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[superhoeva-archived]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬

¬ this kinktober decision was very last minute/late, but here we are. hoping to get caught up over fall break!

¬ warning(s): language, smut (oral sec, m receiving), carmen's biceps, just carmen in general lol

you don't know how he does it. it's an anomaly to you, really. all it is is a white t-shirt. a simple, plain white t-shirt, yet carmen makes it every bit of magnificent.

maybe it's the way the sleeves can barely stretch around his thick biceps. or maybe it's the mesmerizing way his back muscles strain against the white cotton.

whatever it is, he makes it work.

"hey."

when you don't respond, carmen sets down the dish he's drying and steps your way. a warm hand sits gently on your hip, carmen wondering why you still haven't answered his question.

"hey," he tries again and you finally blink out of your trance, "you okay?"

you have to blink a few times before answering, and still, your gaze jumps between his strong shoulders and pretty blue eyes. "yeah, sorry," you nod, "just thinking."

"'bout what?" carmen asks with an innocent twitch of his lips. he eyes you curiously when you bite back a sly grin and turn back to the porcelain plate you should be scrubbing.

"nothing," you lie, biting your lip to stop yourself from saying anything else. carmen stares at your teeth digging into the soft flesh before narrowing his eyes. he shuffles even closer to you, arms snaking their way around your middle.

he squeezes your sides while keeping his gaze planted on the side of your face. "doesn't seem like nothing," he mumbles into your cheek after pressing a sultry kiss on the corner of your mouth. "what's up?"

the question is innocent enough, but that damn shirt is clouding your brain with an undeniable heat. it's only a matter of a few short seconds before the plate in your hands is long forgotten.

carmy groans out in both surprise and delight when his lips press messily into yours. his grip loosens and becomes uncertain as you kiss him, but they find their place just under your chin after a few more moments. he melts into the kiss and you, grinding his hips into you as best he can.

you smile at his eagerness, pulling him impossibly closer. your hands palm over his strong back as his tongue dives into your mouth, which pulls a small groan from the both of you.

"still haven't told me what you're thinking about."

banter. carmen doesn't think he's good at it, as he's never had anyone to banter with. but, at this moment, he couldn't care less. because he knows you won't make fun of his attempts.

he tries (unknowingly succeeding more than he realizes), and that's good enough for you.

"how good you fucking look in something as plain as this t-shirt," you mumble against his lips, needing to breathe but unwilling to pull away any further. you needed him this close. to feel his warmth and the growing bulge that currently rests against your middle.

a small laugh leaves carmen, a blush making his face tint red. he shakes his head with fast breaths. "it's just a t-shirt, pretty girl. nothing special."

it's your turn to shake your head, but you decide against saying anything. instead, you press one more quick kiss into his lips before dropping to your knees.

carmen stares down at you with wild eyes and runs his fingers through his hair, leaving his hands tangled in the strands. he has to laugh at himself in disbelief, part of him believing that all of this just is a dream.

soon enough, his small grin is wiped away from his face, lips parting to expel a small, "fuck."

you swallow before planting a long lick all the way up his cock, and carmen has to grab the nearby countertop to steady himself. his chest is heaving, and you've barely touched him, yet he's already in heaven.

he's floating, high above all the rest, and he's content with the idea of never having to come back down.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[superhoeva-archived]

reblogging w more moots <3 (all no pressure btw)

@cheriesteve @hawdkins @passionatewrites @pedropcl @anchoeritic @attagurll @allaboardthereadingrailroad @smut-angel @rrestrella @squidlywiddly87 @starrynite7114 @jennarinks @ohcaptains @heardchef @sydneysadamu @carmybears @carmyz

sorry. switching blogs again. very indecisive. tagging moots <3

@joannasteez @junova @buckyhoney @aphrogeneias @honeystevie @luxurybeskar @balenciagabucky @withmyteeth @igigix @rae-gar-targaryen @cinewhore @brattyfics @thematthewmurdock @anactualcaseofthetruth @nightlywords7 @amorestevens @complete-nonsequitur @inyourbackpocketisbutterflies @celestianstars @alertyoulikeitsamber @berberriescorner @blowmymbackout @lovelytricia @est1887 @whatupitshuff @galatially @geniedetails @jannqt @certainaesthetic @paliaphrodite @sapphireplums @afriendlyblackhottie @upatnight @fvckthisbxtchup @altsvu @inklore @payperhearts @ctrlszn @moonlight-prose @onsunnyside @serendipityrogers @emilykjh @vanillanaps @diorcevans @fezrus @lcandothisallday @zstrn @likedovesinthewnd @alexmarie29 @tinytulip

[superhoeva-archived]

sorry. switching blogs again. very indecisive. tagging moots <3

@joannasteez @junova @buckyhoney @aphrogeneias @honeystevie @luxurybeskar @balenciagabucky @withmyteeth @igigix @rae-gar-targaryen @cinewhore @brattyfics @thematthewmurdock @anactualcaseofthetruth @nightlywords7 @amorestevens @complete-nonsequitur @inyourbackpocketisbutterflies @celestianstars @alertyoulikeitsamber @berberriescorner @blowmymbackout @lovelytricia @est1887 @whatupitshuff @galatially @geniedetails @jannqt @certainaesthetic @paliaphrodite @sapphireplums @afriendlyblackhottie @upatnight @fvckthisbxtchup @altsvu @inklore @payperhearts @ctrlszn @moonlight-prose @onsunnyside @serendipityrogers @emilykjh @vanillanaps @diorcevans @fezrus @lcandothisallday @zstrn @likedovesinthewnd @alexmarie29 @tinytulip

[superhoeva-archived]

Legit how writers feel when they see a flurry of notifs for one of their fics, and it's only likes...

To the folks who do reblog what they like: WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH AND YOU'RE AMAZING.

[superhoeva-archived]

this is the closest i've ever been to caving and posting exclusively ao3 🥴

[superhoeva-archived]

✧ PATRICK DEMPSEY D23Expo | Variety (September 10, 2022)

[superhoeva-archived]

Family’s up.

[superhoeva-archived]

Jeremy Allen White as Josh THE RENTAL 2020, dir. Dave Franco

[superhoeva-archived]

yeah the “i hope that’s okay” got me good 🥺

BF!Carmy Headcannons

I swear I'm still working on Carmy fics (slowly but surely I promise!!) but here have some morsels that have been living in my notes app -- all carmy x reader fluff

You’re the one who has to initiate the first kiss bc you’re pretty sure you were going to grow old waiting for him to do it

It was obvious that he wanted to kiss you (lots of long, lingering looks at your lips like WOW) but he’s still so uncertain of himself in romantic situations that he let his hesitations get the best of him

And let’s be real, you had been flirting your ass off trying to get him to kiss you — it could not have been any more clear that you wanted to just make out with him, but he was just not reading the signs

So the next time you caught him trying to turn away suddenly after letting his gaze linger on your lips, you caught his jaw and just planted a sweet kiss on his surprised lips

Just kiss him silly!! He deserves it!!

Physical touch is absolutely his love language, but he’s so touch starved and concerned about screwing up his first real relationship that it takes him a while to come around to being physically affectionate with you

Like, you come over to his apartment after a shift at the restaurant one night just to watch cooking shows together and he can’t even concentrate on TV because he’s too busy overthinking whether it’s ok for him to put his arm around you

When he finally comes around though, you can hardly keep his hands off you

If you’re in the kitchen cooking dinner together, Carmy’s gonna find a reason to put his hand around your waist or lower back. If you’re sitting together on the L, he’s got his hand on your knee. If you’re hanging out together on the couch, he’s got your legs draped across his lap

He is bad about holding hands tho

He doesn’t dislike holding hands by any means, but he’s not good at it — just too fidgety. He’s always toying with something (emotional support spoon) or talking with his hands, so holding hands for any period of time doesn’t work out for him that well. He’s always quick to give your hand a reassuring squeeze if you need it, or to run his thumb softly over the back of your knuckles though

Whenever you’re out and about together, he always makes sure to walk on the sidewalk between you and the street. Similarly, when standing at street intersections or on the platform waiting for the L, he angles himself toward you defensively, keeping half of his body tilted behind you so that no one could come up from behind and shove you forward into danger.

As a transplant to the Chicago, you make it your life’s mission to make Carmy take you on dates to typical touristy destinations around the city, even though he insists that they’re overrated

He complains the whole way out to Shedd Aquarium but then the two of you end up having the best time watching the fish and touching the stingrays in the touch pool. He won’t admit it, but it’s actually kind of a relief to be out of his normal environment and to have some time enjoying the city through your eyes.

Afterward, you drag him through Millennium park to see the Cloud Gate (and make lots of jokes about him being able to find the bean along the way)

When you arrive, the sun is just getting ready to set, and the reflective surface of the sculpture glows in shades of orange and pink. The stainless steel is smudged with fingerprints, but you still pull out your phone and take pictures in the mirrored surface, including your favorite photo of yourself and Carmy where he has his arms draped loosely around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple

Because his work schedule makes it hard to plan out specific date nights, you start making a habit of texting him a picture of the ingredients for whatever dinner you’re making that night, telling him you’ve got enough food for two

When late summer gives way to a brisk autumn, you can’t help but notice the way carmy’s cheeks and the tip of his nose turn red in the cold wind as he walks to and from work everyday, so you take to greeting him with a kiss, cradling his cheeks in your hands

“I’m just helping you defrost” you explain, feeling the sharpness of his cool skin under your warm palm

(He thinks that maybe you’re defrosting him in more ways than one)

The first time you come back to his apartment after a shift at the restaurant, he clams up a bit, slightly embarrassed at the state of the place with its minimal decorations, oven full of vintage denim and nightstand cluttered with Pepto and 5 Hour Energy. It actually makes him a bit nauseous to imagine what his place must look like to you. But he’s relieved when you take it all in stride, choosing instead to flip through his stack of cookbooks and ask him how he got into vintage denim collecting.

The only thing you rib him about is his choice in peanut butter as he makes you both pb&j’s. “Really Carmen, creamy peanut butter,” you mock disgust. “What are you? Afraid of a little crunch?”

He has crunchy peanut butter in his cabinet by the next time you visit.

Carmy definitely has some trouble with an avoidant attachment style, and frequently needs his own space, especially after sharing anything with you that is particularly sensitive or vulnerable. He’s really working on being a communicative partner though, and does what he can to make sure you know that he isn’t pushing you away and that he appreciates you respecting his boundaries.

He’s always sure to make it up you out afterward though — whether it’s leaving work early enough to cook you dinner, taking you out for date night or just spending some extra time cuddling together, he’s determined to make sure you know how special you are to him.

When Carmy realizes that he’s in love with you, it scares him shitless because oh my god he really didn’t expect to ever feel this way about someone and he had pretty much accepted it as a fact of life that he’d always just be coming home to an empty apartment

The trouble with realizing that he loves you is that he absolutely obsesses over how to tell you, and he ends up acting strange and shy around you for a full week before you finally crack and ask just what the hell has gotten into him lately

“I’m sorry it’s just that I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you that I love you.”

“You love me?”

“Uh, yeah. I hope that’s ok.”

Instead of answering, you kiss him tenderly and tell him that you love him too.

[superhoeva-archived]

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 || 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 “𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟐” (𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐱

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: m.t. rogers and barnes meet with thor. apologies are given.

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve rogers, bucky barnes, erik killmonger (mentioned), and you!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i finally had some time to sit down and finish this. thank you all for being patient, and i hope to have the next chapter out sometime soon!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): language, some fluff, that's about it, 18+/minors dni (if I missed anything, pretty please let me know!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

Thor lies stiffly on his cot, the darkness of the night hiding the pinched expression on his face. It’s cruel the way his conversation with M.T. Rogers prevents him from getting anything close to rest, but he can’t help but this he deserves it.

The cold air in the room is thick with an uncomfortable intensity. 

Thor sits uncomfortably in the single chair one one side of Steve’s desk. The cook finds it quite difficult to swallow under the heavy glare of M.T. Rogers, who is settled strongly on the other side of his desk. Barnes, who stands to the side of Steve with his arms crossed, makes it even harder.

“Your behavior at dinner was highly disrespectful, Thor. And that’s putting it lightly,” Steve starts carefully, and Thor shifts in his seat. He’s not used to Roger’s voice being so cutting, as Thor’s only heard this tone when Druig and Pietro become too petty for the team’s liking. “Is there some kind of problem I’m not aware of? Something between you and the archivist?”

Thor finally gains the courage to look his boss in the eye. “No,” he rushes out quickly. “No, nothing’s happened. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Thor?” Bucky finally chimes in with a condescending tilt of his head. “We know you well enough to assume that there was a reason you were such a dick to her earluer, and we need to know what that reason is–”

“Buck,” Steve stops his friend, who sighs deeply and takes a deep breath, before letting himself soften just a touch. “You’re a good guy, Thor. But Bucky’s right… if there’s not a reason behind your actions towards our neset arrival, then you and I are going to have a different discussion.”

Thor clenches his jaw at Steve’s words as the look on your face replays in his head for the thousandth time. His voice is lowly and shameful when he speakers again.

“I feel as though I came off a bit strongly during our meeting. And since that day I have not been able to look at her without feeling that I’ve made her uncomfortable in some way….”

“And your solution to this problem is to be an ass? And make her more uncomfortable?” Bucky pauses after receiving a knowing look from Steve. “Sorry…”

Steve sighs and runs a tired hand over his face. The time of night makes it damn near impposible to hold back the multiple yawns that threaten to escape out of him. His eyes peek over at the clock and he signs again.

“First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to call her in here. You, her, and I are going to talk this out, and then you’re going to apologize. And mean it.”

Even with the sweatshirt gracing the top of your body, the cold air of the base still finds a way through the thick fibers. Your arms are wrapped around your body as you tip out of your room as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to wake anyone at this time of night.

Erik had left your room about half an hour ago after he’d obliged your request of listing off more facts about Antarctica. He laid with an elbow propping him up so he could really see you, adoring the way your eye lit up at every ounce of new information. Your hand tracing back and forth on his chest felt nice, too.

You stroll down the hallway, smiling back to the memory of Erik saying something about every way being north when a small light in the catches your attention. The small sound of shuffling coming from the kitchen almost forces you to stop, but the grumbling of your stomach keeps you going. The soup you never ate for dinneris catching up with you now.

Your breath catches in your throat when you come upon a head of long, blonde hair. Thor turns around from his place at the stove and freezes. The both of your stand motionless and wide-eyed, and you’re unable to swallow the lump that appears in your throat.

There a few more moments of silence before Thor breathes out a shaky, “...hello.” 

After a pitiful clear of your throat, you muster a good a smile as possible, but you’re absolutely sure it looks more painful han anything. “Hey,” you rasp out quietly, ignoring the the loud growl your stomach expels. “I think I’ll just wait until morning to eat.”

“No, no,” Thor calls out gently with an outstretched arm, “please if you could just–”

“It’s okay, really,” you shake your head and head for the kitchen’s exit, “I’ll just grab something when I wake up.”

Thor hurries after you, not caring about how he bumps his hip on the large metal island in the middle of the kitchen as he rushes. He follows after where you disappeared, his long legs allowing him to catch up with you faster than you like. The chef steps into your path, leaving enough space between the two of you as to not be more invasive than he already is.

“If you could just allow me to apologize,” Thor attempts with a pinched expression, “and I know I don’t deserve one second of your time, but I would appreciate if you gave me the chance to do so.”

Thor’s low rasp and shining eyes almost have you entranced. Almost.

“Have I offended you in some way? I mean, we haven’t even spoken more than ten words with one another before now, so I can’t think of anything. But if I did, I’d rather you tell me than treat me the way you did at dinner.”

Thor closes his eyes with a long sigh, the sickening feeling of guilt bubbling in his stomach. He takes a deep breath before peeling open his lids, shy gaze meeting you guarded one.

“You have done nothing to offend me, and I am more than sorry for making you think as though you did. I feel that I should also apologize for my actions at dinner and the day of your arrival. It was wrong of me to treat you in such a–”

“Wait, Thor,” you stop him, eyebrows furrowed. “I understand why you’re apologizing for dinner, but why the day I arrived? What happened then?”

Thor has to pause and think about his answer. His heart beat slows down a few paces as the look in your eyes rears from restrained disdain to confusion. “Whe–when I greeted you. I was… inappropriate. I made you uncomfortable, and instead of trying to better the situation, I worsened it. My own feelings of shame and ambrrrasement dictated my behavior, and I treated you improperly. And for that, as I said, I am sorry.”

“Are you talking about when you said hello and gave me a hug?” Thor nods immediately, a sheepish look falling over his face. “Thor, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I was… flattered. And nervous. There were so many new people around–new, attractive people–that I was in the process of meeting… is that all this was about?”

Thor’s mouth drops open, but he can’t seem to find any words. You soften, taking a few steps forward. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Thor. And, trust me, I would’ve told you if that was the case.”

A heavy breath leaves the large man, and some of the weight on his shoulders seem to lift.

“But I’m still upset with you about dinner. Made me feel like shit and embrassaed me in front of everyone…” You murmur, sending him a small raise of your eyebrows.

Thor nods understandingly, promising that, “I will make it up to you. Even if it takes forever, you have my word that I will never treat you in such a way ever again.”

You can see in Thor’s eyes that he means every syllable he utters, and can’t help the small smile that now sits upon your face. However, before you can say anything else, a loud roar from your stomach seems to echo throughout the hallway. A nervous chuckle leaves you, and Thor grabs your hand before you can put it over your loud middle.

He holds it tenderly as he asks, “if you would allow me to start making it up to you by making you something to eat?” 

“I am pretty hungry,” you nod with a small grin. ‘Also, Erik just gave me one of the best orgasms of my life, and the best orgasms of one’s life tend to take a lot out of a person.’ “...okay. But you should know that I haven’t forgiven completely just yet.”

Thor squeezes your hand as he leads you back toward the kitchen. “I know, my lady.”

[superhoeva-archived]

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 || 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 “𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟐” (𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭)

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐱

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: m.t. rogers and barnes meet with thor. apologies are given.

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: steve rogers, bucky barnes, erik killmonger (mentioned), and you!

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i finally had some time to sit down and finish this. thank you all for being patient, and i hope to have the next chapter out sometime soon!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): language, some fluff, that's about it, 18+/minors dni (if I missed anything, pretty please let me know!)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

Thor lies stiffly on his cot, the darkness of the night hiding the pinched expression on his face. It’s cruel the way his conversation with M.T. Rogers prevents him from getting anything close to rest, but he can’t help but this he deserves it.

The cold air in the room is thick with an uncomfortable intensity. 

Thor sits uncomfortably in the single chair one one side of Steve’s desk. The cook finds it quite difficult to swallow under the heavy glare of M.T. Rogers, who is settled strongly on the other side of his desk. Barnes, who stands to the side of Steve with his arms crossed, makes it even harder.

“Your behavior at dinner was highly disrespectful, Thor. And that’s putting it lightly,” Steve starts carefully, and Thor shifts in his seat. He’s not used to Roger’s voice being so cutting, as Thor’s only heard this tone when Druig and Pietro become too petty for the team’s liking. “Is there some kind of problem I’m not aware of? Something between you and the archivist?”

Thor finally gains the courage to look his boss in the eye. “No,” he rushes out quickly. “No, nothing’s happened. It’s just…”

“It’s just what, Thor?” Bucky finally chimes in with a condescending tilt of his head. “We know you well enough to assume that there was a reason you were such a dick to her earluer, and we need to know what that reason is–”

“Buck,” Steve stops his friend, who sighs deeply and takes a deep breath, before letting himself soften just a touch. “You’re a good guy, Thor. But Bucky’s right… if there’s not a reason behind your actions towards our neset arrival, then you and I are going to have a different discussion.”

Thor clenches his jaw at Steve’s words as the look on your face replays in his head for the thousandth time. His voice is lowly and shameful when he speakers again.

“I feel as though I came off a bit strongly during our meeting. And since that day I have not been able to look at her without feeling that I’ve made her uncomfortable in some way….”

“And your solution to this problem is to be an ass? And make her more uncomfortable?” Bucky pauses after receiving a knowing look from Steve. “Sorry…”

Steve sighs and runs a tired hand over his face. The time of night makes it damn near impposible to hold back the multiple yawns that threaten to escape out of him. His eyes peek over at the clock and he signs again.

“First thing tomorrow morning, I’m going to call her in here. You, her, and I are going to talk this out, and then you’re going to apologize. And mean it.”

Even with the sweatshirt gracing the top of your body, the cold air of the base still finds a way through the thick fibers. Your arms are wrapped around your body as you tip out of your room as quietly as you can muster, not wanting to wake anyone at this time of night.

Erik had left your room about half an hour ago after he’d obliged your request of listing off more facts about Antarctica. He laid with an elbow propping him up so he could really see you, adoring the way your eye lit up at every ounce of new information. Your hand tracing back and forth on his chest felt nice, too.

You stroll down the hallway, smiling back to the memory of Erik saying something about every way being north when a small light in the catches your attention. The small sound of shuffling coming from the kitchen almost forces you to stop, but the grumbling of your stomach keeps you going. The soup you never ate for dinneris catching up with you now.

Your breath catches in your throat when you come upon a head of long, blonde hair. Thor turns around from his place at the stove and freezes. The both of your stand motionless and wide-eyed, and you’re unable to swallow the lump that appears in your throat.

There a few more moments of silence before Thor breathes out a shaky, “...hello.” 

After a pitiful clear of your throat, you muster a good a smile as possible, but you’re absolutely sure it looks more painful han anything. “Hey,” you rasp out quietly, ignoring the the loud growl your stomach expels. “I think I’ll just wait until morning to eat.”

“No, no,” Thor calls out gently with an outstretched arm, “please if you could just–”

“It’s okay, really,” you shake your head and head for the kitchen’s exit, “I’ll just grab something when I wake up.”

Thor hurries after you, not caring about how he bumps his hip on the large metal island in the middle of the kitchen as he rushes. He follows after where you disappeared, his long legs allowing him to catch up with you faster than you like. The chef steps into your path, leaving enough space between the two of you as to not be more invasive than he already is.

“If you could just allow me to apologize,” Thor attempts with a pinched expression, “and I know I don’t deserve one second of your time, but I would appreciate if you gave me the chance to do so.”

Thor’s low rasp and shining eyes almost have you entranced. Almost.

“Have I offended you in some way? I mean, we haven’t even spoken more than ten words with one another before now, so I can’t think of anything. But if I did, I’d rather you tell me than treat me the way you did at dinner.”

Thor closes his eyes with a long sigh, the sickening feeling of guilt bubbling in his stomach. He takes a deep breath before peeling open his lids, shy gaze meeting you guarded one.

“You have done nothing to offend me, and I am more than sorry for making you think as though you did. I feel that I should also apologize for my actions at dinner and the day of your arrival. It was wrong of me to treat you in such a–”

“Wait, Thor,” you stop him, eyebrows furrowed. “I understand why you’re apologizing for dinner, but why the day I arrived? What happened then?”

Thor has to pause and think about his answer. His heart beat slows down a few paces as the look in your eyes rears from restrained disdain to confusion. “Whe–when I greeted you. I was… inappropriate. I made you uncomfortable, and instead of trying to better the situation, I worsened it. My own feelings of shame and ambrrrasement dictated my behavior, and I treated you improperly. And for that, as I said, I am sorry.”

“Are you talking about when you said hello and gave me a hug?” Thor nods immediately, a sheepish look falling over his face. “Thor, I wasn’t uncomfortable. I was… flattered. And nervous. There were so many new people around–new, attractive people–that I was in the process of meeting… is that all this was about?”

Thor’s mouth drops open, but he can’t seem to find any words. You soften, taking a few steps forward. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, Thor. And, trust me, I would’ve told you if that was the case.”

A heavy breath leaves the large man, and some of the weight on his shoulders seem to lift.

“But I’m still upset with you about dinner. Made me feel like shit and embrassaed me in front of everyone…” You murmur, sending him a small raise of your eyebrows.

Thor nods understandingly, promising that, “I will make it up to you. Even if it takes forever, you have my word that I will never treat you in such a way ever again.”

You can see in Thor’s eyes that he means every syllable he utters, and can’t help the small smile that now sits upon your face. However, before you can say anything else, a loud roar from your stomach seems to echo throughout the hallway. A nervous chuckle leaves you, and Thor grabs your hand before you can put it over your loud middle.

He holds it tenderly as he asks, “if you would allow me to start making it up to you by making you something to eat?” 

“I am pretty hungry,” you nod with a small grin. ‘Also, Erik just gave me one of the best orgasms of my life, and the best orgasms of one’s life tend to take a lot out of a person.’ “...okay. But you should know that I haven’t forgiven completely just yet.”

Thor squeezes your hand as he leads you back toward the kitchen. “I know, my lady.”

[superhoeva-archived]

carmen + double takes because of sydney

bonus:

[superhoeva-archived]

i didn’t procrastinate for the first time in forever, so i hoping to have something out for you guys later today!

[superhoeva-archived]

“He would’ve loved you.”

Stay

pairing: carmy berzatto X female!reader

summary: meeting Carmy's sister for the first time. tw for panic attacks.

word count: 2.9K

The sound of shattering ceramic in the other room makes your head snap up with a start. Across the couch from you, Sugar’s eyebrows knit together in concern — an expression you can only think of as “older sister face”—as she calls out to her brother.

“Everything ok in there, Carm?”

“Guess we know why he’s a chef and not a dish washer,” Pete chuckles, giving her a good natured pat on the knee in reassurance.

When you don’t hear a sound in the other room, you feel a lump begin to grow in your throat. 

“I should go check on-“ Sugar starts.

“No, no I got it,” you volunteer, recalling Carmy’s previous statements to you about this sister’s sixth sense for knowing when he’s in trouble (and scolding him for being a “soft shitty bitch” whenever he refuses her help).

“I was gonna refill my drink here in a minute anyway. Can I get you some more wine?” You ask, but don’t wait for an answer as you hurry to your feet and out of the room, leaving the wine glasses forgotten on the table.

__

This was your first time meeting Carmy’s sister.

In the months since you started dating, you had already become well acquainted with his work family, but you knew that Carmy had some hesitations about introducing you to his real family. In the wake of Mikey’s death, he had been putting effort into mending his relationship with his sister, although progress didn’t necessarily come easy. Regardless, someone (probably Richie) let it slip to Sugar that “some girl” had been coming around the restaurant, “making Carmen all smiley.” Before you knew it, Carmy was begrudgingly extending his sister’s invitation to come around for dinner at her house.

The night of the dinner, Carmy drove you out to Sugar’s and you fretted the whole way there about how you looked, what small talk you would make, whether she’d like the bottle of wine you’d brought. But every time Carmy heard the insecurity creeping into your voice, he reached over and gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, thumb running softly over your knuckles.

When you arrived, you were greeted by Sugar and Pete, already standing on the front doorstep, ready to pull you into a warm hug.

“It’s so good to meet you!” Sugar tells you with a squeeze. “God, look at you. You’re out of his league.”

She turns and says this with a wink to her brother before pulling him into an embrace as well.

Pete claps you on the shoulder warmly. “Good to have you here - it’s always nice to get another outsiders perspective on these two.”

Dinner itself is phenomenal—you learn that Sugar makes an eggplant parmesan that is to die for and you can’t help but wonder whether aptitude in the kitchen is genetic. Although, you do feel a bit like you’re on display for the first few hours of the evening because every time Carmy even so much as looks at you, Sugar’s eyes widen in delight like a kid on Christmas morning. Eventually Carmy nudges her arm and shakes his head at her, mumbling something about not wanting to scare you off.

At the end of the meal, you stand with your plate in hand, more than happy to help clean up after the amazing meal Sugar had prepared for you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Sugar fusses, reaching out to take the plate.

“No, no I insist. Dinner was so great, it’s the least I can do.”

“How about I get the dishes,” Carmy offers, turning to his sister. “You can go tell embarrassing stories about me in the other room or something. I don’t need to be there when you pull out my sixth grade yearbook picture.”

Sugar looks like she wants to continue to debate the matter but decides against it, settling for topping off your wine glass and motioning to the living room around the corner.

You stack your dishes beside the sink and give Carmy’s arm a quick squeeze. "God, I bet you were such an awkward sixth grader.”

His lips pull into a brief smile and he lets out a knowing chuckle.

“Believe me, I was.” He plants a quick peck on your cheek. “I’ll be out there in a few.”

_

When you enter the kitchen, Carmy’s back is to you as he stands at the sink and you see shards of ceramic – one of Sugar’s dinner plates—scattered on the floor surrounding his feet. Only when you step in closer do you notice the white knuckle grip that Carmy has on the countertop and the way he’s leaning against the granite for stability.

“Carmy?” your voice is panicked as you rush over to his side, sidestepping the worst of the broken dishware on the floor.

When you reach him, all of the color has drained from Carmy’s face and he’s got a fist pressed tightly to his chest as he sucks in frantic, shallow breaths. He blinks heavily, eyes squeezing together as if in pain, and you register something like fear in his eyes when he reopens them.

Your heart catches in your throat as you reach out to him, extending a shaking hand to cover his fist, now clawing at the fabric of his shirt.

“Carmy, Carm –“ You try to keep your voice a soothing tone as you press your fingertips lightly at his jaw. “Carmen.”

His gaze shifts and he starts, seemingly just now aware of your presence. He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“Carmy, honey, you’re having a panic attack,” you tell him. “Let’s sit you down, alright?”

At first, you start to steer him toward the kitchen table before he hesitates, keeping his feet planted firmly where he stands. When you look up, you realize why – the table is in full view of the living room, directly in the line of sight of Sugar and Pete.

“Ok, c’mere,” you coax him in the opposite direction, finding an open space away from the broken plate where Carmy can slide to the floor, back pressed up against the cabinets as you settle onto the ground in front of him, gripping his hand firmly in yours.

“If you breathe, you’re gonna feel a lot better. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

He gulps in a shaking breath, which he immediately exhales. Not great, but it’s a start.

“Ok, that’s good,” you nod, rubbing your hand in circles on his back. “This time, I want you to do that for two seconds. I’ll do it with you, ok.”

You breathe in audibly through your nose, counting out the seconds on your fingers as Carmy does the same.

“That’s better, let’s do it again.”

Again, Carmy breathes and you squeeze his hand reassuringly.

“You’re doing great, baby. Now lemme see you hold that breath for two seconds and then exhale out real slow.”

You continue to guide him in his breathing, counting out loud as he gradually builds up to taking longer, deeper breaths. Some of the color seems to have come back into his face, and you can feel his pulse thumping in his wrist, still rapid, but not alarmingly so.

When you stop counting aloud, Carmy continues taking the long breaths on his own, tilting his head back to rest against the cabinet with his eyes closed. You readjust your position on the floor so that you’re sitting beside him, bodies pressed together hip to shoulder as you continue rubbing small circles on his back.

A shadow crosses the doorway, and you see Sugar enter the kitchen, a look of alarm crossing her face.

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, willing her not to make a sound. It’s ok, you mouth to her.

The look of concern never leaves her face, but she nods trustingly and retreats back to the living room.

A few minutes later, you feel Carmy squeeze your hand tightly and you turn to look at him. His eyes are red and look more sullen than usual, but otherwise he looks fine.

“Thank you,” he rasps, not quite meeting your eye as he rakes a hand nervously through his hair and shifts his weight as he begins to stand. “I’m just gonna, uh, splash some water on my face. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” you promise.

Carmy disappears down the hall and you hear the click of a door and the faucet running a second later. In his absence, you find a broom and dustpan, cleaning up the broken plate the best you can before Carmy returns.

He says nothing when he comes back, just eyes the now clean floor and nods curtly. The pinched expression on his face tells you that he’s just barely holding something back, so you keep your questions to yourself and allow him to twine your fingers together before leading you back to the living room.

“Uh oh, there are the lovebirds,” Pete chimes when you return. “I was getting scared that you two might be up to trouble.”

Sugar’s face contorts from exasperation to defeat, but you see Carmy smile out of the corner of your eye, acting as if nothing had just happened in the kitchen as he addresses his brother in law.

“Not too much trouble, unless you’re asking the plates. Let me know how much I owe you for that, by the way.”

Pete shakes his head. “You don’t wanna know dude. That shit’s Crate & Barrel – costs an arm and a leg.”

--

Thankfully, the rest of the evening passes without incident, and you almost forget about the scene in the kitchen. Almost.

You and Carmy had brought along a box of Marcus’s latest donut creations for dessert, which the four of you happily dive into, swiping crumbs from your plate when you’re done. Sugar and Carmy take turns telling stories about each other, and Pete even brings up a few stories from his childhood, prompting you to take mental bets with yourself about his upbringing (your money is on him being an only child from an upper middle class family in Nebraska; only a flyover state could produce such a degree of loud, overconfident politeness in a man like Pete).

It’s only when you catch Carmy yawning out of the corner of your eye that you all take note of the late hour and begin the process of saying goodbye. You shrug in to your coat and Sugar loads up your arms with leftovers from dinner, all the while begging Carmy to leave the final two donuts at the house for her and Pete.

In a whirlwind, you are pulled into a warm hug and a kiss is pressed into your cheek as you stand on the doorstep with Carmy. As the two of you start down the front steps toward the car, you hear Sugar’s voice behind you.

“Carmy? Can I see you a sec?”

You sense Carmy’s hesitation but he lingers back as you proceed to the car, depositing the leftover food safely in the backseat. When you turn back, the Berzattos are standing close together, voices low and heads tilted toward each other in conversation. The warm glow of the porchlight catches in a few strands of their hair, illuminating them both in an angelic glow as Sugar pulls Carmy into a final hug and says her goodbyes.

Carmy ambles over to the car, and in the dim moonlight, you notice how weary his face looks now that he’s no longer putting on a polite charade for his sister and brother-in-law.

“Baby, how about you let me drive,” you suggest, running a hand down the rough woolen sleeve of his plaid jacket. “No offense, but you look like you got hit by a bus.”

Carmy looks at you a moment and a wry smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “That’s how I usually look.”

“Well, then it looks like you got hit by a bigger bus than usual.”

He lets out a dry laugh and hands the keys over to you.

You crank the heat in his car the moment you start the vehicle, needing a dry blast of heat to cut through the damp chill of early fall in Chicago. With mirrors and seats adjusted, you pull away from the curb and Carmy directs you out of Sugar’s neighborhood, the headlights of the vehicle cutting through the darkness of Sugar’s suburban streets.

“I think that went really well,” Carmy remarks after directing you to make a left turn onto a more familiar street. “Sugar loves you.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t love me,” you chuckle, bringing the car to a stop at a red light.

“She told me so,” he insists. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s already requested to follow you on Instagram and is plotting to invite you to book club with her college friends.”

“Book club? Do they read anything interesting?”

The light turns green and you make the turn onto the highway, accelerating steadily as you merge with traffic. For a few miles, you and Carmy sit together in silence. You swallow the lump that has been gradually forming in your throat since dessert and your palms grow slick as you wonder how best to speak to Carmy about what happened tonight. You suppose you could just let it be for now, although you have a sneaking suspicion, knowing Carmy, that he won’t bring it up unprompted.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the city lights sliding over Carmy’s features as you speed back toward home – red and green lights casting long shadows over his cheekbones, fanned out under his eyelashes.

Your chest constricts as you make the decision to dive in.

“So do you get panic attacks a lot?”

There is a beat of silence before he exhales heavily. “How do you define a lot?”

You give him a stern look over the center console before fixing your eyes back on the road, his hands fidgeting in your peripheral vision.

“I started getting them a lot around the time I came back here,” He admitted slowly. “I suppose I probably used to have a version of them back in New York, y’know, with the whole vomit before work thing. But really, it’s been since Mikey.”

You nod silently, flicking the blinker with your left hand as you change lanes, knowing that your exit is coming up.

“This is the first time I’ve had one since meeting you, though. The last time, Syd had just started at The Beef and I just ran out on her, hauled ass to get to the Al Anon meeting across town. I dunno how to explain it, but I just had to get out of the Restaurant, away from Mikey. It had started to feel to real, y’know? Like he was alive again.”

He lets out a long breath, scratching at the crown of his head as he tended to do whenever he was getting stressed or uncomfortable.

“That’s how it felt tonight too –With you meeting Sugar and all. I was standin’ there doing the dishes and thinking God, this is going great and the thought occurred to me that I couldn’t wait for you to meet Mikey.”

Carmy’s still fidgeting, fingers drumming against his thigh, toying with a loose thread on his jacket. You reach out to him and lay your hand over his, squeezing lightly.

He squeezes back and whispers, so quietly that you almost don’t hear it. “He would’ve loved you.”

Your throat feels tight and you’re surprised to feel the prickle of tears stinging your eyes as you listen to his confession.

“I wish I could have met him, Carmy. I really do.”

You take your exit off the highway and zigzag your way down the surrounding streets until you come to Carmy’s apartment, fortunate enough to find parking on your first pass down the street. As soon as you open the car doors, the damp chill of the autumn air raises goosebumps up and down your arms with a shiver.

You’ve barely stepped onto the sidewalk when Carmy tugs you into a tight hug, arms wrapped tightly around your torso as he presses his lips to your forehead. You squeeze your arms around him as you bury your face into the curve of his shoulder and feel him let out a long breath. You stand there for nearly a full minute, wrapped up in each other, unmoving until Carmy finally steps away.

“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” he asks, motioning his head in the direction of his building.

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask, a bit surprised. Up to this point of your relationship, Carmy had always had a habit of retreating back after sharing such vulnerable pieces of himself – his relationship with his brother, his anxieties about the restaurant. You’d always respected his space, understanding that he’d come back around when he wasn’t feeling so raw. Honestly, you had already expected that tonight you’d be catching the L home and wouldn’t hear from him until tomorrow, so it came as a surprise when he nodded yes, blue eyes pleading with you in ways that words couldn’t.

“Of course I’ll stay,” you promised him. And as you walked arm in arm into the building, you hoped he knew that you would always stay if he needed you to.

[superhoeva-archived]

paramore | this is why music video (2022)

[superhoeva-archived]

maybe this is bc i’m from the south and not fuckin uhhhh new york or wherever the hell but like. it is still not really normalized for a man to wear makeup or nail polish. women with short hair still get offensive comments about their appearances. like even small acts of gender nonconformity can still be scary and dangerous in 2021 and i feel like so many people just live in this progressive bubble where they think that all dudes being Remotely “feminine” in some way are like homophobic tiktok e-boys doing it for clout or whatever and that’s uh. fucking stupid. like i can PROMISE you that the vast majority of gender nonconforming people are not trying to do something that’s never been done before, nor are they claiming to do so, they’re just trying to live their lives and look the way they want to look. you aren’t helping anybody by trying to police who has the right to be wearing skirts or painting their nails or doing their hair a certain way.

anyway this is ur daily reminder that gender nonconformity is not a trend and it’s gross to attack people for being gender nonconforming in a way that you think “has been done before” or “isn’t that special” or whatever the fuck. like i’m sorry but it’s just cruel and hateful! being gender nonconforming still takes bravery and courage. people still face discrimination and harassment. whose cause do you think you’re helping by attempting to be the gatekeeper of nontraditional gender expression? genuinely, who do you think benefits when you attack people for stepping outside of the bounds of traditional gender expression? who? because it certainly fucking isn’t gnc people.

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guys how do you shoot your shot with someone you don’t really talk to?