. no time to argue. too loud with the rain, anyway.

by the time you’re indoors, you’re both soaked to the bone. he shrugs off your thanks.

“here it is.” he announces as he leads you to the second room.

like the rest of the cabin, it’s spartan but functional. better than trying to stake a tent in mud, that’s for sure. when he leaves you to it, you check the deadbolt attached to the door and sigh in relief. this might just work.

you unroll and unzip your sleeping bag over the plastic mattress, and spread your quilt out over the top. you’re stuck using a lumpy folded sweatshirt for a pillow, but you can’t complain. the storm outside rages on, and a handsome stranger’s taken you in for the night.

john checks in once before he turns in, after which you lock the door. sleep comes easier than you thought it would, reality feeding fantasy as you drift off.

in the morning, you emerge well-rested, but still undecided as to whether or not you’ll stick around for the rest of the weekend.

the smell of smoke hits and lures you to the cabin’s door. beyond, john sits with his back to the structure, poking at a fire with one hand and cradles a book in the other. a pot and pan sit atop a rack.

“morning.” you greet politely, stomach rumbling at the sight of bacon and eggs cooking over the open flame. a torturous viewing with half of a protein bar in hand. your boots squelch in a patch of mud, the ground absolutely saturated from the rain.

“morning.” john replies. “sleep alright?”

“yes, thank you. i don’t know if i would’ve made it if i drove last night.”

he makes a contemplative noise at that.

you chew your poor excuse for a meal and steal a glance at his book. it’s a local birding guide. you suppress a smile, amused. you always thought birding was a hobby for old folks.

you take another forced bite, wondering if it’s even worth to trekking to a trailhead. chances are more than one’s washed out.

“care for a little more sustenance?”

“oh, no, thank you. you’ve done enough.”

john clicks his tongue and sets his book aside to pull the cast iron from the flame. “i insist. gonna need the energy to hike.” he shovels a fried egg and slice of bacon onto a steel plate, then reaches for a matching cup. “coffee?”

“oh—you don’t need to—okay.” you try to protest, but he hands you the meal without waiting for an answer. you abandon the protein bar on the edge of the plate. “i don’t know if i’m going to hike.”

“no? you gonna hit the road?”

“haven’t decided that either.”

john nods. “well, my offer’s good all weekend. i don’t mind company.”

“so long as your time’s quiet and restful?”

he grins. “correct.”

conversation flows easier than you thought it would, given the semi-awkward circumstances. you learn he’s ex-military. retired. that he’s roadtripping the country until he hits snow, then heading south to visit friends. he likes cigars, bourbon, and birds. the latter being a recent development.

“why birding?”

“doc said it’d help with stress. counteract my vices.”

you take a bite of bacon, gesticulating with the rest. “makes sense. see anything neat?”

“a couple of grebe, some heron.”

“anything particularly rare?”

he doesn’t answer for a beat, leading you to glance his way. your eyebrows lift when you catch him staring, and push higher when he stammers. he clears his throat hard and slams his fist hard into his chest with a cough.

“maybe. can’t be sure. still learnin’ how to spot them.”

the tips of his ears match the tanager you spot in the trees.

(john misses it.)

#this is somewhat based on a true story. but the stranger i met was not john price. :/#and it was nowhere near as flirty #price x reader #what is this? an unedited thing about price and camping and birds #there is no ending because i am posting from bed and exhausted!#alcohol mention

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vin-taege · 8 months ago

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Could you do headcannons for both sfw and nsfw showering with Chishiya? :3

The Water's Just Right

Summary: Showering headcanons for our favorite snarky boy

Genre: fluff, smut, gn! reader

Note: Oh yeah, I'm back again! I've been gone for so long because of college, but I'm here again to revive the aib fandom >:3 also my first time writing headcannons. :DDD I think I got carried away sjjsjs

☄. *. ⋆ sfw

ok let's start with headcannons for the real world

as a doctor, he mainly takes quick showers

contrary to popular belief, i feel like he enjoys hot showers over cold ones. like he's already going to be stressed because of work, so might as well have at least one part of his day be a little relaxing

the only time you can take joint showers with him is during his off-days or if you stay up long enough to catch him coming home

he doesn't like it when you do the latter option because he firmly believes you should take care of yourself and sleep early

even though he runs on 3 hours of sleep maximum every day

he lets you wash his hair after initially (and weakly) refusing

you definitely use scented shampoo on him (strawberry because he thinks floral scents are too strong)

he prefers subtle scents because the hospital is already filled with strong odors.

he'll never admit he likes it when you wash his hair, especially when you massage his scalp

"did you purr a little?"

"I think you need your hearing checked."

loves it when you run your hands up and down his back

you mainly use showering as an excuse to dote on him

likes kissing your neck while you attempt to lather soap on him

random but he installed a non-slip mat on the floor because he doesn't want the two of you to get into any accidents

likes playing with your hair by gathering soap bubbles and dumping them on you

you don't point this out because you're scared he'll withdraw from letting himself be a kid for once

sometimes when it's been a rough day, he lets you hold him in the shower for a moment

just letting the warm water wash away his stress while he melts into your arms

he used to skip lotion until you started putting it on him

he got used to it after that and subconsciously started integrating it into his routine

honestly before you came along, had the worst skincare routine ever

"That's... that's not how you put on facial wash. You need to wash your face with it for at least a minute."

"I'm not a dermatologist, y/n."

"You don't need to be to know that???"

In the borderlands, it's basically the same but without the luxury of proper skin products.

always ALWAYS showers after games

he hates the ick from going outside and keeps himself sane by maintaining cleanliness

surprisingly, he's more forward with asking you to join him

in the real world, you're the one who always asks for permission, but now he always looks for your presence

especially since he knows you could be gone any day

"Do you want to join me?"

"Didn't the heater system break down?"

"I fixed ours. The water's just right."

☄. *. ⋆ nsfw

remember that non-slip mat?

oh yeah, that was definitely for this occasion

he doesn't like lifting you up because again, safety first

prefers standing positions where he can press you up against the wall.

LOVES LOVES LOVES FOGGING UP THE GLASS

he doesn't pull your hair because he knows it'll be prone to breakage

he's such a nerd about bodily care except for when it comes to himself.

holds your neck instead and uses it as leverage to pound into you

either that or he digs his fingers into your hips so he can grind his cock inside you.

makes it his goal to make you squirt at least once

OK THIS IS MY PERSONAL HEADCANNON

it may be because of the tight space, or the bathroom acoustics, or the added privacy

but this man is definitely louder in the shower

you love sucking him off because of this

deep moaning, swearing, whimpering when you're being a little shit and you overstimulate him

plays with your chest a lot because he likes how slippery the soap makes it

LISTEN

also installed a detachable showerhead ;)))

#alice in borderland imagines #aib headcanons #chishiya headcanons #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #aib chishiya #aib imagines #imawa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland x reader #alice in borderland #chishiya imagine #aib x reader #chishiya shuntaro x reader #asks #requested

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brockyselectrical · 7 days ago

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Experienced Electricians

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savingcrxws · 1 year ago

Text

EYES ON FIRE | maybe someday

[ prev chap ] [ next chap ]

synopsis. you and carmen just keep bumping into each other.

word count. 4.3k (gah damn)

warnings. language, hardly proofread again i'm sorry its an addiction

authors note. thank u guys so much for the support in these previous chapters! it’s really amazing to me that u guys enjoyed it so much! i would recommend listening to maybe someday by the cure for this chapter!

“Yeah, Sugar. The appointment is booked for Thursday, the reps will probably be coming in at like…three o’clock,” you mutter, flipping through the manila folder absolutely stuffed with documents and sticky notes.

You pursue your lips at all you had to get done within this week alone–sign installation permit, permit to replace the hot water heater, permit to fix the ventilation systems, reapply for occupancy capacity signs because of the restaurants lack of other permits, and holy shit…

You completely forgot to schedule the follow-up appointment with the BACP consultant.

You groan, slamming the thick folder into your forehead, the papers thwacking against your skull. Natalie sounds startled on the other end of the phone, no doubt hearing the sound on her end of the call. She questions if you’re okay, and you only respond with a gentle hum before tossing the folder back down on the office table.

“Hey, Suge, do you think I can call you back later? I need to schedule a follow-up consultation with Raquel before another rep hops on my ass about the boiler replacement.”

“Of course, hun, call me back whenever you can,” Sugar starts and you can hear some papers flicking in her side of the call as well.

You had managed to convince her to work from home more often, worried that all the stress from the demolition inside would affect her pregnancy and her overall wellbeing. After some back and forth, she had begrudgingly agreed to spend two days working on the project from the comfort of her own couch.

And even though she complains still, you know she appreciates she has a little bit more time off of her feet.

“Don’t work yourself too hard, okay, Bug?”

You nod, even though you know she can’t see you. “Same for you, Bear.” Sugar hums once again before you both give your goodbyes and end the call.

You expel all of the air out of your chest in a large puff as you slide down the office chair.

After signing onto Team Bear, your new home-away-from-home had been this tiny office in the back of the restaurant. For the most part, no one came in and disrupted your work, which allowed you to have your head shoved into piles of paperwork, be stuck on phone calls, and be forced to reread legal jargon for hours on end with little interruption.

Well, as little interruption as there could be with the restaurant quite literally falling apart around you.

Thankfully, everyone was very respectful of your work in helping the developing business. You were practically putting every ounce of knowledge that you learned from both college and the real-world experience (including connections within the industry) to help push the restaurant closer to the deadline. All the while still dealing with your other commitments to other businesses that you had prior to signing on to this project.

Staying at The Bear for eight hours a day had its benefits, though.

For example, there was always something entertaining going on in the background. Like last Tuesday, when Fak had decided to send a sledgehammer directly into the only remaining wall of the office–sending bits and pieces of drywall onto your clothes.

Another benefit of being stuck in that office chair is that you had an excuse to ignore everyone around you. And by everyone, you really mean Carmen.

After the awkward office run-in last week, the two of you hardly spoke to each other. Sure, there was the ‘hellos’ and ‘goodbyes’ that you threw to each other and the words you exchanged when you caught him up on the status of licensing, but you two had yet to have an actual conversation.

It was clear that the both of you were still walking on eggshells around each other—and everyone could see it. But you had an inkling feeling that Carmen had been wanting to say something, judging by the short glances you sometimes catch him throwing in your direction.

Kinda similar to the one that he’s giving you right now.

You feel the heat of his stare on your face before you see it. He’d been staring at you for a couple moments now, long enough for you to no longer consider it an inquisitive glance.

You peek up from the folder and make solid eye contact with Carmen through the hole in the wall. The man flushes almost immediately, the red color sinking past his collar. You purse your lips and give a small nod of acknowledgment and he stutters in his spot.

And then he’s turning away.

Like he wasn’t the one just staring at you a moment ago.

You roll your eyes and turn back to your original position in the seat. Picking the folder up again, you flick to the papers listing the requirements for the next fire suppression test.

“Men,” you mutter, before picking up your phone and making a phone call.

Three days later, the office is completely demolished and your work revolving around The Bear has been moved to a family-owned coffee shop two blocks over.

In the short span of time, all of the walls in the store had been busted down and the restaurant had practically turned into a hazardous wasteland. And since construction was too far out of your pay grade, you decided to leave the heavy lifting up to everyone else.

“Alright, permit done!” You throw your hands up in the air, your theatrics catching the attention of a couple next to you. You could hardly care for the stares, though, you had been working on getting that permit for the past four days straight. Slamming your laptop shut, you pack up your bags and head off to the cash register to buy another coffee before you go.

While you wait for your drink, you decide to scroll aimlessly through your phone to kill some time.

“Oh shit,” you hear a voice utter behind you, and you barely have time to process the word before something ice cold is running down your back. “Fuck, I’m fucking sorry, I didn’t even see you—“

You gasp on reflex, taking a step forward and shivering. The person who spilled their drink on you is stuttering out apologies. The liquid seeps into the jacket you were wearing and you pull it off immediately.

“Yo, what the fuck, dude,” you curse, watching the large stain of coffee spread even farther across your jacket. “Watch where the hell you’re walking—”

In the middle of trying to give the perpetrator a piece of your mind, you failed to recognize the familiar sound of the voice that was spewing apology out of apology. But in a second, your eyes met a recognizable set of blue and you halted your words.

In front of you stands Carmen Berzatto. In his signature colored sweater and a half-spilled cup of coffee in his hand.

And he looks petrified.

It seems he didn’t realize just who was the unlucky victim to his americano attack either until you turned around. His mouth agape, he utters out a jumbled apology, glancing back at you, your stained jacket, and the cup in his hand like his brain was still trying to understand what just happened.

“Uh-uh, fuck, sorry, I swear this wasn’t on purpose,” he rambles, placing his cup on the counter behind you and grabbing some napkins right after. He steps back towards you and shoves his hand of napkins to you. “Here, shit, I’m so sorry.”

You sigh, taking the napkins from him, noting the slight tremor that persisted in his hands as you did so. Taking in a slow breath, you close your eyes and count to ten before responding. “It’s okay, Carmen. Don’t worry about it.”

And even though you tried to maintain your peace, you can hear the annoyance seeping out of your words. Carmen glances around the counter before looking back at you and your soaked jacket. You know he probably wants to apologize some more, but honestly, one more apology might land him with a punch to the gut.

Just as he opens his mouth, you raise your free hand, silencing him immediately. You shake your head in dismissal before taking the napkins offered to you and blotting the coffee out of the fabric of your jacket. Carmen simply stood in his place, watching you, seeing if he could do anything to redeem himself in this situation.

However, after they called your name for your drink order, you dumped the used napkins in the trash, took your drink and hightailed it out of the café without one more word to the man.

After the coffee shop incident, you swear that you started to see Carmen everywhere.

You needed a quiet place to plan outside of your house so you went to one of the local libraries. Guess who’s walking outside the building?

You need a late night snack and decide to hit up the corner store. Guess who’s in the refrigerated section?

Hell, you decide to stay late at The Bear for some last minute checkups? Guess who forgot to grab a few things before leaving that night?

You swear that before you hopped on The Bear train, you never even saw a glimpse of the man. Sure, you lived relatively near the restaurant, but Chicago is fucking huge, there’s no way you would run into one of the few people that you’re trying to avoid.

Absolutely not, apparently.

Finally finishing up the weekly budget report and estimate for the following weeks till open, you decide to take a step away from work for a second and give your brain some time to breath.

“Hey, Syd, if anyone needs me, I’m outside taking a smoke break, ‘kay,” you yell across the restaurant, receiving a thumbs up from her from the other side of the room. “Be back in 15!”

Reaching into your bag, you pull out a pack of cigs and a lighter before heading to the back entrance of the restaurant. You place the cigarette between your lips and head to the backdoor. Stepping out and around the alley to the designated smoke corner, you fiddle with the lighter switch, hearing the light sizzle but seeing no flames emerge.

You groan, flicking the lighter again and again and still no lig–

“Umm, uh, you need a light?”

You scream, your heart almost skipping a beat and falling out on the concrete below you. In your alarm, both your cigarette and the lighter drop on to the ground. "Shit," you mutter and throw a glance over at whoever had scared the living shit out of you and, surprise suprise . . .

There was Carmen, standing in the alley a few feet away from the door. One leg was kicked up to rest his foot against the wall behind him and a cigarette hung loosely between his fingers. His eyes trailed across you for a second, then he glanced at the cigarette on the ground before taking another draw from his own and staring out the wall in front of him.

If you had half of the energy, you would tell him off for scaring the shit out of you and book it out of the enclosed space.

Lucky for Carmen, however, you really needed that cigarette.

Reaching back into your bag once more, you pull out another cig and walk slowly over to the man. Your steps gain his attention once again and when your eyes met you gestured to the lighter hanging out of his cooking apron.

He grabs the lighter and hands it to you. As you reach out to grab it, your fingers brush against his knuckles. Some quick thought in the back of your head wishes that that physical interaction lasted a little longer, but you're quick to shoo that away into the deep recesses of your mind.

Lighting your cigarette, you hand the lighter back to him before taking a drag. Blowing the smoke out, you slid down the wall until you could lean back into a squat against it.

The two of you just stand there, in complete silence aside from the occasional cough from an improper pull. This quiet isn't nearly as awkward as the first run-in the two of you had. Maybe it's because of the nicotine or maybe it's because continuously running into Carmen over these past days had subconsciously made you a little more comfortable with his presence.

. . .

Nah, it definitely had to be the nicotine.

You glance up at Carmen, who continues to smoke even though his stick had turned into a bud a while ago. You make note of the new tattoos that run down his arms and hands, eyes stopping at the rose flower tattoo on his left hand.

You remember when he got that one done with you at the parlor for his eighteenth birthday.

Subconsciously, you rub at the matching rose on your thigh before sighing and focusing back on your cigarette. Young, dumb decisions, you think.

Above you, Carmen watches your focus retreat back and purses his lips. In all honesty, Carmen usually never finishes a whole cigarette, but he really needed an excuse to stay out here longer with you.

These past couple of days had been tormenting him just as much as it had been you, albeit for different reasons. Everytime Carmen ran into you, whether it be in that cafe or that random grocery store that one early morning, he was plagued with memories of everything that he had fucked up.

Not just the relationship that he had fucked, but the happiness that he had stolen from the both of you.

And he had so desperately been trying to apologize, but every time you saw his face, you would get that look on your own. That dread, the anxiousness, that annoyance. That anger.

Whenever he saw that expression on your face, he would get too choked up to say anything of significance. A simple 'hey" would be all that would leave his mouth. Either that or he would stutter like he was a fucking kid again and embarrass himself in front of you like he seems to be doing constantly lately.

Carmen sighs, taking a final hit from his cigarette before stomping it out on the ground. By all previous experience, Carmen would book it out of the area by now, but something in his gut was telling him to stay this time.

Glancing down at you once more, he sees that you have taken to scrolling through your phone to kill the time. He bites the corner of his lip and decides to sit against the wall like you.

Instinctively, you toss him a questioning glance but when he didn't make any move to speak or gesture towards you, you shook your head and went back to whatever video had popped up on your feed.

Fuck it, he thought.

"I'm sorry."

You halt in the middle of your smoke, nearly coughing on the fumes but managing to swallow it. You look over at Carmen inquisitively, wondering where the hell that apology came from. The dirty blonde was wringing his hands, mouth opening and shutting as if he was trying to get the words out.

"Sorry for the, uh," he mutters, casting a quick glance in your direction to assure himself that you were listening. "Sorry for the, for uh-You know I didn't-I don't know how-"

"Yo, Carmen," you interrupt the world vomit that he was spewing, tossing your cigarette down before snuffing out the light with your shoe. You center your focus back on the man next to you, who seemed to only have you in his attention. "Just say what you want to say. No bullshit."

Your blunt words seem to ground Carmen long enough for him to gather his thoughts. He nods his head rapidly in that way he does when he's clearly overwhelmed before he clears his throat. He takes in a large inhale and clears his throat, ready to speak again.

"I want to apologize. For everything. For how much of an jackoff I was back then, and for how much I am right now," Carmen stars, eyes staring solidly into yours to show just how serious he is. "I didn't deserve you, and you did nothing to deserve the way that we ended."

You feel something burn the back of your throat at the mention of the end of your relationship. The total radio silence from him for the days prior, and just when you had managed to gather the courage to ask the question of just what the hell are we doing, Carmy, you were cast aside like nothing.

He was right, you didn’t deserve that.

Pushing back the feelings bubbling up in your chest, you nod your head to signal that you were listening.

"I-I, it's no excuse, but I was really going through some serious shit. And I really felt that if I cut everyone out of my life, I could actually get a second to breathe you know," Carmen pauses and you open your mouth to speak, but he continues. "I-I just know you deserved-you deserve better. But seeing you in this restaurant day-in and day-out, working away to help my sister, my crew--help me? I just felt even more like a piece of shit."

He turns fully towards you now and you can see his eyes turning red from the emotion he was clearly holding behind his words. "You didn't deserve what I did, and you definitely don't deserve to be cleaning up my messes now."

"You deserved the world, and I'm sorry I couldn't give it to you."

His last words send a sharp pang into your chest. Here you two sat, sitting next to each other, the distance between you two seemed to be filled with words unsaid. You stare into his eyes a little longer, at a loss for what to say completely.

On one hand, you wanted to reject his apology, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone in this alleyway. He would deserve it after everything.

But he has that familiar kicked puppy-dog look in his eyes and he's chewed his lip red, and he's actually sorry.

You sigh, leaning your head back to rest against the wall behind you. Staring up at the sky, you trace the shapes of the clouds above as you collect your thoughts.

"Yeah," you start, nodding your head to yourself. Carmen tenses up at the ambiguity behind both your words and your tone. He would have to have his own head shoved up his ass if he didn't realize that you had every right to refuse his plea for forgiveness. Frankly, that's exactly what he was expecting you to do.

"Yeah, okay. I can forgive you, Berzatto."

Carmen's heart sinks into his guts, mouth slightly agape in pure shock. "You-you can?"

You give a small smile, turning your head to face the man. "Yeah, Carmen, I accept your apology."

The dirty blonde opens his mouth again but you put a hand up in the space between you, effectively shutting him up for a second.

"But," you trail, "I'm gonna forward you that dry cleaning bill from that cafe, asshat. I've been trying to get that shit out for days now."

Carmen flushes a bright red at the mention of the coffee shop run-in you two had, a broken chuckle leaving his mouth at the obvious teasing tone in your voice. You were joking with him, for the first time in years, you two had managed to glimpse at the level of comfortability that you once shared.

Carmen chuckles again, running a hand through his curls. "Yeah, well, can I raincheck that until after the restaurant starts making money? I'm kinda flat fucking broke right now."

You giggle at the honesty behind his words. "Yeah, I ran those calculations by the way. Have fun being flat broke for at least three months after The Bear opens."

"Shit," Carmen mutters, a grin still on his face.

"Yeah, shit." You nod in his direction before pushing yourself off your crouched position on the ground. "Anyway, I'm gonna head inside to get back on that shit. Fak's fucking electric guy keeps flaking on us."

Carmen's eyes follow your form as you stand, holding eye contact with you when you glance back down at him. "Yeah, yeah, I should probably meet up with Syd for the chaos menu anyway."

He hurriedly stands up, wiping his hands on his work pants. After he finishes, he looks at you once again, noting the small smile on your face. For a second, he swears his heart skips a beat.

"For the record, Carmy," you play with the nickname on your tongue, having not said it in quite some time. Carmen flushes before nodding for you to continue. The small on your face falls for a second as you look at him. "You pull that shit with me again, I'm sicking the dogs on your ass. Seriously."

Carmen clears his throat, straightening up at the more serious tone of your voice. Although you were not nearly as angry looking at him as before, he knew that you were serious. There were no more apologies after this, no more fuckups.

You look at him expectantly, waiting for some form of acknowledgment.

He nods. "Yes, chef."

After the conversation outside The Bear, you and Carmen seemed to flow together much easier than before. Granted there was the occasional stray glance casted in your direction from the man, but overall, the two of you were on much more agreeable terms.

The rest of the crew seemed to notice the absence of uncertain tension between the two of you. You explained to Tina, Richie, and Sugar that you two had simply talked it out and were no longer on "spiteful ex" terms.

Richie, being the annoying man that he is, insisted that something else must've happened--to which you responded with a firm shoulder check and yet another middle finger.

Overall, the two of you seemed to only talk about business stuff, which made it easier for conversations to flow. Less personal, more concrete talks.

"Alright, Carmy, we got that certificate of occupancy, right?" You question, running down the legal checklist once again. When you heard no response, you asked again, only to be ignored again. Finally looking up from your screen, you glance up at the man, trying to figure out what could have possibly distracted him this time.

He's glancing, moreso glaring, down at his phone, watching it ring but making no moves to pick it up. He's spaced out almost, like he's lost in his thoughts.

You clear your throat and decide to try his name again. "Carmen!"

He shoots up a little and looks at you, muttering an apology out as he clicks his phone off and slides it into his back pocket. "What were you asking?"

"Umm, I was trying to see if you got that certificate of occupancy from Cicero mailed in," you raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, the one we need to get that other big, shiny certificate that shows that we can legal conduct business in the state of Illinois? That certificate?"

"Uhh, yeah, yeah. Mailed it in the other day, yeah."

You squint at his weird responses before shaking your head and diving back into your work. "Well, on another note, I've been speaking with a liason down at the office and he said we can have our second fire suppression test in two weeks instead of the project four."

Carmen walks up to the foldable chair you were sitting in, peering over your shoulder to look at your screen. He rests his hand against the back of your chair unconsciously and you can feel the heat of his body radiating off of him. You clear your throat and lean forward a little to get some distance between the two of you.

"Who's that going to?" The man points to an email that you are in the middle of drafting. Your eyes follow and land on the email you were writing to one of your school buddies. "Oh that? I'm just messaging one of my old classmates from college about an idea I had about our issues with that retail food license thing."

Carmen humms, peeking down at you as you explained the process you were thinking of going through. Though your eyes were stuck on the screen, clicking through different documents as you continued your explanation, Carmen's eyes were glued to your face.

To him, this all felt like some weird dream that he was having. His former high school sweetheart, sitting in his restaurant, talking all kinds of smart talk that he could barely understand, practically pressed against him. Although he didn't move over to your chair with the intent to press against you, he definitely noticed the proximity that you two shared.

Life had been a whirlwind these past weeks, but he felt that when he was near you that a lot of those anxieties he often has screaming in his head quieted down a little. He tried to chalk it up to the confidence that he had in your skills, but even though you are incredibly talented in your work, he knew that it was something more than that.

Something that he had to swallow down.

"Carmy, you motherfucker, are you even listening to me?" You call out, turning more in your chair and fixing him with an annoyed glare. Carmen swallows before nodding his head. "Ye-yeah, you have a plan to get that retail food license and alcohol seller's license at once right?"

You hum, giving him a once over again before turning in your seat. "Exactly. I think that my buddy Stephen can help us with that fire suppression test, he knows a thing or two--"

Carmen's eyes trace down your eyes, nose, and lips, noting the signature bite marks you left on your bottom one. He runs a tongue across his own before carding a hand through his hair to collect himself.

He was so fucked.

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