Threaded Through

That’s my lion shaped son right there you see him he’s so precious

Also it took me so long to register that Yarnaby’s a child i thought that’s just some creature I’m even sadder now…

Out of Style

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 6k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than the reader, cw food mentions, cursing, hurt/comfort, suggestive content, Fluff.

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Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 8 >>> CHAPTER 9

Closing the door quietly, you press your sleep deprived head on the wood, cursing your cowardice. You saw him yet you chose to ignore him.

You sit down on your cold bed, books and bag clattering on the floor. Pressing the heels of your palms to your eyes, your mind flips back to five minutes ago. How Hobie lingers on the sideline, waiting for you. From where you stood you couldn't possibly see his face. You have a hunch on what he feels though, maybe embarrassed that you saw him like that? Confused on why you ran from him? Probably. You imagine it, but one emotion you couldn't possibly wish to see: anger. Furious that you didn't let him say his peace, or annoyed that you disturbed his time with that woman.

You sigh, eyeing the package Peter gave you. Grabbing it from the carpet, opening the small paper bag, you see the spider that bit Hobie, body trapped inside a glass square casing.

You feel like that dead spider right now, the bug that bit more than it can chew, ending up hurting itself because it took a chance.

Looking at the arachnid, you spot its silhouette, circular body with eight arms protruding from the sides. You have a lightbulb moment.

Taking the leather vest you've thrifted on your own and tailored specifically for Hobie. You flip it on its back, showing the dreaded empty space. You bite your lip, striding over to your table, grabbing fabric chalk to draw the spider's outline.

Looking at it from a distance, from the spikes on the shoulder, to the various pins and patches you've placed on the leather. Some of them show your influence on the design, scattered flowers and references from your time together. A stereo that looks exactly like the one you two always brought everywhere you went, the pink notebook, a catalyst for the start of your friendship together. Even a green puppet that looks like Terry. You think it's perfect, now to paint the spider.

Excited to get started, you suddenly realize if he still wants to help you. After your dramatic exit, doubt lingers in the back of your mind. Will he even go to the show now that he's got someone? Someone better, someone who isn't so afraid of saying how they feel. Someone who's more like him.

Your heart shudders at the thought of standing alone from now on, fingers tracing over the cherry patch that you've painstakingly embroidered, peripheral glancing over the picture Yuri took of you two on the boat, it's a bit blurry, you're smiling as he carries you in his arms, he matches your expression, eyes closed in delight.

You make the choice, not wanting to cut off ties with your best mate just because you hurt yourself. Hobie doesn't know how much you like him, he's not a telepath that can read your mind.

You bravely face the truth.

Unrequited feelings bubbling to the surface, a sob breaks through, hot tears spilling over on the leather vest. Fabric chalk dissolving in your tears.

You decide, even if it kills you to do so.

—

You ran away again, mentally beating yourself up, lamenting all the things you should've done instead of running away.

You chew your bottom lip anxiously, shifting from leg to leg, playing with the frayed edges of a loose thread on the embroidered flowers that you've painstakingly stitched on your lace cami. Your eyes dart around the backstage of the fashion show, classmates running around to fix any last minute changes on their models. You on the other hand, sit by your lonesome, the plastic chair scrapes on the floor as you stand up by the umpteenth time, pacing around in your heavy platform boots that you've customized yourself. The little red butterfly wings painted on the back of the boots make it look like you're gliding around the wooden floors, chain rattling around the laces as you pace with unease.

The outfit you're wearing is a perfect partner to what was supposed to be Hobie's outfit. You worry that he won't show up, palms sweaty at the thought. But this is Hobie, he won't let you down, right? Unless he's with that woman right now then you have to accept your fate, which is you walking down that blasted runway.

Mrs. Williams peeks behind the curtain, you can briefly see the growing crowd behind her. Fuck, you internally curse biting at your nails, nail polish bitter as your tongue touches your nail.

"Five minutes till show time" Mrs. Williams roams her eyes around her frozen students and partners, eyes stopping on your form. "And only five minutes" she addresses you, your heart stops, fellow designers look at you with pity.

Your hope is dwindling.

You gulp down, lace cami hugging your torso uncomfortably, unbuttoning the sleeves of your white frilly blouse to give you some breathing room. You now regret wearing such an elaborate outfit, it was supposed to be a surprise for Hobie, wherever said man is.

Grabbing the bright red blazer draped on the back of the chair, you hug it against your chest, hand tracing the safety pins strategically placed on the back to look like wings. You calm down a bit, but not enough.

Someone taps your shoulder, hope blossoms, turning around, your hopeful smile fades, seeing your classmate Hannah looking at you apologetically.

"Sorry," she winces, knowing your predicament, bright pink hair noticeable against her darker clothing, "but can you help me with this stitch? Please, it'll only take a second, I just need you to hold this bit." she raises her partner's arm, a loose thread that has come undone in the seams sway slightly in the wind.

"Yeah, of course" you give her a polite smile.

"Thank you, y/n" she sighs, relieved. Her partner looks unbothered around the chaos.

Better be bored than not around, you thought. Maybe you shouldn't have come that day, you might've lived in ignorant bliss to what happened that fateful morning but at least your heart would still be in one piece. You miss him, even with what he did, Hobie is still your best friend after all, before you came to love him, first and foremost he's your friend.

You ignored his calls, too heartbroken to talk to him, even more so seeing him, that's why you told your RA not to let him inside your dorm, giving her the excuse that you're sick and want to be alone. With a raised eyebrow she accepted and understood, not asking any more questions. Maybe that was wrong of you to do, maybe talking to him like an adult was better. You can't blame him for finding someone else to warm his bed, you're not together, the only thing that cements his feelings for you was a very subtle confession and an almost kiss.

Your eyes start to glaze over again, lips trembling at the thought of him lying to you or worse you read the entire thing wrong. You have no idea what to make of everything, it doesn't help that he stopped trying to call days ago. You almost picked up one time, heartache taking over, you let the phone ring to what seemed to be endless.

"And done, thanks" Hannah smiles, you nod at her friendliness. "Don't worry he'll be here, maybe he's just stuck in traffic" she gives you a comforting pat on the back. "Thanks for telling about that embroidery trick by the way, it really helped"

"You're welcome" you don't acknowledge her theory. Turning around, you sit back down. Patchwork jeans made of scrap fabric from Hobie's own outfit uncomfortably scrape against your legs, feet bouncing anxiously. You want to get the show over with and rip your outfit off you. Blinking away tears at the thought of you repeating your final year just because of one (not so small) hiccup.

Watching as your classmates slowly filter out to the audience area to watch their creations walk down the runway, their partners staying behind to line up. You bravely stand up, breathing heavily. Draping the blazer on your shoulder, you make your way towards the line of models, already feeling out of place.

You hear Mrs. Williams announcing the start of the show. Tuning her out, you watch the double doors as if Hobie will miraculously appear behind it. Sniffing, you slyly try to wipe the tears that's been escaping from your eyes. Lining up at the far end, you hear the music starting, one by one they walk down the runway, loud cheers can be heard from the audience as their friends hype them up.

It was supposed to be a happy occasion for everyone, finally finishing the final year with a bang but your frown says otherwise, waiting like you're in line for the guillotine.

Wringing your hands nervously, you jump at the loud bang behind you, metal doors swinging, threatening to fall right off its hinges.

Your teary eyes widen at Hobie in all his glory, sporting the outfit you unceremoniously left on his doorstep.

The white shirt that you've painted to look like it has spray painted graffiti, barbed wire design on the collar, embroidered with silver thread. On top of it, he has a red blazer, matching yours. Numerous safety pins pinned on the lapel, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. The leather vest, the pièce de résistance sways in the gust of wind.

His leg halfway up from kicking the doors open. Ripped jeans in full display, lace peeking out from under the strategically placed rips. An asymmetrical half skirt made from red plaid fabric accentuates the outfit. To your surprise, he even added his own twist to it, wearing accessories that compliments your work. You find your own belt on his hips, belt buckle shining in the light. So that's where it went.

Hobie searches for you, chest heaving, looking like he ran a marathon just to get to the venue. His heart skips a beat when he finally spots you, lips parting in surprise at your clothes.

"Fuck me" he mumurs, glad he didn't yell the words out.

You stare at him flabbergasted, lips tugging into a smile. You don't have time to speak when Mrs. Williams announces your turn, saying Hobie's name instead of yours, like she has a sixth sense.

Hobie gives you a nod, conversing with him wordlessly, I've got this. Eyes staring intently at you as he passes through the curtains, loud roars and claps from the audience rings out. Peeking behind, you watch frozen as he walks like he owns the place, nonchalantly strutting the runway.

"Holy shit" You have no idea how someone can look a hundred times hotter than ever before. From where you're standing, you can see the giant spider you've stitched at the last minute on the back of his leather vest.

Hobie pauses for a second when he reaches the end of the runway, glaring at the photographer where everyone expected him to give a smolder. He turns around, determined to get back to your side.

You squeak when Hobie sees you peeking behind the curtains, Backing away, cherry earrings swinging wildly as you move. You stand alone in the middle of backstage, the place messy with discarded bags, scissors, threads and cloth.

Hobie ignores the cheering behind him, his eyes only on your form, face unreadable, taking long strides towards you. His heavy footfalls thump against the floor, acting like a countdown.

He moves as if a tether pulls him towards you.

Freezing in place, you have no idea what to do, whether to pull the loose thread or leave it completely. "Hobie, I–" he doesn't let you finish your sentence, crashing his lips to yours wordlessly. You hold your breath.

Teeth clashing to yours, Hobie holds your face with both hands, silver rings cold on your skin, afraid you'll disappear from his touch. His eyes tightly closed, he doesn't know whether it's adrenaline or the pressure of his affections for you, finally breaking the dam in one massive blast, pushing him to finally decide and kiss you. He lays his lips over yours, unmoving, waiting for you to reciprocate.

Your eyes are wide as saucers, hands floating right over his chest. Stomach in knots, heat rising to your cheeks. You're too surprised to kiss him back, he notices, pulling away. You see panic blooming on his face, breathing heavily against your lips.

"Fuck, I'm sorry" Hobie steps back, hurt written on his handsome face. Hands flying back to his sides.

"Shut the fuck up–" you quickly grab him by his vest's collar, pulling him with the same force he did, your lips meet his.

This time you kiss back, fervently. The thread is taut, snapping in the pressure.

His eyes widen for a second before he grabs the back of your neck, pulling you closer as humanly possible, his other hand holds yours that's gripping his vest tightly right above his hastening heart. He closes his eyes, savoring your lips. The idea of Unrequited love pops like a bubble in your mind, dissolving as he kisses you back.

Hobie's kisses match yours right to the beat, you pull him down by the scruff of his neck, legs tired from trying to reach him. He chuckles at your tenacity. The room filled with the sounds of your lips smacking against each other. The kiss is messy but steady, teeth gnashing, his lip piercing blocking you from feeling his entire lips, forcing you to tilt your head. The kiss was uncharted territory for the both of you but you're more than willing to explore it, you're sure Hobie feels the same, judging from how he moves with you in tandem, hand kneading at the soft skin of your nape.

Everything seems to click into place.

You don't want to pull away but your lungs are protesting against the lack of oxygen, Hobie feels like he could go on though. Reluctantly ending the kiss, you look at him breathlessly. Hobie has a growing grin on his kiss bitten lips, your lipgloss staining his.

Hobie swipes your lips with his thumb, cleaning the sheen he left on it, red staining his fingertip. "You alive in there?"

"You still have the gall to speak– after that?" You say through gulps of air.

He laughs deeply, pecking your lips once, twice, pausing for a second to admire your flustered face, he kisses again for the third time. He tries to stop again, this time you chase his lips before he could fully pull away.

Hobie chuckles deeply and full of endearment, you can feel his smile as you peck his lips.

Someone coughs loudly to get your attention, jumping away from his body, Hobie holds your hand firmly against him so that you don't fully leave his side. He glares at your professor, tapping her heeled foot impatiently.

"Whenever you're done, come outside and join the others we'll be announcing the top three" she raises a neat brow at you two, a rare smirk on her red lips.

The second she crosses the curtains, you give a knowing look at Hobie, laughing loudly. He lays his head on your shoulder, laughing with you.

"She caught us," you softly say in between laughs.

"And I'll do it again" he softly says against your soft blazer.

"Come on, let's not keep them waiting" you rub encouragingly at his arms.

He hums, leaving a quick peck on your lapel for good measure.

—

His familiar scent wafts on your right, calming your heart to a steadier beat. Hobie's arm is glued to your waist, hip to hip, holding you close. You can feel his lingering gaze on the side of your face, giving him a knowing side glance, a sly smile on your warm kiss bitten lips. For a moment you feel like you're the only two people in the crowd.

"What?" He asks coyly.

"You know what"

"Sure, Gromit" Hobie says against your hair, you playfully push him off with your hips, saving yourself from taking all the attention from your professor announcing the top three. Hobie chuckles, wrapping his arm tighter around your form, playing with the flowers on your top.

You can't seem to concentrate on what Mrs Williams is talking about, mind still reeling from the kiss and his touch. His fingers fiddling with the lace of your cami doesn't help with your attention span.

People start clapping around you, copying them to look like you're listening. By how your classmates stand side by side with their models on stage, Hannah beams in second place. You give her a big thumbs up.

While everyone claps for Flash in third, another classmate jumps excitedly to first place, hugging her partner in a tight embrace.

You don't even care that you didn't win, you've got a better prize right next to you.

"You were robbed, love" He whispers in your ear, the roaring crowd makes it difficult to hear him.

"I don't care, honestly," you say giddily.

"You won in my eyes anyway" Hobie nuzzles his cheek on your hair.

"C'mon" he tugs at your belt loop, leading you towards the exit. You follow, grinning widely.

"Excuse me! You in red!" Someone yells for you, looking over your shoulder, you see a tall man in an expensive looking suit, tailored just for him. "Yeah you, hi"

"Hello," you politely smile, "what can I do for you?"

"Yes, I'm a friend of your professor, Mrs. Williams. You caught my attention with your style and we would love you at our fashion house." He hands you a business card. "It's all in there, I'm sorry I don't have time to talk right now" on cue Mrs. Williams beckons him over, "but I'll be here on campus looking for new designers, so call and let me know. Or just ask Caroline– I mean Williams"

"Thanks, I'll look into it. Mr?" You read the card, recognizing the name of the brand. "Mr. Riley" finishing your sentence.

He nods with a smile, "oh, we're also looking for models, if you're interested–" Mr. Riley gestures towards Hobie who cuts him off before he could finish his spiel.

"Not interested" Hobie grits his teeth, impatiently tugging you away.

"Alrighty! Bye!" Riley looks terrified, walking away with a slouched posture.

"I think you scared him off" You playfully shove him.

"Don't care." He rolls his eyes "Where are we off to? Yours or mine?" Hobie fixes your cherry earrings to face the right side, warm fingers staying on the shell of your ear.

"Ours" you correct him, smiling widely, eyes full of fondness for the man right in front of you.

"Right," He mirrors your smile, beaming at you, "ours"

—

Hobie watches you through his side mirror, grinning from ear to ear at how you tightly wrap your arms around his waist. Your eyes closed in content, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

Hobie stops at a red light, he taps your hand curled around the other, getting your attention.

"Yeah?" You tilt your head to face him.

Hobie wishes he can rotate his head much further just to face you fully. "Checkin' to see if you're still with me. Thought you fell off"

"Bullshit, you would've noticed" you chuckle.

"You got me" he smiles, "hold on" Hobie feels a slight tug, looking up, the light turns green. His new found enhanced senses have perks.

The bike lurches forward, Hobie drives carefully, he has precious cargo after all. You notice, snuggling closer to his back as a thank you.

The wind nips at your face, Hobie makes sure to avoid potholes, slowing down before he hits speed humps. Holding your hand every time he stops at a red light.

Finally reaching home, Hobie gets off first before he helps you down. Hand reaching for yours.

"One kiss and you're suddenly a gentleman" you tease him, taking his hand in yours, palm hot against your cold one; melting the chill right off.

"Snog me more and you'll find out how much of a gentleman I can be" Hobie waits for your flustered face, instead he sees you smirk, a playful glint in your eyes.

"Oh I intend to find out" tapping his chest, you leave Hobie standing dumbfounded on the sidewalk, you step over to the houseboat. Laughing triumphantly.

"Fuckin' hell" he mumbles out, flexing his hand.

"Come on! I'm hungry!" You wave him over, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You can't believe the last time you were here you had your heart shattered, trying not to think about it, you intend to ask him without ruining the mood.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get pissy" Hobie unlocks the door, opening it for you to step inside.

There's tools and mechanical parts on what looks like a new coffee table, stopping in your tracks, you look at Hobie in confusion.

"Huh?"

"What?" He scratches at the back of his neck, looking at you through narrowed eyes, daring you to ask.

"Are you making a robot or something?" You dare ask.

"No, just tryin' to fix my answering machine" he huffs, picking up fallen tiny jagged edged pieces so you don't accidentally step on them.

Unlacing your boots, you take in your surroundings, taking note of the difference since you were last in his houseboat. The door to his bedroom is missing, the wooden floors looked like it was scrubbed till it's nothing but splinters, leaving marks on the wood, the once rickety table now a pile of mess on the corner.

"Should I even ask?" You raise a curious brow.

"Ask" Hobie gestures for you to go on.

"What the fuck happened here? It looks like a tornado wrecked the place. And where's your bloody door?!" You walk towards his room to find sheets thrown about, bed littered with the same metal parts and various sizes of screwdrivers. He's clearly obsessing over his machine.

Hobie sighs, he has no idea how to explain it to you, so he doesn't try. He decides to just lie about it, for now at least. You wouldn't even believe him, right?

"Found out why this place was so cheap" he internally apologizes to Finn for throwing him under the bus. "The door has rotten hinges, faucet's fucked, sprayed water all over the bloody place, that's why the floor looks like that. I slipped and fell to that table, almost broke my hip"

"Oh" you exhale, trying to get the words out. "When was this?" You put two and two together, yet you still ask.

Hobie notices your change in mood, taking a few steps closer to you after he drops the metal objects on the coffee table. He starts the difficult conversation for you. "When you ran" he tries not to make you feel guilty, "it was a misunderstanding, love"

"Shit," you close your eyes as if you're in pain.

"No one was here, it was the damn answering machine goin' haywire." Continuing his explanation, Hobie raises his arms to you, waiting for you to move on your accord, careful not to have a repeat scenario. "No one was here, yeah?"

"I'm a fucking Idiot" you move to embrace him, "'m sorry" sniffing, voice thick with guilt, you hold him closer. "I should've waited–"

"None of that from you. We're both bloody idiots for taking this long" he softly says near your ear, breath fanning over your skin, calming you down.

"I just thought…after the museum–"

"I know," he pulls away, cupping your face in his hand, "you should've seen me in here. It was like some looney tunes shit"

"Oh, I would pay good money to see that" you lean into his touch. After a beat you continue. "I'm sorry you had a shitty morning, then I had to add to it"

"Stop," Hobie shakes you in his arms, "let me get this straight with you, more direct, yeah?" You nod, waiting for him to continue. "You're it for me, no one else matters" your eyes get glassy, "That voice?" He points at the damned answering machine, laying open on the settee. "Absolutely do not care for her. She's just a friend of the band, nothin' more" He makes good on his own promise, committing to it.

"I saw her on you before the concert" you say in a small voice. "I was…" shaking your head, you spot Terry perched on the floor of his bedroom. It would be easy for you to grab him to help find your words but you don't. Bravely choosing to stay in his arms. "Hurt, I know I didn't have the right to be. But…I don't fucking know" frustrated, you thump your head on his chest.

"I know," he understands, embracing you tighter, trying to absorb your pain so that you don't feel it anymore, for your sake. "I'm sorry" Hobie apologizes, voice muffled by your hair. "Sorry" he says much clearer this time, exhaling a shaky breath.

Hobie apologizes for everything, from entertaining Lacey to taking this long to say how he truly feels for you and everything in between. His hand lays comfortably on your back, rubbing softly. You feel at home in his arms.

You don't know what he's apologizing for since you think it's your own fault, but you still accept, not knowing how to ask him. Instead, you savor his warmth, leather scratching your cheeks.

After a few seconds, you pull away, hands holding his face like a fine jewel. You take a few breaths, admiring his face, tracing the lines on his skin, you want to wipe all the worry off his face. Hobie closes his eyes, heartbeat syncing with yours.

He opens his eyes, staring at you like you're the moon in the night sky, out of reach but mesmerizing nonetheless.

"You hungry?" Hobie clears his throat, pulling away. He kisses your knuckles before he heads to the kitchen, no idea that he just stopped you from saying your piece.

You stand in the middle of his room, lips pouting. "I was gonna kiss you, you absolute knobhead"

Hobie stops in his tracks, he plays along, hands on his hips, acting exasperated. "That right?"

"Don't make me beg" you frown, actually serious.

He chuckles at your cute expression, "I just thought you were hungry, can't let my girl starve"

My girl, you're done for. Your breath hitches in your throat, skin on fire. "I am hungry" you sigh, surrendering, you'll get that kiss after dinner even if it kills you. Your Index finger scratches at your nail polish painted on your thumb nail, shyness creeping back again.

Hobie bites his lip, also yearning to give you what you really want. He reels himself in, opening the fridge, cold wafts onto his hot skin. His eyes leave your face for a moment.

"Fuck" he finds it empty besides some bottled water and a half eaten burger.

"Christ, you live like this?" You suddenly appear by his side, grimacing at the bare fridge. "Looks like you need a roommate to keep you in check, huh?" You take a personal mission to rile him up again just to see his rare bewildered face even if for only a split second.

"D'you know anyone available?" He takes on your challenge, standing to his full height, he faces you, closing the fridge door with his foot.

"I think I know someone" you smile prettily at him, making grabby hands over to him.

"If I give you a bloody kiss will you buy us a shawarma?" Hobie steps in your arms, you immediately wrap yourself around his waist.

"Let's just say I'll make it worth your while" looking up at him, your lips curling into a teasing smirk.

"Look how far I've fallen, the things I have to do just so I don't starve" he holds your chin, fingers warm on your already searing skin. Leaning closer to your face.

"You ass!" You laugh, pinching his abdomen, finding a wall of muscle underneath his shirt. Huh, that's new, you thought. Pulling away, you narrow your eyes at Hobie. "Feels like you are starving"

"Hmm?"

"You got leaner, we're definitely ordering extra rice for you" Hobie gives you a thankful peck on the cheek, already on his way to grab the utensils.

—

Metal scraping on ceramic, you run the dirty plates on the sink as Hobie wipes down his new coffee table. You feel eyes on your back, looking over your shoulder, he watches you, eyes full of endearment.

"I'm almost done, Hobs. Need to at least run it with water or it'll stink in the morning" you beam back, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Hobie's heart swells at the domesticity of it all, imagining the house with traces of you in it. He could put your sewing machine in the corner near the window so you could get proper light. He imagines your shampoo side by side with his bottle in the small shower, favourite Mug next to his chipped ones. Your perfume lingering in the air, staying with him wherever he goes.

"Love" he says quietly like a secret to be kept between you. You hum in acknowledgement, rinsing the cups.

He calls your name this time, not love, not Gromit or Cherry, your name. He says it with so much love laced in it you forgot that it's yours for a second.

You turn off the faucet, splashing your hands on the sink. Turning around, you give him a soft smile. "Yeah?"

Hobie pats the cushion next to him, "C'mere" you don't miss a beat, already walking towards the settee. "I can do that tomorrow" he holds his arms towards you.

You place yourself in his hold, enveloping you like warm sunlight. Sitting in comfortable silence, ignoring how the lumpy couch pokes your legs.

"I saw you by the way" you break the silence. He moves his head on top of yours, making a point that he's listening. "In the parking lot, a few days ago"

"Why didn't you say anythin'?" Hobie doesn't sound angry, just forlorn at the thought of you intentionally ignoring him.

"I didn't know what to say" you finally look at him, eyes as big as the plates you were rinsing. "Then Peter came up to me–I," you exhale, "I'm a coward, Hobie. I should've at least tried to talk to you"

"Honestly, I didn't know what I was gonna say to you that day" He rubs a stray eyelash from your cheek. "I wouldn't know what would've happened if we did talk"

"Sorry for not answering your calls and barring you from my dorm" you apologize again, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Don't be," he kisses the crown of your head, assuring you.

"If it's any consolation…" you sniff, tamping down the tears threatening to spill. "Peter found out that the spider that bit you wasn't a regular one"

"What?"

"Yeah, he's a biology major, really likes spiders for some reason. Met him through an old study group. Anyway, he said it was some kind of mix? Not sure, but he practically gushed about it" you play with the lace on his pants while you ramble.

"Did he elaborate?" Hobie's fully invested, any clues to what's rushing in his veins right now is very much appreciated.

"The thing is, he didn't know what mix it was or how that sort of thing could happen. He called it a freak of nature" you chuckle. "You're fine though, right? You didn't feel weird or anything?" Rubbing his arm in concern, brows knitting together.

"It got a bit itchy but that's it" it hurts him to lie to you, but even Hobie himself doesn't completely know what's happening to his body. Just to be safe, he won't tell you, until he can figure it out at least.

"Okay, good" You lay your head back down on his chest with the intention to finally tell him how you truly feel for him. "Hobie, I–"

"You look good by the way– shit sorry go on" he accidentally cuts you off.

"No, you were complimenting me so please go on" your lips curl into a mischievous smile. Staring at him head on.

Hobie scoffs, rolling his eyes, smiling through it all. "I said you look bloody fit" he eyes your outfit a few seconds longer than he intended.

"You look really handsome," you turn his compliment around, "like holy shit, mate. It's unfair how good you looked on the runway"

"Mate? You havin' a laugh? Who you callin' mate?" He pokes your waist. "I just confessed my undying love for you and you're out here callin' me 'mate'?" Your giggling stops when he says that word.

"You love me?" You ask, face serious. Your pulse beats rapidly, palms sweaty.

"Yeah, too much I think" Too much for you. He thinks, afraid of stifling you with his love. He tried to play it off. Hobie doesn't throw that word around loosely but he has said it in his mind to you a thousand times before, it feels routine by now.

"I don't think it's too much" your eyes are starting to get glossy again. "I think it's the right amount"

You suddenly feel anxious saying it back, yet it's Hobie, your Hobie who taught you how to tie your shoelaces properly so that other kids won't make fun of your velcro trainers. Hobie who was there for you when you had your heart broken for the first time. Hobie who you came to love more with every passing year with him. Your Hobie.

"You don't have to say it back" He says with a small smile, voice thick, "won't force you–"

"You're a fucking idiot, Hobart Brown" you say, clinging to his shirt that you've lovingly made just for him, every stitch you've poured in has love written all over it. "And I love you too"

You lean in, eyes closed, hands placed fondly on his cheeks. This time, you're the one who takes his breath away. Hobie sighs into the kiss, content, feeling your emotions through it all.

This one felt more proper, more familiar than the first one, made sweeter with the love confession. No rushing, no one finally interrupting the moment, and yet still slightly unfamiliar, good thing you have a willing partner to get familiar with. Getting used to the kiss, you swipe your tongue, encouraging him to not hold back.

He kisses back fervently, warm and slow with no ounce of urgency. Hobie's stomach is in knots, hands flying to cup your face.

You move your leg over to his lap, straddling him. Hobie lets out a sound from the back of his throat as his shoulder blade hits the armrest of the sofa.

Pulling away, "Is this okay?" You tentatively ask, waiting for any signs of apprehension from Hobie.

"Yes" He says breathlessly, you can see stars in his eyes. Smiling, leaning down to continue kissing him.

Strong hands steadying you, yet still holding you respectfully, avoiding the bare skin where your blouse rode up. Electricity tingles from Hobie's fingertips, shocking you slightly through your blouse, you take it as your nerves acting up.

You feel a tear escape, it slides down on your cheek, landing directly on Hobie's thumb that's been caressing your skin. He pulls back, worried.

"I'm okay" you say, breathless, eyes roaming his concerned face. Another tear rolls down on your soft skin, "they're happy tears," smiling, more tears flow out of your eyes that's crinkling in the corners.

Hobie looks up at you with so much love, your heart inflates tenfold. He has a lopsided smile, eyes mirroring yours.

"Stay with me tonight?" He wipes your tears for you, careful with his rings.

Your eyes narrow at him teasingly, mustering your best flirty smile, brows wiggling, you wordlessly have a conversation with Hobie.

"Fuck off" He laughs breathlessly, "I didn't mean it like that" you felt the vibration on his chest when he laughed, laying down fully on him, eyes practically shaped like hearts, you follow through with your own laugh.

"I've never thought confessing would be so tiring" you joke, yawning for effect.

it's contagious, he follows your yawn with his own. "It's because we've been doing a lot of snogging"

"Mm-hmm, it's definitely better than exercise. More fun too"

"Wanna exercise again?" He rolls his dice.

"I could burn some calories" You play along, giggling against his waiting lips. Hobie rolls a perfect twenty.

A/N: LET'S GOOOOOO 🎉

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it, reblogging encourages me to write more ❤️

SHE'S LITERALLY ME

Wendell & Wild (2022)

Bad things happen to people I’m close to... They die.

˖🎸 ༘ ⋆˚₊⊹ his muse

hobie brown x fem!reader

this has been in my drafts for. forever. like it was summer when i wrote it on a whim. this initially started as a request for hobie with a reader that came from wealth. the vivienne westwood imagery picked up from there, and i just kinda had fun with it. and now im posting it- huzzah!

warnings: smoking (cigarettes). mentions of drinking. slight nsfw at the very end. meet-cute that leads to smut. hobie being a flirt. fem!reader.

hobie is in the midst of a creative rut that he can’t get out of, no matter how much he tries to. that is, until some inspiration walks through the door.

hobie was in a musical rut.

which never happened to him. never. if he needed a subject for a song, all he had to do was look outside for five minutes or watching the news for even less to have a subject.

that was the wonderful thing about hating the establishment: infinite cruelty, infinite song ideas.

but here he was, staring down at his guitar and picking at strings aimlessly. nothing came to him, no note or melody stuck out to him as song worthy.

he was sitting on the worn couch in his band’s makeshift studio, crosslegged and hunched over his guitar like a madman.

a soft knock came from the doorway, and he looked up to find one of his band mates hitting their knuckles against the doorway.

“you need to get out, man. you’re cooped up.” he said, stepping into the room to stand over hobie like a mother hen. “some fresh air will do you good.”

hobie scoffed, never one to take orders from anyone. but then he exhaled and leaned back, looking up at his friend with an exasperated expression.

“and where exactly do you intend for us to go?” he asked lowly, grumbling.

that’s exactly how he ended up here, in a music club full of bodies he didn’t want to touch and liquor he didn’t want to drink.

it wasn’t a traditional club scene by any means. It was a bit more artistic, leaning away from rave-style places that he’d gone to before. but it still wasn’t his preferred place.

he nursed a shirley temple, which his friend had shoved into his hand unceremoniously before disappearing into the crowd. hobie had decided that he would be the designated driver, and he understood that his band mates were going to take full advantage of that fact.

when they entered the place, his drummer had leaned over.

“maybe you’ll find a muse, hobes. i’m sure there’s plenty of pretty things in this place to give you ideas.” the boy wiggled his brows, and hobie promptly shoved him away with a chuckle.

now, he leaned against a counter and wondered what the hell he was doing. this wasn’t air. this was just distracting noise.

and said noise was becoming a little too much for his senses.

he made eye contact with one of his more sober mates, gesturing that he was going to go somewhere private. he sent a text to their group chat as well saying the same thing.

not a role model

-> heading to the back, text or call if you need me

little drummer boy

-> you’re no fun, man.

not a role model

-> 🖕🏿

he moved down a hallway, the sound of bass and electronic beats fading into a pleasant jazz sound that made its way through the speakers overhead.

the space behind the actual club was a kind of lounge, filled with warm ambiance and vinyl records and leather arm chairs. when his friends brought him here, he always inevitably retreated to this quieter space.

it was ironic really. the punk unable to handle crowds and noise. but this was a much different setting from his own shows, so he cut himself some slack.

he sunk into one of the armchairs in a side room, his head lolling back to look up at the ceiling. his head slightly throbbed, and he began to regret not drinking water.

he reached in his pocket to pull out a cigarette box.

he wasn’t a casual smoker, not by a long shot. it just helped to have something to drag on sometimes, something to burn his throat while he was thinking.

right as he put the cig to his lips, the door banged open and slammed shut once more, the lock sliding home.

his spider-senses told him to prepare, but when he looked up they stopped buzzing.

because a girl leaned against the wall across from him, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

she looked afraid, scared. the way her fingers trembled alerted him to the sheer amount of adrenaline running through her veins currently.

and she hadn’t even noticed him yet. he took a moment to glance over her.

she wore a pretty little lace dress, black and short, with straps that barely cling to her shoulders. his eyes drifted down her bare legs to the black platform gogo boots on her feet, and he was impressed with the height she was balancing on. he knew from experience that those shits weren’t easy to master.

he had been a model once, and he knew enough to see that the girls clothes were expensive. like, wearing his rent expensive.

she took an anxious step, only to wobble like a baby deer, legs too long to stand properly.

maybe not so stable after all.

when she still didn’t notice him (too busy listening to the door), he opened his mouth to make himself known.

“runnin’ from something, little fawn?”

her eyes snapped to him, and she jumped slightly when she realized that someone else was in the room with her. her wide doe eyes did nothing to help disapprove the nickname. she opened and closed her mouth to speak, struggling to get the words out.

“i’m not running.”

he chuckled.

“no? do ya’ slam and lock doors at clubs often then?”

she scoffed at him, rolling her eyes. she took a step away from the door, though he could tell she was keeping track of any noise.

“i’m just…catching my breath.” she said, pulling at the necklace around her throat.

hobie’s eyes drifted down to it, surprised to find a string of pearls with an all too familiar saturn pendent.

his curiosity got the best of him. “real or fake?”

her eyes darted up to meet his, and she looked away in embarrassment as she said “real.”

he let out an impressed whistle. “that’s why you’re running.” he mumbled as the pieces clicked together.

she gave him an incredulous look, eyebrows furrowing in a way that he found adorable.

“my guess” he said as he stood from the chair, taking a step towards the girl. “is that you definitely aren’t supposed to be here. rich girl, pretty dress, innocent look. this place is practically forbidden for your like.”

her gaze hardened into a glare. “and what exactly is my like, hobie brown?”

he smirked. “you know my name.”

a statement. she deflated slightly.

“i’ve been to your shows.” she said, voice lowering. it was just enough to make him realize how close they were. he registered her body language quickly, noting how she didn’t shy away. so he didn’t either.

“interestin’, doll. does your daddy know?”

“don’t condescend me.”

he took a step back then, raising his hand in an ‘i come in peace’ gesture. “easy there. just askin.”

he went to grab a lighter to light his cigarette, reaching down into his jackets pocket. when he found nothing, he groaned softly.

a click made him look up, only to be met with the girl holding up a lighter of her own. he leaned forward to light his cigarette, and she held his gaze as the sizzling sound breiflu filled their silence.

“as you can see” she said softly. “i am not quite ‘my like’.”

he let out a puff of smoke, making sure to turn his head so that it didn’t flow into her pretty face. she coughed anyway.

he chucked. “what you doin’ with a light if you don’t smoke?”

she flipped the lighter in her hand, and it took a moment to notice that it was one of the silver heart ones that were popular.

“you like vivienne, huh?” he said, looking down at her with half lidded eyes as he took another drag.

“what can i say, i have a thing for punks.” she replied, looking up at him through her lashes.

oh, he was going to eat her.

“s’that so?” he asked, wanting to drag whatever admission she was holding in. he leaned close over her, and she stretched her neck to look right up at him. this close, he could smell whatever shampoo she used.

she was off limits. but he never really abided by rules, did he?

“what’re you runnin’ from, doll?” he asked, tapping his cigarette out as he waited for an answer.

“my father sent a body guard out to find me. i snuck out, and the man’s in the club right now.” she said, watching the way his lips curled around the cigarette.

the air kicked on, and the girl below him shivered. he shrugged off his jacket with a sigh, pulling it around her. she accepted it gratefully, practically nuzzling up against the collar.

fuck, he was a goner.

“better get you out of here, then.” he said, using the edges of his jacket to tug her closer. she smirked, allowing him to pull her against his body. “that would be great.”

he leaned down as he texted the chat, brushing his lips against the top of her ear as he typed.

not a role model

-> hey, i got someone i need to take home. anyone sober?

little drummer boy

-> the fuck are you on about, why would anyone be sober.

fresh meat

-> i am, go enjoy yourself hobes.

thank god for tyler, he thought as he pulled back the collar of his jacket to press his mouth to the girls jaw.

as she snuck him into her room later, the lyrics of a song began to write themselves in his head.

and as he thrust into her, her hands fumbling against her silk sheets and her moans in his ear, he realized that he had found his muse after all.

Threadbare

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.5k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for their clothing), CW panic attack, injury mention, insecurity, food mention, R has nicknames, angst, fluff.

Main Masterlist

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

Your feet hurt, toes aching inside your chucks. You should've worn something comfier. Raising your tired legs a few inches away from the concrete, thinking the elevated position might help with relieving your strained muscles. You sit dejected near the river, disappointed that you couldn't find a flat for Hobie. Your back aches from the not so comfortable metal bench. Your lashes flutter against the cold gust of wind, making you hug your coat tighter around your torso.

Hobie plops next to you, a water bottle in hand. He groaned when he finally got to sit after hours of standing and walking around.

He raises a curious brow "what are you doing? Are you about to take a dive in the river or somethin'?" Hobie points at your lifted legs.

"My feet hurt" you hold your hand out towards the bottle, he hands it to you wordlessly. "Thanks, you drank?" Shaking the half full bottle, Hobie leans against the back of the bench, head lolling off the edge, his long arms spread out over the back of the bench.

"Yeah" he sighs, eyes closed, the sun's rays hitting his face, painting him in a heavenly light.

Taking a sip of water, you glance at him, his loose tank top peeking from under his leather jacket, clavicle on full display. You almost choke on water when you see his adam's apple bop up and down. You cough harshly, Hobie perks up, patting your back as you cover your mouth with your hand, heat on your cheeks.

"The fuck happened?" He asks, half concerned, half teasing.

You happened, you wanted to say, coughing louder, Hobie sits up, still patting your back.

"Maybe you should drink some water," Hobie smirks.

"Funny" you say in between coughs, tears in your eyes. You inhale and exhale, your coughing fit stops almost immediately. You sniff, murmuring a small *goddamnit.

Hobie cups your cheek, wiping at the stray tear that managed to escape your eye. "Maybe someone was thinking of you, that's why you choked" me, it was me, I was thinking of you. He almost blurted out.

You lean into his touch before he takes his warm hand back. "Why in the world would they be thinking of me?" You look at your watch, "at three pm on a sunday of all days?"

"Why wouldn't anyone think of you?" He manages to blurt this one out, his eyes widening for a second, you look at him dumbfounded, hope blossoming in your chest. "you probably owe them money" he plays his first comment off, managing to stay cool even though he was slightly panicking. Your shoulders slump in disappointment, deciding to just ignore the first sentence.

"Shit, you're right I think I still owe Ned twenty pounds. Remind me to pay him before he leaves for Richmond" you lightly push him with your shoulder.

"Sure, I'll definitely remember that" Hobie sarcastically says.

You sigh, staring into the water, you watch as a boat sails by. Hobie notices your drop in mood when you mentioned Ned, he sometimes forgets you're also friends with him, knowing him for years now.

"Gromit, he'll be fine, yeah? He's all grown up, we taught him a lot" He taps your foot with his. You look at him, a frown on your lips.

"You make it sound like he's our kid, and he's leaving the nest"

"Weird way to put it, love" A smile slowly growing on his lips.

"Shut up, you started that weird comparison first, I'm just imitating you" you chuckle, you smile slowly fading away "it's just that–" you look at him, staring and waiting. You wish you brought Terry with you, you find that speaking through him is much easier. "It's nothing"

"Nah, you can tell me." He inches closer to you, the back of his hand on his leg, palm waiting for you.

You gaze down at his hand, fingers itching to hold him, "He's been with you for a long time, Hobs. Even though you've moved from band to band, he's always been your bassist, *always"

"People will always move on. Can't do anything to stop them, sometimes you just gotta wish 'em well" he ducks his head to meet your downturned gaze. "We can always visit him, Richmond's only an hour away"

"That's not what I meant, Hobie" you finally reach for his hand, squeezing it.

"I know what you mean" He holds your hand like it's the most precious thing in the world. "We can't stop their progress just because we don't want them to leave" he squeezes your hand. "People will leave, I've accepted that a long time ago"

"And yet I'm still here" you move closer to him, leg right next to his jean covered ones.

"And yet you're still here" Hobie chuckles despite this, he's never been more afraid of the possibility of having the same conversation with you except you'll be the one leaving him.

You grin at him, lacing your fingers together with his, afraid of letting him go. He sticks to you like a web, pulling you towards his chest, a warm hand on your nape. You cling to him like a spider would, arms enveloping him completely, you both feel the same thing, Home.

Electricity passes through you when Hobie presses a featherlight kiss over the crown of your head, as fast as it comes down it fades mere seconds later when Hobie pulls away from you, hand staying a few seconds longer on your head.

You sniff, blinking away the tears gathering in your eyes. "We still haven't found you a place. Maybe I could hide you in my dorm until we find one?"

"Your RA's a bloodhound, I'm sure she can sniff me out the second I get there" He acts nonchalantly, a comforting arm over your shoulder. You lean back into his arm, his knuckles brushing over your coat. "We've got plenty of time, deadline to leave isn't until after your show, so we're still good"

"Maybe the last place we looked at isn't too bad?"

"Their bathroom had stairs leading down towards the shower, the place is a bloody deathtrap" he scoffs.

"Yeah, I guess slipping and falling on your ass isn't so punk of you" you try to use reverse psychology on Hobie.

"That's not gonna work," a small canal boat floats idly right in front of the bench, "besides they don't allow pets"

"You don't even have a pet" the boat honks loudly, you two ignore it.

"How are you gonna visit me then?" Hobie smirks playfully.

You jab him on his chest with your finger, "Dickhead"

"You got a new insult? Just call me a wanker next time" He pinches your arm, you yelp, poking him some more.

"You wanker" you jokingly glare at him, he finds it adorable, resisting the urge to peck the smirk off of your lips.

He goofily smiles at you, "There you go" his words dripping in fondness.

The boat honks longer and loudly, interrupting your banter. Hobie glares at the intrusion, a middle aged man waves at you two from the boat.

"Boat!" He yells out when he finally gets your attention, pointing enthusiastically at his boat. You look at him confused.

Hobie answers for you, "yeah mate, we can see that" he yells, "good for you!" He turns back to you but the man replies, stopping Hobie from continuing your conversation.

The unnamed man shakes his head, "No! Boat for sale!" He says in an accent you can't quite pinpoint.

Hobie's hand sits heavily on your shoulder, but you don't mind, finding it comforting especially after your emotional talk.

"It's a houseboat!" He points at you both "maybe couple interested? It's very cheap!"

"What are we gonna do with a houseboat?" You whisper to Hobie, he looks like he's contemplating. "Hobs?"

"How much?" He yells towards the man.

"Hobie!" You hold his arm, stopping him from going near the boat, "He seems shady" you whisper.

"He seems cool," Hobie shrugs. "Besides, he said it's cheap, better than having stairs in the bathroom." He moves near the water, you barely make out what they're saying, too concerned that you might get murdered on a houseboat of all places.

—

You stay with Hobie inside the Houseboat, it looks worn out but at least there's no holes in it. The floorboards creak with every move of your feet, and the faucet leaks, the sound annoying you with every drip drop of water on the sink. Standing close to Hobie, you hold onto the sleeve of his jacket, eyes wide awake for any danger, making sure you two don't end up on the nightly news.

The houseboat is smaller than the flats you've looked at hours ago, it has a cozy feel to it, from the narra floors to the adorable navy blue kitchenette. Despite it looking a little worn down, you know it's been well loved, with every scratch and indents on the wooden floor, the chipping paint revealing a different color behind it, they all have history, if only walls could talk. Even with all its flaws, the boat looks taken care of, no bugs eating away at its foundation, no rust on the metal finishings, and best of all no water damage in its interior. This could work.

"You can pay it off in installments" the man, you've now learned, is named Finn. He didn't miss the irony of his name, a man named Finn living in a boat, he made a joke about it earlier that you politely laughed at. Finn continues his sales talk with Hobie.

Maybe it's fate, meeting Finn. You don't think you can handle another go at flat hunting, your feet ache just from the thought of it.

He leads you two to the master's bedroom, big enough for a queen's size bed, and a simple cabinet. There's a small window on the side, the late afternoon sun filters through the opening.

"See?" He walks around the room "big enough for the two of you! Your girl will like the cabinet space" he smiles, his thick beard moving when he talks.

You don't correct him, you don't blame the man especially with how you're clinging on to Hobie. You stare at the peeling paint on the walls, there's a dust bunny on the corner of the floor.

Hobie doesn't chide in, listening intently to Finn's sales talk.

"And look! A bedroom with a view, eh?" He gestures towards the small window like he's presenting on stage. "And listen," He knocks on the walls, "Thick walls for a houseboat, perfect for privacy, eh?" He points to you both.

You look at Hobie, stifling a laugh. He stares back at you with a smirk over his lips. Oh not again.

"You sure 'bout that, mate?" He loops his arm over to your waist, rolling your eyes so far back you're sure you could see your brain. He bites back another quip, just in case it might make you uncomfortable.

"Yes! I'll go outside, and you scream as loud as you can, I'll tell you if I can hear you" he skedaddles out of the room, "be right back!" He leaves the boat completely.

"What if he's calling his friends to help murder us?" You ask actually concerned.

"Y/N," he clicks his tongue, "don't judge a book by its cover, besides you got me to protect you"

"You and those skinny arms of yours? We're both dead, Hobs"

You jump when Finn yells through the open window, "These walls are also perfect for when it rains, you can barely hear it!" He says with a huge smile, you think he's actually excited to show you how sound-proofed the place is. "Close the window then you scream, yes?"

Hobie takes a few steps to reach the window closing the glass, for added effect he also closes the curtains, blocking Finn off.

"He could lie and say he didn't hear us" you say, arms over your chest.

Without warning, Hobie yells loudly, you quickly put your hands over your ears. "You ass!" You yell back.

Hobie laughs from his stomach, taking your hands off your ears. You glare at him.

"Don't you dare yell again, I swear, Hobie you almost blew out my eardrums"

"I don't think you need ear drums in the fashion industry" he's still holding your hands, his rings cold against your palms.

"Well I need it" you hear a knocking from the other side of the window. Hobie releases your hands to open it, Finn's smiling face looks back at you. You think Hobie's right, you shouldn't have judged the man so quickly, he's genuinely a jolly person. His huge arms don't help though, the man could strangle you both without breaking a sweat.

"See? I didn't hear a thing!" He taps the shell of his ear, "no interruptions for you two" he laughs, his guffaw reminds you of Santa's laugh.

"Alright bruv, let me talk it out with her, give us a few minutes, yeah?"

"Of course, I'll be outside. I won't be able to hear anything here anyway!" He chuckles, closing the window shut.

You knit your brows, confused. Hobie saunters towards you, hands on his hip. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?" You blink, surprised.

"Yeah, sure the place needs some polishing" he looks at the bright lime green walls of the bedroom, grimacing. "And a coat of paint. It'll be home by then, not to mention this place only costs a year worth of rent. And there's no stairs inside the bathroom"

"And no carpeted floors in the kitchen." You mention one of the places you looked at earlier in the day, "why do you need my input? It's your place"

"Because there's a second bedroom here" your heart skips a beat at what he's implying, smiling bashfully at Hobie. "There's enough space for us both, you could put your sewing machine over there," he points at a corner in the small living room. "Y'know, after you graduate, if you want to" he looks anywhere else except your face.

"Do you want me to?" You say slowly, making sure what you heard from him is real and not what you've imagined in your head several times before.

" 'course, you're my best mate, why wouldn't I want to"

"O-Oh" you try to say it with less sadness in your voice. He is your best friend, why do you sound so dejected at the title?

"There's no asshole landlord that's for sure, just us" he steps closer to you, trying to convince you more, his hand reaching out towards your elbow.

"Yeah, well technically you'll be my landlord" you tease him, playing with a loose thread from the hem of his tank top.

"Fuck off, don't call me that" He scoffs, rolling his eyes at you, "we'll talk about it after you graduate, yeah?" Hobie's thumb traces circles on your elbow.

"Okay. If you really like this place, you should get it" you nod with approval.

"Do you have the card on you?"

"What for?"

"Well, who's gonna help me fix up this place?" A smile curling on his lips.

"Goddamnit, Hobs" you take out the card from your pocket, handing it to him with a huff. "You only have eight left by the way" you would've helped him anyway, if only you weren't so busy with the project you would've given this one for free.

"I know how to count" He punches out a logo, it floats down on the wooden floors that definitely need some polishing. He gives it back to you "c'mon let's not keep the big man waiting, he might start to think we're snogging in here"

"He won't hear us anyway" throwing away your comment, you walk out of the room, acting nonchalant, your hand shakes slightly when you push open the creaky door. Hobie never anticipated that you would say something like that, he stands in the middle of the barren room, dumbfounded.

Hobie follows you after he collects himself. You walk outside, finally breathing in the cool air, you felt stuffy when you were inside. You look at the water while Hobie negotiates with Finn, they've been talking for a while now, so you decided to occupy yourself. A wave hits the side of the boat, almost throwing you overboard if not for you holding onto the sides.

"You alright there, little lady?" Finn asks. Hobie looks over his shoulder, seeing you hold the side with an iron grip. He quickly makes his way over to you, hands already moving you away from the edge.

"Fuckin' hell, I leave you for one minute" he grumbles.

"I'm okay, jeez dad" Hobie walks you back to Finn, Hand securely on your waist.

"You two are adorable! You remind me of my partner and I when we were younger" Finn sighs longingly.

"Is that why you're selling the boat?" You wince at the question you blurted out, "sorry, not my business"

"It's okay, I like talking about him. We're moving back to Amsterdam so I had to sell the boat. We've lived here for fifteen happy years, hope it's the same for you both" He sounded so genuine, a happy smile on his face the entire time he was talking to you. You don't have the heart to correct him on your relationship with Hobie.

You nod, smiling shyly. "That's really sweet of you, thank you, Finn"

"Thanks, mate. Appreciate you" Hobie shakes Finn's hand, sealing the deal.

"I'll send you the papers" Finn's grin turns melancholy, "never thought I'd ever sell this place, take care of her for me, would you?"

"She's in good hands" Hobie lets go of Finn's hand.

"And you two better take good care of eachother," he winks at you both.

—

You sit in front of your sewing machine, it thumps loudly inside your small dorm room, your mannequin is full of different shades of plaid cloth pinned on its sides, you sigh, blinking away the stress and fatigue.

Glancing at your final design, you scowl at it, despite it looking like a carbon copy of Hobie. You can't figure out what's missing in the outfit, you've added a bit more of you in it, but it still doesn't feel like you.

Your mind is cluttered and it shows in your surroundings. Your sketchpad is full of sketches of Hobie, the corkboard in front of you is littered with punk fashion references, polaroids of you and Hobie together, patches, pins and fabric samples. The loud sound of the machine makes your ears twitch, the needle going in and out of the piece you're sewing into.

Someone knocks loudly from the other side of your paper thin walls for the third time that night, they yell at you to keep it down, but you don't stop, have to finish this, you grit your teeth, grip loosening on the fabric, on your peripheral you can see a picture of Hobie smiling at you, clack, clack, your machine whirs. Knock, knock, the knocking persists. Your ears ring, licking your chapped lips, you keep forgetting to exhale. Mrs. Williams' grating voice echoes in your head, or you won't graduate. Ned's voice overlapping with hers, sorry, y/n. On top of all the noise, you try to focus on Hobie's familiar tone, got you, don't worry. You feel the walls closing in on you.

"Shut the fuck up!" Your neighbor knocks loudly, almost toppling over your corkboard.

You almost slip your thumb over the needle, if not for your reflexes your finger would've been a part of the pants you're sewing. Your eyes are blown out, breathing heavily. You're suddenly overwhelmed by everything, your jumper scratches at your skin, toes curling in the cold despite your fluffy socks covering them. A sob escapes you, you dampen it with your hand over your mouth. Shutting your eyes tightly closed, you focus on your breathing, legs involuntarily shaking, tears rolling over your hand. Your heart drums loudly in your chest, as if it could jump out at any second.

It's getting hard to breathe, you feel sick.

Weathering it out for what feels like an eternity, You finally let it all out of your system, chest hurting from the suppressed crying, your eyes are red. You've grown more tired, heaving from the lack of air. You notice the sudden silence, it almost gets you again, tears pricking in your eyes, threatening to spill out.

Coming down from it, you sniff, using your sleeve to clean your tear stained cheeks. You exhale, clearing your throat. Taking the half finished pants from under the sewing machine, cutting off the thread and then grabbing a spare needle from your kit. Your hands are shaking trying to insert the thread inside the tiny hole. Frustrated, you fling the needle and thread over your messy table. The metal clatters on the wooden table.

The mixture of different emotions swirl inside your stomach, wanting to vomit it out, or better yet, grab it by the neck and toss it as far away as you can.

You want to give up. Shaking your head, getting rid of the horrible thought, you can't give up, you have to keep going, you've made it this far, you're almost at the finish line. Thinking of Hobie, he wouldn't give up, but you're not him, you're just you, plain old you. People often wonder how you manage to stay in your major, with your simple button ups, white chucks, and your usual light cardigans, avoiding any bright colors in your wardrobe or other styles that would gather attention. Compared to your style, your classmates' eye-catching looks match with your major, not to mention they're not afraid to flaunt their unique styles.

Sometimes you miss the old you, the young starry eyed y/n, clothes always in full and bright colors, with matching accessories to boot, shoes sparkling in the light. You don't even remember when you buried your old self.

You miss her, wishing you never listened to the opinion of others, wishing that you never cowered behind their judgemental stares. Hobie never did any of that, but you can't help but hide yourself to stop people from their snickering. You sometimes wish to borrow a smidge of Hobie's don't-give-a-shit attitude, but alas the world doesn't work that way.

You suddenly have the urge to seek Hobie's warmth, instead you settle for the next best thing. Sighing, you crawl under the covers, head hitting the pillow. You're not giving up just yet, there's no shame in resting, you won't be able to finish your work like this anyway.

You eye your old cherry earrings, dangling on the side of your mirror, the only piece you kept from your old self. Mind going back to the past. You remember who helped you pick it from the mall, the only thing you could afford with your allowance. You two would always go there after school, window shopping and hunting for the latest trends. This was before you and Hobie became close, your friendship still blossoming.

You wonder how your old friend is doing, maybe you should call him up, ask him for tips, he's always had a better eye for designing ever since you were kids, considering him a protégé, his hand always scribbling away on his sketchbook.

Bringing the covers up to your nose, you close your eyes, trying to remember your old friend's number.

—

You finally hear Hobie's motorbike coming towards the event's place. People stare at the loud intrusion. You snort, knowing that he likes the disturbance he's causing.

You speed walk towards him, just in case he revs up his engine to spite everyone. "Hey, Hobie" You greet him with a tight lipped smile.

He takes off his helmet with a groan "what's this place? A concert or somethin'?" Hobie squints at the spotlights near the entrance.

"You okay? I made you some coffee. You said you lot played last night" you hand him a small thermos.

"That better not be from our starbucks card"

"No, that thing's expired, I brewed this from my good stash"

He turns his engine off, clambering off the motorbike, his heavy boots thudding against the asphalt. He hesitantly grabs the thermos. "No tea?"

"Nope, ran out of them last night" You take a good look at him, he's wearing his signature leather jacket covered in various pins and patches, his jeans a patchwork of cloth and metal accessories. His piercings shine in the moonlight. "Sorry I couldn't come last night, I needed to finish the pants"

"Fuck me, that's actually good" he says after taking a sip, "it's all right, the show was business as usual"

"I didn't miss anything?"

"Nah, missed you though" Hobie loops his arm over your shoulder, walking towards the entrance "Ned missed ya" he added to hide his first comment.

"The real question is, did James miss me too?" You joke, you're not naïve with how the guy manages to stammer every time you talk to him. Only when you talk to him.

"Everyone missed you" he holds you tighter.

"I better come to the next one then" you pinch his side.

Entering the venue, Hobie stops in his tracks, arm loosening off your shoulder.

"Where the fuck did you bring me?" He stares at the pearlescent runway, the sides full of chairs. Photographers and audiences move towards their seats.

"A runway show!" You nervously grin at him.

"Nah, y'know I don't like big brands, this place reeks of capitalism. Thought you wanted to get shawarma" He glares at you.

"We're gonna eat later, hear me out before you start walking away, please" Hobie narrows his eyes at you.

"Go on"

"This is a small brand, a niche fashion house. This event is this big because it's their first major collection. I promise you their clothes are all from sustainable materials and—" Hobie impatiently taps his foot "—and half of the proceeds go to charity! You know we both share the same sentiment when it comes to clothes. My entire wardrobe came from thrift stores and I recycle the fabrics I used on old projects."

"We haven't been in a thrift store in a while" He grumbles out.

"We can go after the show if you want"

"Now you're just bribing me"

You sigh, "I'm in a designing stump right now and I really need the inspiration, but I'm not forcing you, you can go if you really don't want to watch, I'm not gonna hold it against you"

Hobie stares you down, now under better lighting, he notices the bags under your eyes, your lips dry as bones, his annoyance turns into concern. You're stretching yourself too thin, maybe asking you to accompany him in finding a flat wasn't such a good idea. He mentally notes to retract his previous favor from you.

"Alright, you better not be lying about all that shit you said" He walks towards one of the chairs, pulling you by your sleeve.

"I'm not, Danny told me all about it"

He stops mid stride, "who?"

You sit down by the end of the runway, feeling lucky finding a good seat in front. "Danny from school, you don't remember him?" You pat the chair next to you.

"I literally don't remember anyone, except you and big Terry, him because we used to beat the shit out of each other. And you because I can't seem to shake you" Hobie quips. He sits down next to you.

"You are sooo sweet" you sarcastically say, "Danny's that small kid, with the big glasses. I used to hang out with him before he changed schools"

"You have other friends?" He acts surprised.

Rolling your eyes, you excitedly grab his arm when the light changes, the spotlight follows the first model out on the runway. You watch, taking note of the details on the dress.

Hobie watches your face the entire time, he deciphers your expressions– he translates your pout to mean that you liked it, everytime you narrow your eyes it means you didn't like it. You tighten your hold on him, that means you absolutely loved it. He chuckles when you grimace, oh you did not like that pair of pants.

The show ends, he turns his head towards the stage just in time for you to look at him with a satisfied smile. He nods and claps with you.

You reach for him, "come on, I see Danny over there!" You drag Hobie out of his chair, hand clasped over his.

He lets you hold him, Hobie feels disappointed when you let go of him, flexing his hand as you run up to Danny.

"Holy shit, cherry! You actually made it!" Danny greets you with a bear hug.

You pull away, an arm's length away from him. Hobie lingers behind you, waiting for you to introduce him. "Hi, Danny! Look at you Mr. Bigshot over here!"

"I'm just an assistant," he shrugs.

"Yeah, to the main designer!" You look over your shoulder, excited to reintroduce Hobie. "Danny, you remember Hobie, right?"

"Oh my days! Hobart Brown! My replacement" he playfully puts his hands on his hips. Hobie steps up to greet him.

"And you're not as small as I remember, what happened to the glasses?" He acts as if he remembers Danny clearly. Hobie fists bumps Danny's knuckles. "Call me Hobie, yeah? Only cops call me Hobart, and her, occasionally" He points at you with his head.

"Growth spurt and I got contact lenses, it's nice to see you again, hero"

So he's that Danny, Hobie finally remembers him.

You grin widely at the interaction, feeling energized and inspired. "The show was amazing! Thank you for inviting us"

"You're very welcome, unfortunately I can't hang around that long, gotta help them pack up" Danny points towards the back stage, "we'll catch up next time, okay?"

"Aww, that's too bad, thank you again. And yeah definitely we'll catch up some other time" you give your old friend a hug.

"Oh! I almost forgot, you asked for some advice on the phone, right?" Danny asks, you nod at his question. "Do whatever the hell you want, design whatever you fucking want, as long as you're happy with it, you're golden" he gestures widely while he talks. "I mean look at me! I'm wearing a pinstripe suit, I look like a fuckin' mobster from the 20's, do i give a shit what people say? No! Of course not."

Hobie leans down to your ear, slyly whispering "I can see why he's your friend, man's bonkers"

You bump your shoulder with Hobie,"That's– thank you, I needed that" you can't believe that Danny noticed your different style, even years later he still knows you.

"See, I still know you," he says as if he can read your mind. He winks at you, "missed you, cherry. Take good care of yourself" Danny walks away, he stops walking for a second, turning back to you both. "Oh! And Hobie, be a fucking man bruv, you're not fooling anyone" He continues to walk towards his destination.

Hobie looks surprised, was he watching you two interact while he was backstage? Did you say something to him? Nevertheless in the five minutes Danny talked to him, he read him like an open book. Can this guy read minds? If so, Hobie is in trouble.

You look at Hobie confused. "What did he mean by that?"

At least one theory is debunked, "don't know, love. Told you he has a few screws loose"

You look at him suspiciously, "you didn't say anything to him right?"

"No, why? Did you say anything to him?"

"I just asked him on the phone if we can meet, and he invited me here. I mentioned you and he told me to bring you too, that's it. Oh and also for the advice" you narrow your eyes "you sure you didn't say anything?"

"Why are you looking at me like that? No, I didn't" He tugs at your sleeve, trying to pull you out of the venue.

"Okayy, well he basically called you a wanker, soo"

"You called me a wanker, wanker"

You gasp, feigning hurt, clutching your non-existent pearls. "How dare you"

"You're just fuckin' hungry, c'mon" He slips his hand over yours, pulling you out of the event's place, dodging any questions you have because of what your old friend said. You giggle as he easily pulls you towards his bike.

He places you next to his motorcycle, plopping your helmet over your head, you laugh at his antics, "oh you're hangry, huh?"

Hobie secures the helmet, "he's right, y'know"

"Hmm? About what?" You look up at him through your lashes.

"Wear whatever you want. Don't hide yourself, especially with me." he shrugs "red suits you best, cherry" he clicks his tongue at the last word, annoyed that your old friend came up with a better nickname for you. Heat rises in your cheeks, Hobie avoids your eyes for a moment. "Let's go, I want shawarma" he lightly slaps the top of your helmet.

You look down at your shoes, smiling fondly.

A/N: I promise that Finn and Danny are the last ocs in this story (maybe lol). Thank you for reading! As always likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

Hobie sleeping in a field cuz he's tired

referencessss

the real MVPs of arcane

Peter B Parker and Mayday. Happy Father’s Day!

Hobie Request Masterlist III 💠

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Main Masterlist

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*I don't consent to having my work translated published on other platforms and copy pasted on any AI software*

Hobie cheers you up during a tough decision

Reverse isekai AU with Hobie

Comforting Hobie after a canon event

Hobie handles a very loopy you after a dentist visit

Cowboy! Hobie and you in your shared ranch

Hobie babying you after a rough day

Big brother! Hobie x sister's best friend! Reader

Hobie comforts you after a long shift

Movie slasher AU/ Actor AU

You mend Prowler! Hobie's wounds

Horse riding with Cowboy! Hobie

Princess! Reader x Pirate! Hobie

Drunk confessions

Hobie and his chatterbox

Exploring an abandoned building with Hobie

Yoga with Hobie

A trip to the vet feat: the cats

Hobie accidentally breaks your glasses

Zombie apocalypse AU

Hobie visits you in your family restaurant

Aquarium date with Hobie

Photographer! Hobie x Photographer! Reader

Hobie finds out about your lava showers

Blob and Hobie have an alliance

Relishing each other's presence

Lifeguard! Hobie x reader

Touch starved! Reader

Hobie leaves kiss marks all over you

Hobie has a sleeping kitten

You fight off an annoying fan

Beach day with the spider trio

Beach night with Hobie

Rollerblading with Hobie in his dimension

Seeing your long distance partner for the first time

Pretending to sleep in front of Hobie

Bounty hunter! Hobie x outlaw! Reader

Prowler! Hobie x venom! Reader

Spider-woman! R sneaks into Hobie's window while injured

Hobie carves pumpkins with you and helps out with an emergency

Hobie comforts you through grief

Nonchalant and cool R is actually a sap for Hobie only

You give a cute present for Hobie on your anniversary together

Cooking holiday meals with Hobie

Walking around the neighborhood with Hobie while watching Christmas lights

Hobie serenades you as a gift

Making Christmas decorations with Hobie

Hobie got you for secret Santa

New year's eve phone call with Hobie

Criminal! R x Spider-Punk

Florist! Reader x Spider-Punk

Actor! Hobie x reporter! Reader

A Regular Spidey Valentine's day

You give Hobie a lego set for valentine's day

Going on valentine's dates in different dimensions

Vampire! Reader x Hobie

BDAS! R teaches the pirate crew first aid

Hobie comforts you when it's one of those days

Stoic spider! Reader chats up loser! Hobie

You and Hobie loves hugging

Surprising Hobie on his birthday

First date with Hobie

You and Hobie paint each other

Hobie comes over for the first time and meets your symbiote cat

Selkie! Reader confesses to Hobie

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SIX THE MUSICAL - MODERN!AU: illustration

Lina's family tree 1/2