Amidst The Waves

Parallel Cut

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

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is taller than r though) , TW violence, CW injury, CW food mention, suggestive content.

My Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 10 >>> EPILOGUE

You walk through aunt Janet's shop, eyes adjusting to the lights. The smell of the store wafts through your senses, the old carpet smell, rows and rows of fabric displayed on the shelves smelling of chemicals and dye. There's a faint smell of leather lingering in the air, reminding you of Hobie. Trainers squeak briefly on the floor, waking you up from your zombie like trance.

When did you even get here?

Your mind has been noisy since yesterday, you've mostly been on autopilot, muscle memory guiding you to your destination. Rubbing your tired eyes, barely sleeping last night, you had the urge to knock on Hobie's door to help soothe your screaming head. You feel a throbbing pain behind your eyes, temple aching in a stabbing headache.

You make your way towards the register, finding it empty, you ring the call bell.

"I'll be there in a second" Janet's voice answers. You have no energy to reply back.

Bouncing on the balls of your feet, fingers fiddling with your ring, its red beady eyes glaring at you, you turn it around so that it faces your palm. Clutching your hand into a tight fist, you're sure it leaves a spider shaped indent on your soft skin.

You already know you're not gonna take the offer so why are you feeling this way? Is it because you're afraid of telling Hobie? If you did, what would be his reaction to it? Whatever it is, you won't accept the job. You only have one Hobie, there'll always be another job, right?

Exhaling, you scratch off a bit of your nail polish, it falls on the floor like snowflakes. Janet finally makes an appearance, cane thumping against carpet, face lighting up when she sees you.

"And here I thought you wouldn't pick up your order" she chuckles, eyes staying on your leather jacket. "Nice jacket, wonder whose that is?" Janet gives you a teasing look, eyebrow raising knowingly.

Giving her a shy smile, you bite your lip. "He made the move– well it was a team effort for the both of us" chuckling, your eyes twinkle when talking about him.

Janet claps her hand, you jump slightly at the cracking sound. For an old woman she could clap really loud. She grins widely at you, smile lines prominent.

"Oh my days! Finally!" She clutches her pearls, "oh so proud of you, sweetheart. Tell me, How'd it go? Only if you're comfortable of course"

"Well he made this really dramatic entrance at the show, running late of course" Janet hangs on to every word, eyes flickering to your tired ones. "After he walked on the runway he just upped and kissed me" you say still in disbelief, happy that you've finally told someone else in person.

Telling Yuri and the others on the phone wasn't as satisfying as you thought it would be. Still, their happy screeches and between 'told you so's'– It left a very giddy look on your face while Hobie rolls his eyes at Yuri telling James he owes her money. Ned was yelling the entire time, chanting 'I did that!' On the speaker, so loud in fact you thought he was gonna break it.

You didn't even mean to tell them at first, but when you answered the phone, Hobie's phone at three am, voice hoarse, sleep still in your eyes with Hobie tangled around your body, telling you in his sleep deprived voice to drop the call, it's safe to say your eardrums almost burst out with (a very drunk) Ned's surprised screech followed by (an equally drunk) Yuri and James. There goes keeping it a secret for a while till you two get the hang of things.

Despite that, your past thoughts linger in the back of your head, hammering loudly, threatening to break down your defensive walls.

"But you don't look too happy" Janet pipes up after your retelling. She looks concerned, lips turning into a thin line. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, I'm really happy" Voice quiet, surprised that she saw through the cracks. You're really happy but the offer has your very being torn in half. Occupying your thoughts, eating you inside.

"Honey, I have five children and eleven grandkids, trust me I can tell." She sighs, eyes softening. "You don't have to tell me, but if that boy did something–"

Shaking your head, you're prepared to defend Hobie with your life. "It's not him." With a wobbly breath, you ask her for advice. "Did you ever have to leave someone you love because it'll be better in the long run?"

"Depends, better for whom exactly?" She turns around, grabbing your order from the shelf behind her. "And why would it be better for them?" Bringing the rolls of fabric on the counter with a thump.

"Nevermind, it's nothing" you retract your previous words. Palm aching from how hard you're clenching your fists, giving her a tight lipped smile.

Janet nods, genuine concern on her face. "I don't want to push you, but if you still want my advice just ask." She rings up your purchase.

"Thank you" paying for the fabric, you walk away from the cashier. An idea pops up wherein you don't have to directly ask, because if you did, it would make it real.

"A friend of mine was offered a job" biting your lip, you're technically not lying to her since your classmate Hannah got offered the same thing as you.

Walking back to the counter, Janet listens intently. "And uh, she's worrying about leaving her friends because the job requires her to move away," you pause for a brief second. "Really far away. And she hasn't told them"

"Give your friend my congratulations then." She smiles at you, "Was it a good offer at least?"

"Yeah, they gave m–her a lot to consider. It's a great opportunity for her," with all the numerous visits at her shop, you've grown to trust Aunt Janet with her wisdom in life, not to mention you're quite similar to each other. You value her opinion.

"But she's anxious because she wants to stay with her friend?" You nod at her question, knowing exactly what she's implying. "Well, ask her what was her initial reaction to the news, that usually gives a lot of information on what she truly feels" remembering your excitement and happy first reaction, you try to cover it up in your mind.

"She really doesn't want to leave him behind" your eyes start watering at the thought.

"Does she love him?"

"A lot, she loves him so much it hurts sometimes." You inhale at the confession, feeling guilty that you're dumping it all on Janet.

She takes your clenched hand that's been shaking on the counter, unclenching it, your nails leave half moon indents on your palms.

"Just talk to him, tell him. He'll help her figure it out, better than this old woman can" Janet squeezes your hand. You nod, taking her advice.

"Thank you, I'll tell her that" smiling at aunt Janet, you blink away the tears pooling in your watery eyes.

"Do you want to have a cup of tea? My daughter just sent me a batch from India. I think you'll like it." Janet asks, determined to help ease your mind off of things.

"Okay, sure" accepting, she leads you behind the counter into the back of the store.

—

You wave to Janet goodbye, stomach full of tea and biscuits. Opening the door, you stop in your tracks.

Hobie leans on his bike, grinning widely as he sees you come out of the store. He gives you a look that sweeps you off your feet, feeling like you're back in school having a crush on your best friend. Your heart sings in his presence, a giddy smile on your lips, practically skipping over to him.

"Hi, what are you doing here?" Your smile turns into a frown when you spot a cut on his lip. "Holy shit! What happened? Who did this to you?" Anger settles in your chest. Hands carefully cupping his jaw, scanning for more injuries. You grit your teeth, winching at the thought of him getting hurt.

"It's nothing I can't handle, you should've seen the tosser who tried to take me on" He holds your wrist, calloused fingertips massaging the tensed muscle.

"Are you okay? Any pain?"

"I'm fine, I can barely feel it now" it's how he finds out about his enhanced healing, thanks to the ability, he healed it in no time. The injury looked much worse before coming to you. Still, he savors you doting on him, "Gromit, I'm fine, yeah? Don't worry"

You let out a breath you didn't notice you were holding. Hand sliding down to his neck, fingers fiddling with his necklace. "Are you sure? Let's just go home for today, then you can tell me who I need to beat up" pulling back, your eyebrows knitted together.

"Nah, c'mon. I feel better now that you're here" Hobie pats the seat of the motorcycle. Noticing that you haven't moved, he tilts his head, giving you his most convincing smile. "Gromit, love, cherry" He calls every nickname you have until there's a shy smile on your lips, he even calls your most embarrassing childhood nicknames, "little worm, pebbles, guppy" you hide behind your hand.

"Okay, enough" you laugh, embarrassed at the names, especially that you're on a semi busy street. Taking your hands away from your face to cup Hobie's mouth. He smiles underneath it.

"There she is" Hobie brings you closer, pulling you by the sleeve of his jacket.

"I hate you" you grin through it, eyes flicking down to his lips, worried that you might exacerbate his injury if you kiss him right there and then.

He chuckles deeply, "You love me though" Hobie shuts down your apprehensiveness, lips a breath away from yours.

Sighing, you act exasperated but your love struck smile betrays you. "Unfortunately, I do" you quip back, words stitched with fondness. Closing your eyes, he guides you into the kiss. Hands flying to the back of his neck, deepening it further.

The nagging feeling stays, whispering and taunting. You push it far back in your mind, it gnaws and claws, begging to be let out.

—

You whistle out at the breathtaking view in front of you, clutching the bag of fish and chips in your arms, Hobie helps you take off your helmet. The cliff overlooks the city's landscape, sunset turning everything around you in an orange glow. To your right is a dozen or so picnic tables, moss clings to the wood, still it stands tall. Behind is the woods, thick enough to get lost in, curved oak and pine looming like giants. Birds chirp in the background adding to the calm scenery.

"Do you take all your women here?" You ask teasingly half seriously.

"Only the ones I've pined for since childhood" he joins your side, shoving you with his hip lightly. Hobie takes the bag from your arm in exchange for his hand. Intertwining his fingers with yours as heat rises to your cold cheeks.

You and Hobie are the only ones in the place, save for a few birds and critters hanging around. Cold air nips at your neck, the sun making it warm enough to enjoy the weather.

Hand in hand, he guides you towards one of the tables. Sitting down, you inhale the fresh air. Hobie gives you your share of chips, you smile at him appreciatively.

"So, who do I have to beat up?" You ask, cracking your knuckles for added effect.

Hobie chortles, "hell, I'll even help you"

"What happened anyway?"

He sighs, frustrated. "We got blocked, they knocked down one of us for no reason. Things escalated" Hobie saves you from the violence. "Fuckin' Wilson Fisk still sits pretty up in his ivory tower" his frustration barks back. "Sorry" He exhales, unclenching his fists.

"Don't be, I should've been there. I'm the one who should be sorry" You take his hand, squeezing it three times.

"If you were there, you could've gotten hurt. Don't think I can handle that" The thought of you almost getting trampled back in the pit still weighs heavy in his mind. He brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a quick yet affectionate kiss over your skin. "Everyone's fairly okay, we got out early. We'll try again though"

"I'll be there next time, are you sure it's not hurting anymore? Once we get back home, I'll put some betadine over it" the thought of you on his lap, cooing and cleaning his wounds fills him with affection.

"I'm sure, love" Hobie exhales. "Let's eat, it's starting to get cold" you nod, still concerned for him. Hobie watches your eyes roam around the greenery. "D'you seriously not remember this place?" Sitting next to you, he sips at his drink, avoiding his cut lip.

"Why? have we been here before?"

"Yeah, school field trip. Our classes had the same schedule. This is where we ate lunch, remember now?"

"Oh, shit!" Recognition flashes on your face. "Where we got left behind by the bus!"

"Mm-hmm" He points at you with a mouthful of chips.

"We got left behind because you were too busy snogging what's her face behind a tree to remember the call time"

"No, I wasn't," he shakes his head. "You gotta get your memory checked, love"

"Nuh-uh, I remember it because it was what everyone was talking about"

"We got left behind by the bus because I was lookin' for you" his face turning serious.

"What?"

"I never snogged anyone here" he scoffs, "wankers were stirring up rumours 'bout me again." Hobie scoots closer to you, "I got back to the bus after going to the toilets. I watched your bus get filled up but I never saw you get on. So I came back out to look for you"

You nod, trying to recollect the memory.

He walks you back to that day. "I looked around, asked your classmates. No one saw you. I was starting to panic, thinkin' you got lost in the woods, tempted by a ghoul or somethin'" you snort at his joke. "Found you ten minutes later, crouched on the grass, drawing a fucking flower"

You hide your face in embarrassment, remembering exactly why you hid there. Memory brings you back to that day.

Hobie finally finds you, he feels like he can breathe again. Sitting quietly next to you, his eyes linger on the side of your face. Clutching your sketchbook and pencil in a tight knuckle grip.

You sat there in silence until you forgave yourself for loving him.

"Oh fuck" voice muffled by your hands. "We were stuck here for like three fucking hours because I was such a dramatic bitch!"

"Well, it was a pretty flower" he tries to make you feel better.

"That was not my best moment" you chuckle, "I remember running there because I heard about you kissing someone. Guess I've got a penchant for running away huh?"

"No matter, I'll keep trying to find you whenever you do," you smile sweetly at his words. "Or just catch you before you do"

"You're implying that there's going to be something for me to run away from" you joke, Hobie goes with your bit.

"I don't think there's any more crude rumours of me out there. Think you're good, love." You shake your head with a playful roll of your eyes, cleaning a crumb off his cheek. Hobie gives you a peck on your finger tip as a thank you.

A comfortable silence blankets you both, your mind takes the quiet to its advantage, it goes back to Janet's advice. Mrs. Williams' words echo around you, layered on top of Riley's offer. Heart beating fast, the plastic spoon snaps in half as you grip it too tightly.

Hobie's head turns towards the crunching sound, "you alright? Let me see, you might have splinters"

"I'm okay, just flimsy plastic"

"Here, you can share mine."

"Thanks"

Silence permeates the air once again.

"I need to tell you something" you and Hobie say at the same time.

"Age before beauty" He pokes your side with a chuckle.

You bite your lip, gaze lingering somewhere other than his face. Eyes moving at the gaps of sunlight on the trees. Maybe you shouldn't tell him, you're gonna stay with him anyway, what's the point? You find It painfully difficult.

Because if you did tell him, it would all feel sickenly real. A gut feeling fluttering restlessly, mind predicting the outcome of the conversation.

Hobie notices your apprehensiveness, he calls your name tenderly. Encouraging you to speak your mind.

"Do you remember that bloke back at the fashion show?" Bravery taking over with a shaky voice.

Humming in understanding, Hobie moves his leg over the bench, straddling it to look at you fully.

You fake a smile through it, "well he offered me a job"

"Bloody good on you, love!" He pats your arm, hand staying on it. "Well deserved!"

You smile bashfully at his reaction. "Thanks, but I'm not gonna take it" you bravely look at him, focusing on the slow knit of his brows.

"Why not? 's a good opportunity" his hand slides down your arm, landing on your thigh, unmoving, tethering you to him.

"It's just that– they want me to move to the US for it." Sighing, "so, I'm not taking it" you watch as Hobie's smile fades, the cogs in his head moving rapidly, jaw clenching, wrapping his mind to what you just said.

"Sorry, what was it you're gonna say?" Trying to change the topic, Hobie takes your hand in his.

Heart lodged in his throat, Hobie stays quiet for a minute, for you it seemed like forever. The only sounds are the leaves blowing in the cool air, birds happily chirping as if they're mocking you. Faint traffic beeps from below, it might as well be right next to you with how deafening the silence is. The food you ate sits weirdly in your stomach. You try to even out your breathing as Hobie finally opens his mouth to speak.

"I fell for you right here, did you know that?" He squeezes your hand. You did not expect for him to say that, shaking your head, your heart beats a thousand times per minute.

"You gave me a sandwich– made me one, actually" he continues as you listen on. "Because you know I wouldn't bring my own lunch. You cared for me when no one else did. Then you upped and disappeared that day and–" Hobie releases a shuddering breath. "I just panicked. Then that turned into relief when I finally found you."

Stray tears slide down your cheeks. "As I sat down next to you, realizing that I was panicking because I loved you. And was afraid you were already gone without knowing how much loved you were"

A sob breaks through when you see his watery eyes, something you would've never thought of ever seeing from the strongest person you know and love.

"Hobie–"

"Take it, take the offer" he says woefully.

You shake your head like a child throwing a tantrum. "No, I'm not leaving you," your voice breaking. "I can't"

"You've wanted this since–before you've even met me." Hobie chuckles humorlessly. "I don't want to hold you back" softly, he cups your face in both hands, afraid of what he'll do next. "Do you want it? I won't hold it against you, I want you to fulfill your dreams" even if I'm not a part of it.

You nod your head slowly, answering his question, soft hands holding his trembling ones tightly. "Please, just say the words and I'll stay." You sniff, acting brave. "Please say it!" Balling his shirt in your fists. You hope, wish that he changes his mind. That he would tell you to stay with him. But you know him better, Hobie's a lot of things, selfish isn't one of them.

He stares at your glimmering eyes, watching his own face contort into sorrow. Killing the part of him that wants you to stay.

"You need to go" sobs wracked your body when he utters the words. The ground would've swallowed you whole if not for his hold on you. But it'll be okay if it did as long as you fall with him.

It's love in its most painful form.

His heart breaks for what he's about to do. Hobie takes out his favour card from his pocket, punching out all the remaining logos. You can barely see through your tears while he does it, the card looks bare in his hands. Small circles of logos taken by a gust of wind. He calls your name softly with no malice or resentment in his voice.

Nothing remains on the piece of paper.

You want him to scream and curse at you, make him feel something else instead of sadness. Instead, Hobie hugs you through it, shoulders shaking, hands wrapped around you protectively. Your hands cling to his vest like it's your lifeline.

You hate that you broke his heart after filling it with love.

In between weeping, you mumble 'sorries' love overflowing for each other, cups filling to the bream.

"I'm sorry," you look at him through the tears, cheek on his broad chest, he shakes his head, rocking you slightly in his arms. You feel his racing heartbeat.

"Do you regret this?" Us? You ask tentatively, sniffling. You don't want him to resent you for stringing him along just to leave him right after.

"No, never. I'll do it all over again if I have to.'' He doesn't regret loving you or even confessing, the only thing he grieves over is that it took him too long to do so, he would've had more time with you.

He resents himself.

"I'll wait for you" he blurts out through the tears.

"Please, don't. You don't have to"

"I've waited for you for as long as I could remember and I'll wait for decades more if I have to." He wipes your cheeks, you savour him with every touch. Hobie asks the dreaded question, "when are you leaving?" Whispering it to you so that the world doesn't know. Just you and him on that park bench, bodies in a tight embrace, love pouring out from every pore.

"In two months" you answer with a frown, tears still flowing freely.

"It'll be the best two months of your life then" he captures your lips in a solemn kiss, memorizing every detail, engraving it into his brain.

—

Hobie kept his promise, those two months were the best you've ever had. You and Hobie did everything you've ever wanted together. Moved in with him on that houseboat you've briefly called your home.

Bodies joined together on his sheets you've mended, love and laughter lit up the entire house. With every caress and whispered confessions sends you two reeling over the edge.

Still, your parting looms over your heads. Tears wiped away as soon as they started, reminding you that you won't be truly apart when your very souls have been intertwined since the beginning.

With tearful eyes and sad smiles you part with the love of your life. Promises of late night calls and hand written letters falling on both your lips. Kisses lingering, touch fading as you fly off to your new life.

Hobie takes your photo with him on every patrol, tucked safely inside his leather vest, fingers gliding over the seams you've stitched together.

You look at the polaroid of you and Hobie before bed as you end your call with him, his voice anchoring you. Looking at the moon on your small window brings you comfort that the same one watches over him.

He wakes up alone, sun beaming down on his face, smiling fondly, the thought of the same sun bearing down on you fills the hole in his heart. Reminders of you stays in his home, *your home. Throw pillows on his lumpy couch, your slippers in the bathroom, mug sitting next to his. He leaves it where you last put them, waiting for you.

You endure.

Slowly but surely you grow accustomed to your new life, getting used to the empty space beside you. You meet like minded friends, they help you get out of your shell.

You find yourself, the same one you've lost years ago.

Both of you try to make time for each other even with the time difference and busy schedules. You write letters sprayed with your perfume, a piece of fabric from your newest design is taped inside, words filled with adoration and content. Hobie replies immediately back, with blood stained knuckles he writes quickly. He leaves a dried flower inside the envelope, his letters always ending with the same three words.

After a rough battle, Hobie finds himself recruited to some society full of people with abilities like him. He doesn't seem so lonely anymore. A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders.

You see Spider-Man on TV one day, smiling as the reporter tells the audience that Wilson Fisk is finally out of power thanks to the spandex and leather clad hero. Even with the grainy footage, you recognize Spider-Man's vest.

You dream of each other, dreams getting blurry every night until it's foggy and muddy, turning into a dreamless sleep.

Hobie sees your familiar face, a version of you at least, he doesn't run to her or talk, just watches with a faint smile on his lips. Glad that you're happy in every dimension. He harbours no sadness or even guilt, just love. He'd always miss you but his happiness for you would always win over the emotion.

With each sunrise he wakes up to, satisfaction flowing through him, knowing he chose well. One day he looks next to him without sadness blooming in his chest, just a fond smile under his mask.

He's proud of you and you're proud of him. Sometimes that's enough.

Your love for each other never waned, it stood dormant in your hearts, waiting and yearning for the day you finally reunite.

Until you thread the needle again.

A/N: AHHH!! IT'S FINALLY DONE! From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading, and interacting with my lil story! And thank you for sticking around this long ❤️

Until next time, lovelies (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

(Please read the epilogue when it comes out ily)

SHE'S LITERALLY ME

Wendell & Wild (2022)

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

this hobie design is very special to me

Go by the Board

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, TW violence, CW injury, TW blood, TW death, CW needles.

Navigation

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

The bandages around your wrists itch, you try not to scratch the annoying feeling away knowing infection on a ship could be deadly for you. Frozen in a fetal position, your legs tucked under the dust covered blankets, you focus on the locked door, the silver pendant hanging on the doorknob sways as the boat rocks in the wild waves.

You've only slept for a few hours following what you've witnessed, the sailor's screams still echo in your mind, clawing and gnawing at your skull. You try not to think about it, pushing the image of him writhing on the blood soaked floorboards.

Maybe it's better if you don't think about it, ever. Scrubbing it from your mind, you exhale a shaky breath, fingers twitching to scratch that annoying itch.

Why is it so fucking itchy? Your nose itches. Why does everything in this damned room smell old? The small cabin seems to swallow you whole as you lay on the unusually soft mattress. You twist and turn, kicking the blankets away in frustration. Your head pounds from the oncoming headache.

Gritting your teeth, you hear gasps and pained yells from outside. There's something dragging under the sound of curses. You sit up, your eyes feel heavy, it seems like your brain is trying to escape from you. You don't blame it.

You do your best at trying to look normal, well normal for someone who hasn't slept for more than four hours for two days straight. Straightening your back, the noises stop right at your door.

There's shuffling then the clinking of keys, the door bursts open, a man stumbles inside, landing harshly on his face. You recognize the navy lieutenant, his hands and feet bound. His once pristine uniform slashed and dirtied with drying blood. His shiny medals are nowhere to be found.

You lift your feet up on the bed, shielding yourself, wide eyes staring at the captain who looks worse than you. Hobie's still wearing the exact same clothes he wore during the battle, cotton shirt marred by crimson and tattered at the seams, his eyes are bloodshot, the storm still raging inside. There's a large slash by his collar bone that's only been remedied by a hastily put bandage.

Gwen follows right behind him, equally tired and bloodied. Her face is flat, emotion unreadable. She holds a blunderbuss to the captive’s head.

“Now, do you know her?” Hobie speaks up above the silence. Your heart skips a beat after mentioning you. “Don't keep us waiting, George. We haven't got all day.”

The navy man props himself up slowly and painfully, his joints creak, wounds opening. He looks at you through one eye, blood and bruises obscuring his vision.

He inhales scratchily, you suspect his lungs have collapsed. He chuckles and you could only look back towards Gwen who secretly shakes her head at you.

The captive laughs louder and louder, like he's lost his damn mind. “I think I know who this room belonged to, you fuckin’ snake!” he sing songs.

Gwen pushes the barrel closer to his temple, he pauses for a moment before cackling again. Hobie's knuckles tighten but his face remains indecipherable.

“Did you think bringing me here will get me to talk about what happened that day?” He makes it his mission to rile Hobie up, he's given up.

“Or are you showing me her replacement?” His eyes slither over to you, cackling more and more as his eyes roam your body.

“Enough,” Gwen finally speaks, pushing the barrel painfully close to his skin. “He asked you a question”

“You've already gotten what you need from me you fuckin' barbarians!”

Hobie closes the distance, “And we need more from you.” he bends at the waist to forcefully move the man's face towards you. “Do you know her?”

The beaten man smirked evilly, bloodied smile tempting you to hit him. He tilts his head, “Aye,” alarm bells start ringing in your head.

“The captain sent her as a spy, just look at her,” he side eyes Hobie who stares at you with his stormy eyes. “Quite a siren, huh? Were you captivated, eh ‘captain’?”

You could only look at Hobie through tearfilled eyes, pleading silently. You want to live but your mouth has clamped shut, your entire body is frozen, preventing you from laying your case.

After a minute of listening to the man praise you for your supposed work, Hobie yanks him away when George gets too close to you.

“Good on you for confirming our suspicions.” Your heart drops to your stomach. “But the details you've given us don't quite match up with what she's told us.” Hobie clicks his tongue, “I think you need to sing more for us, Georgie.”

The man's smile drops, he swallows thickly.

“Take him below.” The captain says as he reels in his anger.

Finn appears from the doorway, immediately taking the prisoner by the collar, dragging him further down the hallway, while he kicks and squirms to no avail. Gwen follows, sparing you a quick nod. She shuts the door behind her, the clicking sounds like a death knell specifically for you.

The soft lapping of the waves doesn't ease your nerves, it acts as a countdown with every hit to the side of the ship. The seagulls squawk loudly just outside your window, they're annoying but at least they're free.

After a minute of quiet and Hobie's eyes roaming around the small cabin, you hear him thud against the door. This is it, you think, picturing him taking out his cutlass to sever your head from your shoulders. Or maybe he's a gentleman, preferring to off you quick and painless with his blunderbuss.

Instead of the loud booming sound of a gun going off, you hear his voice. “What happened to your fire?”

“I'm too tired to keep it lit.” you bravely look up, he leans on the door, his shoulders and face relaxed, back slouched, knuckles bloody and broken. “Are you going to bring me below too or are you gonna end me right here?”

He frowns, “Why would I do that?”

“Because he just told you—”

Hobie sighs, you fall silent. The lines of his face are prominent as the sun rises once again. The light from the window hits him just right, bathing him in soft yellow. He closes his eyes like he's savouring the warmth.

“Men like him will do anything to bring someone else down with him.” He opens his grey eyes, the storm has calmed down behind it. “He knows he's lost.”

“You tied me up. Locked me up.”

“I know, it was for the better until I truly know you're not one of them. You're alive aren't you? Do you want me to apologize?”

“No, fuck you. I want you to thank me for saving your first mate.”

He chuckles lowly, “There it is, keep that fire yeah?”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“Sleep, you can have this cabin in the meantime.”

You glare at him, not trusting his own words.

“Here,” Hobie tosses a key at you. “my olive branch. Rest, trust me once everyone wakes from their poppy filled haze you're gonna wish you've slept.”

You hold the key in between your fingers, familiarizing yourself with the indents. “What?”

“Mend their wounds, doc. Prove your worth.” He turns to leave. “Do keep the place clean, yeah?”

You shakily stand up, locking the door behind him. Barely making it back to bed, you collapse, sleep taking you in its embrace.

—

You wake up to loud frantic knocking on your door. With a groan and sleep laden eyes, you reluctantly open the door.

Miles greets you, his smile not reaching fully to his tired eyes. “Finally! You sleep like the dead you know?”

“What's happening? Are we getting attacked again?” Your eyes roam across the cramped hallway.

“I hope not, they need you at the infirmary.”

“The ship has an infirmary?”

Following Miles through the halls and numerous stairs, you make unusual small talk.

“So…did Hobie tell you that I'm not a traitor?”

Miles stops in front of you, eyes narrowed. “Don't say the ‘T word’ around here or” he steps closer to whisper. You listen with trepidation. “or saving Gwen won't be enough for you to stay.” he looks around for a sign that someone else is listening.

“Why can't I say the ‘T word’? Did something happen back then?”

“Can you not?” He grimaces. “You can literally ask me anything else other than that.”

“Right, sorry.” You two continue to walk. “Who's MJ?”

Miles groans in annoyance. “Seriously?”

“What?! You said anything but that.”

“Alright, smart ass, anything but those two. Learn to read the room, jeez!” he shakes his head.

“Fine! How'd a kid like you end up here then? Am I allowed to ask that? Hmm?” you rile him up. This is the most fun you've had in days, anything to get rid of the thoughts swimming in your mind.

“Don’t call me kid, landlubber. If you hadn't saved Gwen back then I would throw you overboard so fast right now” Miles stomps further away from you while you chuckle.

“Yeah? And what's Gwen to you then? I see how you look at her.”

He stops with his hands on his hips, head falling in exasperation, he's too quiet.

“Miles?” oh shit. You might've gotten too far with your teasing. You weren't even sure what you said was true, it was just a wild guess.

“Is it that obvious?!” He suddenly yells, turning to look at you with his hands over his head like he's in physical pain. “You've been here for less than three days and you've noticed!”

“Please calm down.” You laugh nervously, the last thing you need right now is making Hobie's navigator cry. “I was teasing you is all.” You have no idea how to comfort the poor guy. “I won't tell anyone I promise!”

“Especially Gwen,” he points at you.

“I won't tell anyone.” you cross over your heart. “If you answer my questions” smiling mischievously, you can see Miles already regretting his choices.

“Blackmail? Really?” He huffs.

“Please it's the least you can do for me after saving the love of your life. Also blackmail is probably the lowest crime the bloodsail pirates have committed.”

Something passes by his eyes, a memory perhaps? You have no idea what it was but his eyes glissen over. He composes himself in a second, clearing his throat.

“Correction, you're not a bloodsail pirate.”

“I am for two weeks at least” you shrug.

“Finn is right, you are annoyingly talkative.”

“Hey! Talkative for his standards maybe. You try getting stuck in a small room with a silent giant and you will truly know how bored you can be.”

Miles nods, smirking like he knows something you don't. “You talk a lot to hide the fear inside you.”

Did he just psychoanalyze you?

“This crew will be the death of me, move, people are probably dying while we're talking” you walk past a grinning Miles.

Walking past a few more rooms, you spot an open door to your right. The dimly lit room catches your attention with its bookshelves full of gorgeously bound books.

“A library? You have a library here?!” You excitedly walk over to the doorframe, eyes quickly scanning the titles on the shelves. “I haven't seen a huge collection like this in my entire life.”

Miles steps over to the side, promptly shutting the door. “After you take care of my family then we can talk about library privileges.” He gives you a look that has you rolling your eyes.

“Fine, dork” you whisper the last word.

“What was that?” He clearly heard you.

“Nothing! Let's go and save some people.”

Turning the corner, leaning on the walls, there lies a line of disgruntled pirates. They hold on to their various injuries, groaning in pain. They cheer once they see you but they quickly shut up after their pain flares up from the cheering.

Walking towards the open double doors of the infirmary, they look at you with their unreadable faces. The common theme though is the ache in their bones and the blood coated shirts.

You assess each of their injuries, some are minor, only having gashes on their arms and legs. A few are bleeding through their bandages, head wrapped hastily in bandages that clearly needs to be changed immediately.

Trying to remember what she taught you, you sigh, hands clammy. You haven't handled this many people, only used to treating a couple of people at a time in your small village with her. Times like this, you can't help but miss her. Shaking your head, you can't let your mind wander again, right when the people who are helping you stay literally afloat need you.

But you can't handle this many people alone.

“Uh…who’s more injured?” you ask.

They all raise their injured hands.

“Okay, who's still bleeding?”

Half of them raise their hands.

As if sensing your panic, Pavitr comes up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Need my help? I'm not that good with blood but I'm sure I can help. and Miles can help too, right, bud?” Pav catches Miles who's sneaking away to leave. “Where are you going?”

“Uh… to look for Ned, yeah! He can help too.”

Ned yells from inside the infirmary, “I'm already in here! I was the one who told you to fetch Y/N, remember?”

You and Pavitr share a look.

“Yep yep! I'm coming to help, see?” He stops when he's inside the small clinic. “Oh man, that's a huge needle you have there Ned”

You clasp Miles on his trembling shoulder, “Don't worry I'll keep it away from you. For a price of course.”

Miles huffs, gritting his teeth. “You get three questions.”

“Good–”

“After you're done here”

“Fine.” you enter the room with a roll of your eyes. The smell of poppy, ointment and iron fills your senses. Suddenly you're back at home, the roaring fire from the stone fireplace warms you as the huge book in your lap has you enthralled by the illustration of human anatomy.

Groaning brings you back to the present. The first thing you see is Ned tending to ugly mug, his back exposed. Ned’s huge needle is sewing up a deep cut just below the man's shoulder.

“Give it to me straight, mate, I'm gonna look even uglier now aren't I?” He asks Ned.

You scrunch up your nose after seeing his face still good looking and injury free.

Turning around to face Pav and Miles, you try to remember her teachings, you can still feel her hands guiding your own as she rambles on how you should always wash your hands before treating someone. It's been years since then, her voice is nothing but a memory, slowly fading away as you grow older.

You haven't been practicing much, but you kept up with your knowledge by reading pamphlets as much as you can. It's a useful skill afterall, especially when you travel. With an exhale, you start instructing the two.

“Pav,” he straightens up. “get me some hot water from the galley and the purest alcohol Finn has.”

“Got it, I have to fight Finn though” he runs off with determination in his eyes.

“Miles, I need you to triage” you continue as you head off to the basin to clean in between your nails. The dried blood from your fingernails turns the water murky and brown.

“Put the people in front of the line who need to get treated first and with the most severe injuries while the people with the least severe injury to the back of the line.” You look over your shoulder. “Understood?”

“I'm doing it but not because you told me to.” he goes out of the room, already yelling at his impatient crew mates. You hear someone saying ‘what the fuck is a triage? use english!’

You look at Ned. “Please tell me you washed your hands.”

—

You're incredibly hungry, again. Your fingers ache from all the sewing and patching you've done. Your hands smell like herbs and ointments. The muscles in your hands still shake from all the bullets you had to carefully take out. But everyone seems to be stable now, thanks to you.

Washing your hands in the newly replenished basin, you hear footfalls against wood from above. For a second your mind flings back to the fight, you pinch your pinky to distract yourself from the image.

A plate clangs behind you. Looking over your shoulder, Miles is once again trying to sneak away.

“Thanks, Miles” You genuinely smile at him, just looking at the hot plate of mashed potatoes and beans has your stomach grumbling.

“Fine, ask away” he sits across from you, arms crossed on his chest.

“I actually forgot about that, thank you for mentioning it.” You smile mockingly, taking the plate to finally eat.

“What? Oh come on, man” he points suspiciously at you. “Why are you so curious?”

“Because human beings are naturally curious.” Miles makes a face. “Fine, I want to know the backstory of the legendary bloodsail pirates. I mean can you blame me? I have to live with the crew for two weeks.”

He sighs, convinced. “As long as the answers to your questions are already known by the navy,” you nod, “ask away.”

You chuckle. “First question, Where did Hobie get this huge ship?”

“Stole it, next question”

“Really? you're not gonna elaborate on that? I got the needles far away from you the entire time.”

He clicks his tongue. “Stole it from a rich merchant ship years ago with just his wits and a blunderbuss. He's been upgrading it since then, you can barely see the original facade.”

“I gotta admit it to him, that sounds like a good story to tell.”

“Maybe if you play nice he can tell it to you someday.”

You sigh, “Some mysteries just have to stay a mystery.”

He chuckles softly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Second question,” you take another spoonful of beans, chewing while talking. “Where did he get his crew?”

Miles looks at you with disgust. “Swallow first, Christ. Some joined later on, some like Gwen, Pav, Finn and I have been with him from the start.”

“Elaborate? Or I'll chew with my mouth open”

“What is wrong with you? I'm not done yet, jeez.” He looks like he's about to jump away from you. “A few of us were running from getting drafted during the war, only having us as their only option or go to jail.” You listen intently.

“But most of us joined after hearing about us, wanting to be pirates but they want to give back to the people instead of just taking and plundering for gold.” he scratches the back of his neck. “I guess some of us are more into it rather than just pure survival.”

“Wait, you do that? Like some sort of pirate Robin Hood?”

Miles looks at you surprised. “Of course we do, I'm guessing that doesn't make it to the sunday news huh?” he sighs. “Well that's what we do, we only take from the rich and give it back to the people who need it most. Most of the time the nobles and merchants don't suffer much loss from it.”

“Well until I see it for myself I'll think otherwise. Next question—”

“Nope, you've already asked your three questions!” He cackles.

“Wait, the last one doesn't count! Come on, one last very important one that if I don't get the answer to, I will combust.”

Miles pouts his lips, thinking like it's the most difficult thing ever. “Hmmm, you blowing up into tiny pieces sounds great actually.”

“I won't tell Gwen you're utterly in love with her. Just one last thing.”

“You won't tell anyone”

“I promise! And when I promise I intend to keep it.”

He exhales the most tired exhale ever. “Ask”

You smile. “Why follow Hobie?”

Miles stares at you directly, none of the annoyed look he's given, no boyish charm you've seen the entire day you've spent with him and the crew. He looks like a proper pirate with his back straight and loyalty emanating just from his tone.

“Because it's Hobie,” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You have no idea the things he's sacrificed for us. Before we were a crew he— I owe him my life. And it's not blind loyalty, we're all free to leave if we don't want to follow him to the end. Some have already left.” He says the last part forlornly. “I guess I follow him because he's family, not just my captain.”

You look at your half eaten meal, family, you haven't heard that in ages. You have family somewhere, you're sure of it. In your journeys you've had people, friends, but not enough to be called your family; they haven't come close to what you had with her in that little cabin of yours in the middle of nowhere.

If only greed wasn't a thing, you'd still be with her.

You feel a ghost of your necklace graze your chest, instinctively holding on to it for comfort, disappointing yourself when you can't grasp it.

“Y/N?”

You clear your throat, fighting the tears from flowing. “So if he's your family and the crew is also your family, does that mean you're in love with Gwen who's supposedly your family? Hmmm?”

“You know what I meant! What is truly wrong with you?!”

“What? I'm just asking!”

“Oh really? Well you use humour as a crutch!”

You gasp, “Rude!”

“Yep that's you! Miss ‘I make jokes during serious conversations’”

“Understood, now where did I put that needle?” you act like you're trying to find it, patting your pockets.

“Nope, I'm already gone!” He's sprinting away from you. “You're needed in the galley by the way!” His muffled yell makes you laugh.

Another day, another quiet day in the galley for you.

—

During dinner, you've noticed the empty chairs, the sound of the waves crashing and utensils scraping still echoing in your ears as you watch them bring out their dead from below.

The full moon witnesses the crew put their dead on the now pillaged navy ship. The bodies wrapped carefully in white sheets. There's no breeze blowing or waves lapping at the sides of the ship. Everything's at a standstill.

The eerie silence has you standing by the edge of the crowd. Not a part of it but not truly alone.

The gas lamps illuminate the crew's expressions. You're not used to seeing their faces look so devastated, especially after all the laughs you've shared with them while mending their wounds mere hours ago.

You know it's not your place to be here or to even stand with them while they're mourning their friends. But you stay because if it's the other way around you'd want the only outsider to mourn with you, to stand in solidarity with you even if she doesn't know how the people you're laying down on the cold wood used to comfort you through the storm and how they used to hate the summer heat.

You'd want the outsider to know that they once lived.

The floorboards creak as Hobie lays the last body on the navy boat's deck, kneeling by the side to say his final farewell. After a moment, he stands up, knuckles so tightly closed that you can see his hands shake from where you're standing.

He cuts the rope tied to the mast, the sails unfurl, the slight breeze making it move slowly. Hobie jumps back to the revenge before the navy ship sails too far.

With his crew right behind him, you all watch as the ship sails for the final time. Hobie takes a musket from Gwen, they share a comforting look briefly before he takes aim at the ship. The shot echoes out, hitting the barrel full of gunpowder directly. Fire immediately bellows, engulfing the wooden ship.

The fire cackles further away but it still warms your cheeks. Orange and yellow dancing on the water as the mast burns and falls into the depths with a splash.

A soft voice sings a mellow tune, the lyrics full of sorrow and longing for what they've lost.

You look over to the source of the song, Yuri has her eyes glued to the flaming ship, her cadence echoes out to the open sea, the rest join in, goosebumps flare up on your arms. They sing about how the sea has claimed them but they aren't truly lost for they still sail the endless depths with the stars as their guide.

The singing ends and as everyone goes their separate ways, Hobie stays behind, watching as the fire devours the ship. With one last look, you head to your cabin, head full of thoughts that you'd rather not let it fester or it might consume you like the fire outside razing the once mighty ship.

The tune still stays with you until your head hits the soft pillow, you wonder how many times they've sung it together.

That night you wake up to someone screaming from above, cursing Hobie's name. Frantic footsteps dance above, you can hear a gun clicking. Recognizing the former lieutenant's voice, you fall back under the covers, jumping in place as you hear the gun go off followed by a splash and then a sudden silence.

For the next two days, you get acclimated to your life on the people's revenge. Having some sort of routine. In the morning you go to the infirmary to help clean their wounds and change their bandages, single handedly stopping infection. The survival rate of the injured has increased tenfold with your help. They greet you with a smile every morning, sometimes calling you ‘doc’ and you correct them everytime.

You haven't seen Hobie the past two days, always getting glimpses of him in the halls as he turns a corner. None of the crew have seen him out either. You wonder if he's had anything to eat in the past few days.

You've encountered how grief could consume someone, you hope you don't witness it again.

At lunch, you cook with Finn in the galley, making conversation, telling him stories you've heard during your journeys as he grunts and huffs in reply. You've gotten used to the quiet in the kitchen with only the waves outside and the bubbling pot filling your ears.

The crew have gotten better after the loss, they've started laughing again, making jokes and even including you to the conversation. You keep finding yourself chuckling among them during dinner.

After the day ends, you bring Pavitr his tea as he gets ready for another long night shift of sailing. As you head down to the library, you check in on Miles as he toils on a map, studying every detail, making sure the ship's on track. You bring him his cup, he's stopped looking at the tea suspiciously after the third time you've given him one.

You hear arguing in Hobie's cabin again, the voices are different each time you pass through but you don't dare eavesdrop, you swear that man has eyes everywhere.

The library has become your sanctuary, not the cabin you're temporarily placed in. You get a weird feeling everytime you enter the small room, like you don't quite belong in the obviously lived in space. There's tiny trinkets hidden on shelves, some are quite peculiar, unlike anything you've ever seen. You keep finding drawings and journal pages tucked in the corners and the bed frame, the ink already too faded to read or to even make out the art. You surmise the old resident of the cabin pushed the papers in there to stop the draft.

As you sit down on the lumpy green armchair of the library, the oil lamp illuminating the pages with only the moon as your companion; you get sucked into the yellowed pages, burrowing into every word printed, making a home for yourself in between the letters written by authors you'll never meet in your lifetime.

A soft knock brings your soul back to the old library, your eyes adjust in the darkness, his silhouette leaning casually on the doorway.

“So this is where you vanish off to every night” you can barely make out his face but you know he's smirking by the way his lip piercing glints in the lamp.

“Am I not allowed, Captain?” he chuckles. The sound reverberated around the room. A ghost of a smile passes by your lips.

“Keep callin' me like that and you might find yourself having special treatment.”

“And what exactly is the special treatment?”

Hobie shrugs, raising a finger up as he lists them down. “Havin' your own cabin, getting fed twice in a day, access to the ship's library, did I mention staying dry and alive?”

“You've mentioned it once or twice.” You sigh, gathering courage for what you're about to ask. “I've got a question, Cap.”

Hobie scoffs, “Heard you've been asking those a lot. One of these days your curious arse will get you killed.” You shrug, ignoring his comment. “You know I'd hunt you down if any of this information gets to the navy right?”

“I know, and I'm not a fucking snitch especially after you've kept your word of letting me stay even though you did use me as bait when you were interrogating the navy man.”

“Come off it,” he clicks his tongue. “I did not use you as bait.”

“Sure, and you don't have trust issues, Hobie Brown”

“Likewise, Y/N asshole.” he enters the room and into the light. You don't miss his snarky nickname for you. “Can a person with trust issues do this?” Hobie tosses a bag right on your lap.

You recognize the satchel, blinking in surprise “My bag!” You scan the contents down to the small bag of coins finding everything is still in its place. “Did you happen to see a necklace? It has a circular pendant with a bird engraved on it.”

“No, it doesn't ring a bell. Trust me somethin’ like that would've left a mark.”

You frown, hope diminished. Hobie gestures towards the seat in front of you, asking permission. You nod, letting him in your personal bubble.

“What are you reading?” He sits across from you on the rickety rocking chair, groaning, knees cracking.

“Just a story about some Greek hero that my m– I used to read back then.”

He nods, not mentioning the blunder. “I don't think Theseus is just some bloke.” You chuckle softly. “Y’know there's a much better read than that over…” he twists around, taking a book right behind him. “Here” he hands it off to you, calloused fingers grazing yours.

Turning the small book around, you shake your head with a subtle smile. “‘How to conquer your fears volume five: Learn how to swim by Sir Riordan of Canterbury’ Very funny”

Hobie stifles a laugh, a genuine smile across his face. “Thought it was appropriate.” he crosses a leg over the other, shoulders relaxed.

“What was your question, scuttlebutt? Ask me before I change my mind, ‘m feeling generous today.”

Your hands play with the spine of the old book. “Why haven't you killed me yet? After what George said, why didn't you believe him that I'm a traitor?”

He visibly stiffened, “You can't be called a traitor if you were never part of the crew, eh?” your heart thumps louder as he observes your every move.

“Also that's two questions,” the moonlight hits his fatigued face, you stare into those eyes that threaten to bring you under, but you swim out just in time before it drags you down. “good thing they have the same answers.”

You blink slowly, fingers nervously pick at the dry skin on your thumb.

“Your rucksack,” he points with chin. “I didn't pay enough attention to it when you first arrived but when I had my suspicions I had to check. First the coins or the lack thereof. If you were a navy spy they'd give you enough to use it as a bargaining tool.”

“You calling me poor?”

“Yes” he doesn't miss a beat. “Second your shoes, the bloody thing is thinner than Finn's flat bread.” you suck in your teeth in annoyance. “And that–” he leans closer, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Your fuckin' attitude, you didn't even try to play nice. You just did what you were told so you could survive. The only time you're actually nice is when nobody else is lookin'” you scoff while he continues on.

“Don't think I didn't notice you during the funeral or whenever you give Pav and Miles their tea. You stay along the edges of the crew, lingering, not really looking for any approval. But you're there, acting like you don't care but based on the careful stitches and gentle hands, you care, a lot.”

You grit your teeth, letting him read you like an open book that you've kept hidden behind the shelves, under all the more interesting books.

“Spies ease their way into the crew with effort, you did it unintentionally. You didn't hesitate saving Gwen, you could've done anything else in an attempt to escape but you helped and you stayed. You're not a spy, I think you just want to belong somewhere—”

You cut him off, “What makes you think I want to join your rag tag group?”

Hobie looks like he's about to swallow you whole, ignoring your last snarky comment, he continues his rant. “You want to belong even if it’s on a damn pirate ship. You're a genuine stowaway.”

“Alright, you're quite perceptive then, but that doesn't answer my question on why you haven't killed me yet.” you bravely face him. “You said it yourself, you would kill me if any information about you and the crew comes out from me. And you told me I needed the coin so what's stopping me from going to the nearby governor and selling off the information the moment we land?”

“Because you're running too,” his eyes shine in the low light, looking at you mischievously. “I don't know from whom or if you're wanted like us but I do know you're not gonna risk your freedom for a few coins.”

Hobie beams at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And lastly, I'm gonna need you before I let you go.”

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 ❤️

Speed Drive

🎉500 celebration fic🎉

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

Word count: 6.2k

Synopsis: You come along with Hobie on a road trip to Glasgow. Aka the fic where I squeezed in multiple dream dates of mine lol

Tags: Use of Y/N sparingly, no specific physical description of the reader, cw food mention, reader is a history nerd (definitely not projecting), the reader can't drive, sunshine! Reader. Suggestive content, lovestruck Hobie, Established relationship. FLUFF.

A/n: I did some research on the places they went to, if there are any inaccuracies on the geography/ information, please note that I've never been to any of these places, I'm only basing my knowledge on what I've researched and what I've studied in uni.

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

Navigation

Masterlist

You grunt as you lift the heavy amp, back straightened so you don't accidentally sprain yourself. Waddling towards Hobie's van, amp sitting heavily near your waist. The sun is just about rising on the horizon, painting the pavement deep blue. The water laps at the house boat's side, the sound familiar, adding to the relaxed atmosphere where you and Hobie are the only ones awake in the entire city. The early morning air nips at your skin, leaving goosebumps on the back of your neck.

Suddenly, strong familiar arms wrap around the amp. "What are you doin'? Told you I've got them" Hobie clicks his tongue, taking the amp from you.

He's annoyed but not at you, he's irritated that he got the short end of the stick, ending up waking up early (too early) to load the instruments. You don't take it to heart, knowing his annoyance isn't because of you. It would've been better if he just helped his band mates load them in, but lady luck wasn't on his side. Unfortunately he also got driving duties, now he has to drive seven hours to get to Glasgow for the band's very first big gig. Leaving the rest of the band to take (a very comfortable) train ride at a later hour. Hobie's a bit jealous on that end, he would've liked for you to see the sights on a train instead of sitting on his old van that creaks when he steers a little too far to the left.

The only silver lining about the impromptu road trip is you. Seven hours on the road with just you is pure bliss, if only he didn't have to wake up in this ungodly hour, he would've been in a better mood.

"Sorry, you were busy loading in the drums. Thought I would help" you look up at him through equally tired eyes. A cloud of breath escaping when you talk. Hobie zips your jacket further up, keeping you warm.

He heaves the amp on one arm, effortlessly carrying it. "Don't be, you're just trying to help." Hobie feels guilty for clicking his tongue at you. He holds your cold hand, sharing his warmth.

"You're definitely not a morning person" you squeeze his hand. "grumpy" bringing his hand to your lips, you leave a chaste kiss over his knuckles. "Is that the last one?"

"Think so," he looks around the area, finding nothing else to load inside the van. "Don't forget to bring in the thermos, you're turning into an icicle"

"Okay, I made us sandwiches" you smile at him, swinging your intertwined hands.

"What kind?" He stomps down his grumpy demeanor at the sound of breakfast.

"Lots!" You grin excitedly at him, Hobie wonders where you got your sudden burst of energy.

"Fuckin' hell, no wonder why you were up so late. You made every conceivable sandwich in the world" he jokes, your happy energy spreading to him.

You chuckle, "not every single one. You have the first pick for waking up so early"

"Yeah? Even though you threatened to splash me with water?" He raises a pierced brow, a smile curling on his lips.

You wince, "yeah, sorry. It finally got you to wake up though!"

"Yeah, yeah, and here I thought you would wake me up with a kiss"

"I did! Like five fucking times. You wouldn't even stir, I got desperate, okay!" You laugh, it echoes around the silent neighborhood.

"I believe you, can you get our bags from inside? I'll warm up the van" Hobie reluctantly lets go of your hand. You feel cold already.

"Get it nice and toasty for me?"

"What are you? Banana bread?"

"Funny" you point at him playfully, walking backwards.

"Don't forget the bloody Thermos!" He yells after you, following you with his gaze, making sure you don't trip because you decided to walk backwards.

You wink at him, "okay, dad!"

"Lil shit" he says with a smile.

—

Munching on your sandwich, Hobie cranked up the heating, you're now warm and toasty in your seat. The leather squeaks when you move to feed Hobie a bite of your sandwich. He *insists that he prefers yours even though you made an identical one. Hobie's free hand is glued to your thigh, squeezing it from time to time, making sure you don't fall asleep on him.

Hobie keeps his eyes on the road, trying to take a bite of the sandwich that you've teasingly moved a few inches away from his waiting mouth.

He bites at air, "Oi, what the fuck" you snicker, biting your lip. Hobie immediately figures out what you're doing, "don't make me swerve this fucking car into that ditch"

"Jeez, okay!" You laugh, leaning closer (as much as the seat belt would allow you to) Hobie takes a generous bite, "you're still grumpy? Do you need more coffee?" You rub at the corner of his mouth with your thumb, cleaning the bread crumbs. He hums appreciatively.

"I don't think that coffee's workin' too well" he says while chewing. "We're not even out of the city yet" Hobie huffs.

"Do you want me to drive for a bit?" You wait for his reaction with a tiny smirk.

"You haven't got a license," He says matter-of-fact, "you don't even know how to drive" he doesn't sound condescending or making fun of you, his voice laced with endearment. He makes a mental note to teach you once you two get back home. His fingers pinches you through your pants.

"I'm a fast learner" you joke, Hobie cracks a sleep deprived smile, oh he's definitely not a morning person. "Give it time, you basically drank the entire thermos. Maybe some music could help?"

"If it's your music, I'm gonna fall asleep on the wheel" He squeezes your thigh, just in case you didn't get his joke.

"If it's your music, It's going to burst my eardrums this early in the morning" you quip back.

"Nice. Sandwich me, love" he opens his mouth, darting his eyes from the road to you before his gaze goes back to watching the road.

You lean again, holding up the almost finished sandwich. "Do you know who invented the sandwich?" Hobie eats the entire thing in one bite, almost taking your fingers off. You glare playfully at him.

He chuckles, mouth full. "No, who?"

"Lord Sandwich, the fourth earl of Sandwich in the eighteenth century"

"You're fucking with me" Hobie takes a left turn, the van creaks, instruments in the back sliding a bit. You watch his hand turn the steering wheel, mesmerized by how his large hand grips the wheel. His rings don't help, you tilt your head, watching intently.

He pinches your thigh, getting your attention. "Hey, where'd you go?"

"Sorry, I was trying to recall the rest of the fact" you blink back to reality.

"Will you be like this the entire trip? Watching my bloody hands, you perv" He read you like an open book.

"What– I wasn't, okay! I was–" you fumble with your words.

He has a playful smirk on his lips. "You were what? Fantasizing my hands wrapped around your–"

"Stop!" You hold his hand that's on your thigh, so he could stop his teasing.

"What? I was gonna say 'wrapped around your hand', honestly what did you think I was gonna say?" He asks you playfully, shoving your shoulder lightly.

"it's too early for this shit" you mumble with a playful pout, intertwining your fingers with his.

He laughs, eyes crinkling into a smile. Hobie brings your hand to his lips, placing a quick peck on your warm hand. "Ah, too early for it? Maybe later then?"

You groan but your smile and the twinkle in your eyes says otherwise.

"What were you talking about? 'Bout the sandwich bloke?"

"John Montagu, he invented the sandwich because he didn't have time to eat a proper meal while he was playing cards and working."

"Bloody rich lord" he grumbles with malice.

"Hey, if not for him you wouldn't be eating one of my Sandwiches"

"I love eating your sandwich" he raises a teasing brow, proud of his innuendo.

"What is up with you this morning?" You laugh, playing with one of his rings, twirling the metal around his index finger. "Seriously, did I accidentally make you coffee with something in it? Is that why it says 'special' in the packaging?"

Hobie laughs loudly, echoing around the van. "You think they'd put an aphrodisiac in coffee?" He lets go of your hand for a bit while he steers the wheel with both hands. "Like ginkgo biloba or somethin'?"

You reach for his free hand immediately after he lets go of the wheel to lay it back on your thigh. "No like pistachio nuts or–" you try to think of another example, "— crab" you giggle when the word escapes your lips.

"Crab?!" He rides with your bit. "Must be some expensive bloody coffee, lovey" Hobie rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. "No wonder I tasted something fishy in that coffee"

You gasp, feigning offense. "You did not!" contributing to the bit.

"Now who's crabby this morning, huh?" He chuckles.

You roll your eyes at his pun, "argh, can't believe I have to endure seven more hours of this" teasing him, your sentence has no ounce of truth in it whatsoever. More than happy to accompany him on the trip.

"It'll be the best seven hours of your life, sweets" He looks at you through the rearview mirror with a smirk.

You can read him like a book too. Narrowing your eyes, you can just tell he has something planned, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

"You've got something up your sleeves? Spill it, Hobart"

He sideways glances at you, hiding his knowing smile. "Don't know what you're on about" Hobie clears his throat, playing it cool.

"Nope, I know you, babe. That fucking smirk of yours, I know it!" You lightly poke at his cheek.

"Lovey, I haven't got a scooby doo. I'm just here drivin' trying to get us to Glasgow"

"You get very detailed when you're lying. I know your tells!"

"That so?" He makes a mental note of what you've said, which might be handy the next time he has a surprise. Hobie opens the radio, cd already inside, it plays a loud tune, drowning out your questions.

"Hey!" You yell through the loud music. Hobie almost gives himself away with a laugh, he bites his lip to stifle it. "Whatever– wherever you're planning to stop at some backroad tourist attraction, we better not be too late for the show!"

Hobie cranks the volume up, "What? Can't hear you through the music" he gestures towards his ear.

You press the 'volume down' button, covering your ears. Now you're definitely both wide awake. "You're an ass, you can't have any more of my sandwiches" huffing, you grab a ziplock of sandwich just to tease him more.

Banter fills the van, laughs and flirty words entertain you until sleep comes back to haunt you. Unexpectedly falling asleep, Hobie lets you snooze away in his passenger seat. Avoiding potholes, slowing down when passing a speed bump. He even uses his arm to act as your second seat belt whenever he turns sharply, hand cradling your head so you don't fall off the headrest.

Hobie has the urge to wake you though, but he needs you at full energy for what he's planning on taking you. Eyes drifting to the van's console, he gazes at your camera, taking a mental note to remember to give you the extra roll of films he bought for you.

—

Hobie shuts off the engine, eyes bleary, he clicks the seatbelt off of him. He has the urge to close his eyes and join you in slumberland. One look at your sleeping face almost pushes him off the edge.

He leans closer to you, hand cupping your jaw, he taps your face with his thumb. "Love" you don't stir, eyes still closed. Hobie's so attuned to you that he knows you're not faking it.

He kisses you chastely, warm lips puckering to wake you up. Hobie calls your name this time, poking your cheek. You still sleep, lips slightly parted. He's absolutely jealous of you right now. Peppering your face with kisses, he fully intends to wake you up. Defeated, you still lay asleep.

A bright idea pops up in his mind. Pulling away, Hobie grips the steering wheel with both hands, arms length away from him. He screams bloody murder like he's about to hit a wall.

You jump away, yelling for a second before seeing the parking lot bare, van parked safely. You clutch your chest, eyes now wide awake. Slapping his arm, you glare at him. Hobie has a shit-eating grin on his face, arm raised to shield himself. His laugh echoes.

"You fucker!" Slap "I could've" slap "gotten a heart attack!" You huff with a pout.

"I'm sorry, c'mere" he tries to hug you, standing your ground, you cross your arms on your chest. "You wouldn't wake up! I'm sorry, please?" Hobie flexes his fingers, face apologetic.

"Are we here? Did I sleep the entire time?"

"No, lovey. We're at a stopover" he points outside with his head. "'m really sorry. If there's any consolation I think you'll like this place"

Your eyes zero in on the sign, reading it loudly, "Stratford Upon-Avon?!" Screeching excitedly. You click off your seat belt with urgency, with the intention of leaving Hobie hanging as revenge. You'll kiss him thank you later anyway.

Opening the door, you step off, stretching your legs and breathing in fresh air. Warmer air greets you, a much kinder one from a few hours ago. Trainers bouncing off in excitement. Greenery and old timey Houses fill your vision, adding to your eagerness.

Hobie joins your side, your sling bag over his broad shoulder. Hiding his disappointment from your lack of hug, he only blames himself for scaring the crap out of you.

"Y/n." The lack of the term of endearment alerts you, whirling around, you see his shoulders slumped, face clearly hiding his true feelings behind a straight face. You know he'll feel worse if you don't try to reassure him. So you do, hand signaling him to hold yours.

He blames the early morning for making him all lovesick, if it was the later hours, Hobie would've stuck to teasing you about your reaction. With a sigh and a weak roll of his eyes, he steps in your arms instead of just holding your hand, head resting on your shoulder, yawning as you knead his aching back; you indulge him.

Good thing it's still too early for tourists to flock the area, save for a few scattered ones looking for a place to have breakfast at.

"Apology accepted," leaning back, you straighten the knots on his forehead. "You need better coffee" you scrunch your nose at his closed eyes.

"Or sleep" he grumbles.

"Do you want to sleep for a bit inside the van?" You feel bad for sleeping the entire time. "I'll stay with you don't worry. I won't fall asleep this time."

He shakes his head, slapping his own face to wake himself up. Jumping up and down with you still in his arms. You don't question it, jumping along with him. Metal accessories clinking together, boots thumping hard on the pavement.

Spluttering, he shakes his head vigorously. You giggle at his face.

"Alright, 'm good. Let's go get coffee"

—

You lead a very sleep deprived Hobie by the sleeve of his hoodie, too warm for his leather one yet too cold for just a t-shirt. He lets you drag him along, not because he's disinterested, sleepiness just got the best of him.

Gasping, you point at a unique streetlight. Little statues of a donkey and a man sitting on the metal sides, a curious owl placed on top, looking down on the street.

"Look at that donkey with a guitar!"

Hobie squints through the haziness, "think that's a lute. Kinda looks like you." He still finds the time to tease you even with heavy eyes. A smirk playing on his lips, watching you closely.

"You're the owl then" you let go of his sleeve, taking the camera from your bag, positioning and angling it for the best lighting. He watches your face full of concentration with a faint endearing smile.

Click.

"Got it" you smile, spotting a stand full of maps and information about the place. "Oohh" skipping over the display, you take one. "Hobie, look! Babe?" You look up from the pamphlet when Hobie doesn't reply back.

He walks towards you at a snail's pace. Grunting back in acknowledgement.

You wince, practically feeling his tiredness ooze out of him. "Let's get that coffee. There's a café near here."

"Overpriced coffee" he could only mumble out a protest. While you guide him towards the shop for some much needed refuel. It's not like he has any other choices, all the coffee shops near the area are unnecessarily expensive, save for gas station coffee– which is too far to get to right now, he might fall asleep while driving to it.

Hobie can't let himself drive through the fog of sleep, especially that you're with him. So he surrenders with the promise of getting his pep back so he can drive you safely to the next destination.

—

After gulping down two cups of coffee that made Hobie seethe after hearing the price, he leaves you on the table to go to the loo, your eyes glued on the leaflet, absorbing every word and information on it.

Hobie makes his way back, now wide awake, he watches you put too much milk on your cup, too distracted with reading– it overflows, spilling the hot liquid on the table. He has never loved you more when you jump in your seat, quietly yelping, clumsily wiping at the table with a napkin. He shakes his head with a fond smile and soft eyes.

Hobie asks for more napkins from the cashier, promptly heading towards your table. He helps you wordlessly, wiping, avoiding spilling any more expensive tea.

"Sorry" you expect Hobie to chastise you for spilling your drink, instead, he looks at you with concern and fondness.

"You alright? Didn't spill any on you?"

You smile softly, thankful eyes staring back at him. "I'm okay, it's not that hot anyway"

"Sure?" He takes his tea stained finger on the tip of your nose, leaving a wet patch over it. Green tea wafts your nostrils. "There's some on you"

"Ack!" Wiping it with a clean tissue, you roll your eyes; faint smile telling him otherwise.

"That's how it is then?" He chuckles, satisfied with your reaction. He sits down next to you, drying his hands on a napkin. Arm instinctively flying around your shoulder, holding you close. "Where to go next?"

"Hmm?" You hum, drinking what's left of your tea, "I thought you had it planned?"

"I planned on stopping here, thought you got the next part since you've always wanted to go here, y'know planned the entire trip in your head before"

For a second he thinks that you're disappointed in him for not planning ahead. The thought stops the second you beam at him, hands on his shoulder to anchor yourself on him. lips puckering to kiss him on the cheek quickly since you're in public. Hobie doesn't protest, leaning towards the kiss, angling his face so that your lips just about graze the corner of his lip. You know exactly what he's doing, you let him, moving slyly closer to his lips.

"Oh, you know me so well!" You say excitedly, pulling away, shaking his shoulder for emphasis. "First stop! The river Avon!"

—

"The ferry's closed" you come back to his side with a frown. Gusts of cool air rushes past, rustling your jacket, the leaves on the trees whisper and rustle in the wind, big fluffy clouds providing shade. The river laps at the dock, adding to your downturned lips. "The employee also said Shakespeare's house and the other houses are closed since it's too early"

"We'll just have to come back on our way home then" your frown turns back into a smile, poking his sides teasingly.

"You'll take me back here?" You say with a smirk, playful eyes smile back at him, finger poking his waist. "Ohhh, you're so smitten"

He takes your poking finger with a roll of his eyes, hiding the growing smile on his lips with a scoff. "Yeah, yeah. Where to now, tour guide?"

"The butterfly farm is open early. Is that okay?"

"Why not?"

"We have to walk there, it's a bit of a trek" you shrug, "it's okay if we don't have time for it"

He calculates in his head, if you only stay an hour more, you two can be right back on schedule; just on time to get to Glasgow without being late for the show.

"We've got time to spare"

"You sure? I don't want us to be late" toe to toe with Hobie, finger still encased in his hand, you ask him anyway even though you know what his answer will be.

"Yes, let's go before people flock this place"

Hand in hand, you take in the sights, stopping from time to time to shoot pictures of the historical houses and buildings. Hobie becomes your model, posing like a natural in front of the lens. He wrangles the camera from you to take your picture right in front of Shakespeare's home and school. Shyness slowly edging away for a while as Hobie hypes you up. Instructing you to pose here and there.

You ran out of film before reaching the butterfly garden, stopping right in front of the royal Shakespeare theatre. The red bricks and dome like structure looms overhead.

"Aww, I think we used it all"

"'ve got more" he takes an extra roll of film from his pocket. You stare at him like he just did magic right in front of your eyes.

"Where'd you get this?" You say, bewildered.

"Brought it with me" he says nonchalantly like he didn't do the sweetest thing just for you.

"Have I told you lately that you're really amazing?" You load film inside the camera, quickly snapping a picture of his smug face.

"No, maybe you should say it often"

So enamored, chest filled with love, you agree. "Mm-hmm, maybe I should. Now, can you stand right there while I take a picture of your amazing face"

—

You finally make it to the butterfly garden. An arch with a large colourful butterfly display greets you. Inside is a beautiful glass greenhouse with a dome ceiling, it shines brightly in the early morning sun, adding to your excitement.

Once paid for the tickets, you and Hobie head inside, you're practically jumping off the glass walls. Hobie's hand leads you inside, preventing you from sliding on the gravel and breaking your ankle on the rough ground.

You're in complete awe of the place, it looked beautiful outside but nothing compares to it once inside. The sun glows brilliantly, bouncing its rays on the glass ceiling and walls. Flora and greenery as far as your eyes could see, strategically placed around the massive greenhouse. The flowery and sweet smells entranced you to explore the entire place, not to mention the colorful butterflies in all shapes and sizes fluttering all around you. Birds make their morning sing-song adding to the fantastical atmosphere.

The look on your face makes waking up a few hours earlier than scheduled makes it all worth it for Hobie. He softly smiles at you, hands clasped comfortably over yours. Eyes sparkling, mirroring yours, he guides you further inside. You let him, neck craned up, watching as butterflies swirl overhead.

Gravel crunches under your footsteps, Hobie stops walking. You almost bumped into him, he tugs at your hand, pointing down on the shrubbery.

"What is that?" You squint, jumping when something green slithers further away from you two and into the thick greenery. "Woah!"

He chuckles at your reaction. You fumble for your camera to capture a photo of the iguana lounging in the warmth, scales as green as the leaves around it.

Click.

"Look, it's you!" You point at its sharp spikes, looking at Hobie with a teasing smile.

"Careful, he bites" he taunts back, making you retract your finger back.

Strolling around more, you take so many pictures, the film Hobie gave you is almost full. You've even snuck in candid pictures of Hobie, and by god, he looked great in all of them. While all your pictures looked like you were at a field trip with your parents, posing with a goofy smile on your face as a butterfly lands on your shoulder.

It's been almost an hour of exploring, so you hold his hand again to tug him towards the exit with a promise of going back, without a time constraint next time.

Crisp air greets you two, hand in hand, you walk by the river, watching as ducks and swans swim on the surface. Their quacking and honking gets louder and louder as they notice you, asking for food.

"Maybe we should've brought rice with us" You mumble, looking at the birds with an apologetic look as if they can understand you.

"Do you think if you fall in they'll eat you?" Hobie asks with a serious look on his face, a small smirk curling on his lips, the only indication that he's fully joking.

"I don't think they'll like me very much, I'm full of bread, which isn't nutritious for 'em" you playfully quipped back, squeezing his hand. He chuckles at your comment.

Hobie slyly moves you away from the river, just in case you actually fall in. He guides you to his right, so that he's the one nearest to the water instead of you. Hand holding your left one, you lean to his side, full of affection in your chest, you softly kiss his shoulder. Whispering softly a 'thank you'

—

You've been quiet for an hour, Hobie side eyes you from time to time. The sudden silence makes him concerned, moreso when your face has contorted into a grimace, eyebrows furrowed, you bite your lips with a sharp inhale.

He's worried since you've been extremely chatty an hour ago, voice filling the van, you help him stay awake. Well until he hit a speed bump that made you squeak out.

"You alright, lovey?" Hobie asks with a squeeze of your thigh.

You sit with a fluffy blanket over your lap, a neck pillow under your head. You look comfortable enough, so why do you look like you're in pain?

You exhale, looking at him through the corners of your eyes without moving your neck. "Mm-hmm"

"Mm-hmm? What's wrong? Is the seat not warm enough?" Hobie looks at you through the rearview mirror, seeing your knitted eyebrows.

You ball the blanket under your knuckles. "I'm okay"

He nods, unconvinced.

After a few moments of smooth driving on the highway, cars drive past, you squeeze your thighs together. Controlling your breathing, you try not to think of water.

"Love" he calls for you, "did you see that car with the flame decals on it?" Chuckling softly, he places his hand over your thigh again. Hobie feels the tight muscles under your pants, eyebrow raising in question.

"Y/n" he snickers under his breath. Hands kneading softly at your thigh. Hobie translates the squeezing of your thighs together and your elevated breathing, "I swear if you're hot and bothered, I can't park right here–"

"I need to pee" you say embarrassed, avoiding his eyes. Only finally admitting it so he doesn't actually think you're aroused for some reason.

Hobie laughs loudly, hand slapping the steering wheel. "I told you to go before we left"

"Hobie," you whine. "Not funny, I've been holding it for so long"

"Alright," he clams up, still smiling at your predicament. "There's no gas station near here, love. We're too far away to turn around but we're thirty minutes away from Manchester. We can stop there"

"Thirty?!" You're in agony, hands tucked in between your legs in an attempt to tamp down the need to go.

Hobie moves his hand from your thigh to the back of your neck, kneading softly. He presses the gas, if he hurries you can make it in twenty five without breaking any traffic laws. He makes a joke about you peeing in a bottle which you only glared in return.

Twenty minutes later, you're folded in half on your seat, head layed on your lap, trying to distract yourself by counting the threads in your blanket.

"Almost there, love. Hold on" Hobie pats your head in reassurance. You groan out a reply.

—

You jumped from your seat after a second of Hobie parking the car in front of a gas station. Hand tightening around your travel sized toilet paper.

Hobie patiently waits for you outside the door. Fingers fiddling with his web shooters tucked under his sleeve.

The door creaks open. His neck cranes up to meet your relieved face. "Success?"

"Remind me to not drink anything until we make it to Glasgow."

"You still need to drink some water y'know" he walks back to the car with your pinkies linked together.

"Are we still far?"

"A bit, let's stop by Liverpool to eat lunch" he opens the passenger door for you. You smile sweetly at the gesture.

"Thank you, sorry for being annoying" You hug his waist with one arm briefly just before you hop to your seat.

"Not annoying, tell me next time, yeah?"

"Okay" you lean down to press a kiss on his lips, savoring the moment. He hums into it, his hand right over your shoulder so that you don't fall off.

—

As the van passes through Manchester, you spot the canals, houseboats parked on the side, you get reminded of your shared home.

"Look! That one looks like ours, same color too"

"Missing home already?"

"Kind of. Wish we could stop here, they've got the oldest library in Britain" You lay your head over the window, watching as landmarks pass by in a blur.

"They also have a serial killer too"

You scoff, "in this day and age?" Looking at Hobie's face, you don't see any lie to his comment. Your face falls, "wait, you serious?"

He shrugs, side eyeing you. You have absolutely no idea if he's joking or not, Hobie's good at acting like that, especially if he's teasing you.

"Hobie, you're joking right?"

"Hmm?"

"Is there actually a killer on the loose here?" You instinctively check the door locks.

He doesn't respond, adding to your fear. You completely miss the mischievous look on his face though.

"I don't want to stop here anymore" you mumble.

"We could always take a detour right now–"

"Nope, no thank you" you answer lightning quick.

He hides his smile behind his hand. Maybe he'll tell you all about it on the return trip.

—

An hour later you're sitting down outside a local restaurant in Chinatown, waiting for your food to arrive. The air blows softly, fluttering your lashes. You close your eyes, head resting on your hand, elbow over the table. You can see the faint outline of the Liverpool cathedral underneath the fog. It's gotten a few degrees colder since you've arrived, the streets shine from the earlier rain, petrichor wafts your senses.

Two bowls of warm noodles are placed in front of you. Side dishes, dimsum and xiaolongbao makes your stomach rumble at the sight and savory smell.

"Thank you," you smile at the waiter.

Wondering where Hobie went, lo and behold, he emerges, walking towards you with a paper cup of convenience store coffee. "Food is here, you still need coffee?"

He sits down across from you. "Yeah, needed another boost" Hobie scrunches his nose before standing up again, moving his chair right next to you, avoiding it from scraping the concrete. He sits back down, arm thrown over the back of your chair.

You look at him with a fond smile, heart eyes staring back at Hobie.

"What?" He challenges you with a raised eyebrow and faint smirk.

"Nothin'" you shove him lightly with your shoulder.

"Hm" he hums, you translate it to an 'obviously'

You eat with content, letting him steal some of your broth from your bowl, in exchange, he gives you a dimsum from his share.

—

You do your best at reading the booklet about Liverpool that you've bought before leaving the city while the vehicle moves.

"The guy who designed the cathedral is the same person who designed the red telephone box"

Hobie listens intently with coffee coursing through his veins, stomach full of food, he's properly fueled to drive for more than four hours to Glasgow. His band mates better be there already when you two arrive or he'll wring their necks.

There won't be any more stops until you get to the destination since there'll only be the highway to drive on. It stretches far, cars whirring past. With Sprawling green hills, and mountains curved around the highway makes the drive much more serene. Powerlines on the sides ground you, making it all seem familiar. The weather is foggy, blanketing the England to Scotland border.

The van rattles as Hobie swerves the car to the right. He plants his hand back in your knee, palm circling the curve of it affectionately.

"Ohh, they've got a beach" you stare at the picture of the nature reserve with its sandy windswept dunes, and grassy knolls.

"Add that to the list"

"Okay" you take out a pen from the glovebox, biting the cap off with your teeth, you scribble it on the back of the booklet where there's an empty space. Using your thighs as a table, you add the destination on your little list right under 'old thatch tavern'

"There," you hum happily.

"Is there anything on there 'bout Glasgow?" He kneads your knee with his knuckle.

"A tiny bit" you flip to the back, "they've got a mural trail, we might pass through it on the way. Ooh they also have a glasshouse."

You two pass the time by giving him facts about the places you've passed. Hobie listens in, adding his own knowledge to the mix. An hour later, you're both jamming to his music cassette. You try to make him laugh by banging your head to the song. Whipping your head too hard, you end up banging it on the dashboard.

With wide eyes and laughter threatening to spill out, Hobie comforts you with his palm over your forehead.

You two chat about with you feeding him crisps in between, exchanging stories and playing 'I spy' Hobie ends up winning with his enhanced vision, you challenge him again with a huff. He still wins the second and third round. His prize? Hobie tells you he's gonna hold onto it until you reach Glasgow.

At hour three, the car makes a metal groaning sound in the middle of the highway, you and Hobie looked at each other in fear for a second, silent and waiting for the van to keel over. You both sigh in relief after a few good minutes of silence with the car still running smoothly. Good thing it did because you have no idea how you'll make it to Glasgow if it did decide to just die in the middle of the road.

Before you know it, Hobie parks the van near the venue. Clicking off his seatbelt while you stretch in your seat. Hobie leans towards you, elbow right over the center console, he helps you with your seatbelt before promptly moving his hand to your cheek to face him.

"Can I help you?" You giggle, pecking the tip of his nose. "Are you claiming your prize?"

"This isn't my prize, lovey." He softly says against your lips. "That'll wait for later"

"Okay," you feel like your cheeks are on fire.

"This is my thanks" He meets your waiting lips, moving with yours. Cupping his jaw, thumb rubbing his cheeks, you breathe through your nose so the kiss would last longer yet it still leaves you breathless. You feel his hand around your nape, deepening the kiss further.

Hobie pulls away, seeing your pupils completely dilated, chest heaving for air.

"Thanks for what?" You ask breathlessly.

"Comin' with me" with his finger, he wipes the sheen off your lips, it stays there for a second, savoring, longing. For everything.

"You could've asked me to go anywhere and I still would've gone. As long as it's with you."

He answers with another kiss, laced with so much love and thankfulness, you feel it all through it.

A sudden knock has you pulling away, Hobie clicks his tongue at the intrusion. Turning around, he spots his bandmates whistling and wiggling their eyebrows. One was making a gesture that made you hide your face.

"You fuckin' wankers!" Hobie opens the door, slamming it on his friends' faces, they scatter, hooting and hollering, taunting him.

You watch as Hobie play fights with them, arm choking his bass player. With a lopsided smile on your face, excitement bubbles in your chest, the return trip and his promise makes you excited more than anything.

A/N: this fic is long overdue that we're at 700 already! Thank you all so much for reading and interacting with my little stories! Love all 700 of you ❤️

Threaded Through

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

Word count: 6.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, CW food mention, Drinking, CW spiders, TW arachnophobia, Suggestive content, Fluff.

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Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 9 >>> CHAPTER 10

"Hobie!" You whisper yell, "what are you doing?" Eyes scanning the dark, ears perking up at the chains rattling.

"Relax, no one's here" Hobie slips through the metal gate where the chains of the lock stretched enough to give him room to wiggle himself inside. "C'mon then" he extends his hand to you, flexing his fingers impatiently. The dirty sign on the gate reads 'no trespassing' adding to your worry.

You tap your foot, biting your lip, looking behind the abandoned theme park. "Nuh uh, nope" shaking your head, you're sure something ran past behind a decrepit tent. "I'm not dying inside the old carnival! Let's just go back to the party"

"That party sucks, they're playing spin the bottle, bloody original of 'em" he scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Besides we've got the good booze" sure enough, Hobie brings out a bottle of vodka tucked inside his zipped leather jacket. The liquid swishes inside as he shakes it for good measure.

"Where'd you even get that?" You laugh, surprised, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

"Brent's dad's liquor cabinet" he says, a smug smile on his lips. "Come the fuck on, I'm freezing my balls off" Hobie lifts up the chains as far as it would allow so you could duck under it.

"We have exams on Monday!"

"Easy enough, it's all just stock knowledge" he points at his temple.

"For you it is. I'm not like you, I actually need to revise."

"And you will, Come on" Hobie sees you sticking to your stance, sighing. "If i help you revise tomorrow will you come inside?"

"Fine, I'll blame you if we get murdered by a killer clown" You duck under while Hobie's hand shields your head from the rusty metal.

"I can take him–" Hobie stops mid sentence as you stand to your full height, face mere inches away from him. So close he can see every detail of your face, how the light bounces off your eyes, clouds of air puffing out of your lips. His breath hitches in his throat.

"You and those skinny arms? Don't think so, Hobs" you try to play it off, lips pursing closed, trying to even out your breathing. "Where to go next?" You chuckle nervously, stepping away from him, taking in his sudden silence as him being uncomfortable.

"I've been eyeing that ferris wheel" Hobie shakes his head, clearing his thoughts. He walks side by side with you, keeping you close. In case there is a killer clown on the loose.

Eyes on the rickety ride. "God, no! That thing hasn't been working since the eighties, you wanna kill us?" You didn't notice that Hobie's not next to you anymore, whirling, you look for him. "Hobie? Hobie! What the fuck?" Hugging your bubble jacket closer to you in comfort. "It's not funny, Hobart!" Yelling out, you have a sudden urge to run away, but you don't, not intending to leave him.

You jump when lights suddenly turn on, blinking at you. Colorful bulbs do their best to stay on after not being used for years. You gasp out, laughing breathlessly. The place doesn't seem so scary now. You half expect the speakers to come back to life, but it doesn't, the only noise is from the whirring of the old generator and crickets singing in the dark.

Hobie lingers on the side, bottle in hand, completely enthralled with you bathed in light. A love sick smile stuck on his face.

"Hobie! Holy shit" noticing him, you call out to your best friend, waving your arms in delight.

He saunters to you, absolutely smug, you scoff playfully at his ego. "Let's hear it" Hobie brings his hand to the shell of his ear, acting like he can't hear you.

"What do you want me to say? Good job?"

"How 'bout 'You're the man, Hobie!' Or just start showering me with praises"

"I'll shower you with that vodka if you don't stop"

"Rude of you to assume I wouldn't actually like that"

You shove him lightly, "Good job flicking a switch, Hobart"

"Oi, I had to figure out which switch to open"

Rolling your eyes, you grab his arm, putting a stop to your bickering, if you don't you two would've gone all night. Leading him further inside, Hobie slyly moves his arm so he could hold your hand instead, you pretend to not notice, finding the lights to be the most interesting thing in the world, your hand cups his warm ones, squeezing it lightly.

Friends do this too, right?

Hand in hand, you stop at a booth that looks like it was for some kind of carnival game. Cartoon clowns lined up on the far back, mouths open. There's still some stuffed toys hanging on the side of the booth albeit too dirty or broken to take with you.

"Oh man, I wanted one" You pout, leaning on the divider to check for better looking toys. Hobie copies your movement, rummaging behind the counter.

Something hits your head with a squeak, you glare at Hobie acting nonchalant, feigning innocence as he examines a soft ball. You bet that it squeaks when squeezed.

"Oh 'kay" you bite your lip, blindingly reaching out towards the first thing you touch, unfortunately for Hobie it was a crusty plushy, aiming for his head, it hits him square on the chest, leaving grime and cobwebs all over his jacket.

You laugh loudly as he wipes wildly at his clothes, yelping when his hand touches something wet.

"Disgusting!" Hobie has an idea, he extends his arms towards you for a hug, taking small strides. "Come here, lovey" with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a lopsided smile, he closes the distance.

"No, don't even think about it!" Walking backwards with a smile, your back hits a pole. "Ack!" You screech when he embraces you, warmth and his familiar scent wafts your senses. A giggle escapes you, making Hobie hug you tighter.

"Now we both smell" you try to wiggle out of his hold, Hobie shakes you from side to side, you go dizzy in his arms, going limp, feigning hurt. "Oi," he shakes you lightly, chuckling at your antics. "She's dead, I can finally sacrifice her to the clowns" he moves you towards the cartoon clowns.

You drag your feet, he carries your full weight. "A little help here?" Hobie asks, you open one eye only to tightly close it again. "I'm tryin' to appease the gods here y'know" he says in between laughs, flicking your forehead.

"Really clown gods? Could've chosen better ones" you smile giddily up at him, he beams back at you, cradling the back of your head.

He scoffs, "or a much more willing sacrifice" Hobie straightens you out, fixing the collar of your jacket. You let out a small thank you, hot where his fingers grazed your skin.

"I saw somethin' better than the ferris wheel" he mumbles out.

"Yeah? Let's go then" taking his hand in yours you loop your pinky finger with his. Hobie leads you with a wobbly smile.

—

Hobie helps you up on the large Gondola, an out of commission viking ride that's supposed to swing up and down, now it's inoperable, looking glum amidst the twinkling lights. A wooden mermaid is carved on its bow, marred by time and exposed to the elements. It must've been a sight back then.

Using your foot as leverage, Hobie lifts you up by your hand, "I've got you" he heaves, your foot loses balance on the edge, threatening to fall off. "Shit!" Gasping out, you reach for his neck as he panics to grab a hold of you.

"I have you—Holy fuck!" Hobie secures you by your waist, your eyes tightly closed, head right on the crook of his neck. "You okay?" He places you back on solid ground, the ride creaks in the wind.

"Yeah," you exhale a shaky breath. Pulling away. "I'm gonna need that vodka" sitting down on the boat, you gesture towards the bottle on the floor. It wasn't even a far fall if he didn't catch you, but the thought of you getting hurt sounded alarms in his head.

Hobie snickers, he opens the bottle before he hands it to you, fingers touching yours for a split second. It's more than enough to warm his skin, not needing the alcohol to heat him up anymore. You take a sip whilst Hobie lounges to the seat in front of you, arm stretched on the back of it, long legs propped up next to your lap.

The moon casts him in a dark shadow, his newly pierced ears glinting in the moonlight, he looks ethereal this way, divine and out of reach. The lights whir, having a hard time lighting the old place.

You do the same to him with a smirk, legs right next to his jeans, taking a swig while your eyes stay to him. The warm liquid slides to your throat, warming you immediately.

You have no idea the effect you have on him. Hobie clenches his fists, breathing staggered, eyes flickering to your lips. It's not your intention though, you just wanted to show off that you can take your alcohol.

Hobie taps your thigh with his boot, clearing his throat before talking, "you're gonna drink all of it" He takes the bottle from your hand as you cough loudly. "That's what you get for hoarding all the vodka" chastising you, he leans to pat your back with a lot of effort on his part, almost folding himself in half.

"Fuck, that's– whew" your face all scrunched up, regretting your choices. Coughing again, your throat burns.

"You good, Gromit?" He asks with a laugh.

"Did you bring water with you?" Tears prick your eyes, sniffling.

"No, didn't think to" Hobie says apologetically, he winces when you let out another cough.

"You could've grabbed a bottle? I feel like my throat has razor blades in it" clearing your throat, you knead at your neck.

"Your fault, love. I didn't dare you" He takes a sip, taking your slight cough as a cautionary tale.

"Why'd you take us to this death trap anyway? Wait, did you plan this?" You look at him with a raised brow, realization hitting you.

"Nah, I told you the party was boring me to death" he lies, but you know him too well, noticing his tells. The slight bob of his adam's apple, eyes flicking to the side of your face for a split second, fingers itching at the back of his hand. You don't mention it or even tease him about it, intending to enjoy your time together.

"Yeah, going to jail for underage drinking and trespassing sounds better" you laugh, Hobie brings his feet to your lap, soles grazing your jacket. To his surprise, you don't protest. Legs parallel to each other, you play with the aglet of his boots.

"No one goes here except for teenagers wanting a place to snog" he regrets his words immediately, his ears feel like it's about to burst into flames.

You look at him with a growing smirk, with the alcohol coursing through you, it gives you liquid courage when you say the next words. "You planning on snogging me here, Hobs?"

Hobie almost spit takes at your question, he answers with the same bravado, shyness nonexistent as he feels his skin warm up from the alcohol. "If I'm gonna snog you, we would be in a better place than this rust bucket"

Instantly sobering up, you blink in surprise, chuckling nervously. Biting more than you can chew, your eyes try to avoid his lips.

Sitting in an awkward silence, Hobie takes another swig, you hug your torso from the biting cold. The tension is thick, his legs sit heavy on your lap. He notices these kinds of silences have increased these last few years, Hobie hopes it's not because you're pulling away from him or worse, him pushing you away with his growing affections.

You finally try to cut the tension, "Can we–" Hobie thought of the same, unintentionally cutting you off.

"I'm–shit. Sorry, go on" He really wants to hear what your next words will be, it could either cross the line between your friendship into something more. Hobie anticipates, hanging to every syllable you would utter.

"Can we go home? This place kinda gives me the creeps" He did not expect that, "the lights help but now some of them are flickering and it's like something's gonna come out" biting your lip, you look at Hobie directly.

The only reason you want to go is to get rid of the awkwardness, blaming the dark yet romantic atmosphere. You want to stay, you really do, but if the air stays like this between you, you'd rather go home. Save yourself the embarrassment of pining for your best friend. Guess Hobie isn't the only one lying tonight.

"Yeah, sure" He sits up, dejected, legs retreating back to him.

"Sorry, what was it you're gonna say?" Leaning your elbows on top of your thighs, you take the bottle from Hobie, getting his attention.

He sighs, you see a rare sight. He looks somewhat afraid. Why would Hobie be afraid though? It's just you.

You try to encourage him with a joke, "you feeling okay? You look constipated, is it the vodka?" He chuckles, you stand up, mirroring his small smile.

But that's the thing, it's you, a few years ago his little crush turned into puppy love, and that love turned into full blown yearning, longing for you to see him as something else other than your 'best mate' at first he thought it was just a phase, muddled with his teenage hormones, latching to the closest person he feels attracted to. Then it persisted, he realized that his deep affection for you was something else entirely other than some hormone induced crush.

It was safe to say Hobie hated puberty.

He bites the bullet, if he's gonna tell anyone it would be you. "I'm leaving school"

"Oh" dropping down from the gondola, you hide your frown. He's leaving, he's leaving you. Hands shaking at the thought, you mindlessly walk away, following the brightest thing in the carnival. "Why are you leaving?" Trying to hide the shakiness of your voice, you wring your hands together, taking another sip of the warm liquid.

Is it you? Did you cross the border too much? Is he sick of you? The cold doesn't help with your thoughts.

"I don't like school, you know that" Hobie watches your retreating form, he knew you wouldn't take it well but it still hurts when you turned your back on him. "Y/n" he calls out as you step on the carousel.

Turning around, his explanation calmed you down a smidge. You try to fix your expression. The bright lights of the carousel envelopes you, a halo forming around your body. You give him your hundred dollar smile.

"Okay, just don't forget me when you're famous" laughing dryly, Hobie joins you in the light, taking your shaking hands.

Knowing you for a long time, he reads you like an open book, looping his pinky with yours, Hobie looks at you straight on.

"I'm staying in the city, just not at school. 'm not leaving" you, he wanted to add but he's not brave enough to say the word.

Inhaling, you focus on the horses instead of his hold on you. "You should've led with that," you say with a tight lipped smile, extending your encouragement to him, you swallow your sadness. "I'm proud of you, if anyone's gonna make it out there it would be you" finally looking at him, gold bounces off his iris, honeyed flecks dancing in his eyes. "You can go on tour if you want to, you don't have to stay in the city" with me, the words echo in your mind.

Telling the absolute truth, your face is serious, hiding the ache. You will always be supportive of him even if it means leaving you in the process.

"Well we have to build our reputation first before goin' on tour," Hobie sways your intertwined hands. "Besides, my number one fan is here, who's gonna cheer us on?" He gives you his best smile, the same one that haunts your dreams.

Legs wobble from under you, leaning towards him, Hobie's eyes widen at your movement.

You embrace him, head laying on his broad shoulder. Mind reeling, you can't help but feel you're holding him back from doing greater things.

A sharp whistle pulls you away.

—

Hobie opens his eyes, back aching from the lumpy settee, his right arm practically numb. He's not usually a morning person, but with you sleeping comfortably in his arms, he wants to wake up earlier just to see this rare sight. Hobie smiles at how relaxed your face is, brows unfurrowed, mouth slightly parted and your skin glistening in the early morning sun. Your back to the couch, squeezed in between him and the settee, Hobie's arm wrapped around your torso, protecting you from the springs protruding from the cushions. Your Hands tucked to his side, fingers curled unconsciously on his shirt.

He doesn't care that his long legs dangle off the armrest, couch too small for his tall stature, or how there's a crick in his neck. Despite it all, Hobie hasn't slept this well in a long time. He's glad last night wasn't all a dream. Gently caressing your cheek with his pinky just to make sure you're actually real in his embrace.

You shift in your sleep, licking your dry lips, inhaling a gulp of air. It's like you're attuned with his senses, already knowing he's wide awake. You fake sleep, acting like you're deep in slumberland. Feeling his chest rise up and down, you can't help but curl your lips into a small smile when he covers his leg over yours, securing you in his hold.

Hobie knows you're awake though, his enhanced senses telling him the shift in your heartbeat and breathing. He's in a good mood so he intends to tease you this morning. Testing to see what your reaction will be in this new found position he has you in.

He tries to leave the couch, carefully taking his arm from under you, leg up, untangling from yours. You immediately protest, grasping his torso with your eyes closed. Pulling him back down to your side. Chuckling at your reaction, butt hitting the cushions with a thud, he slides back down to your side, going back to the same position. Your cheek pressed to his chest as Hobie kneads at the soft skin of your waist.

Still in your outfit, his fingers fiddle with a sunflower stitched to your cami. You lean further into him, arm over his torso, feeling his warmth through his shirt.

You're the first one to speak, sleep still lingering in your voice. "You talked in your sleep"

"And you drooled all over me but no one's keeping track" Hobie's morning voice sounds deeper, goosebumps appear on your skin when you feel the vibration from his chest.

"Hmm" you hum, content in his arms, savoring the precious moment. "I don't drool" cracking one eye open, you fight the sleep off. You rile him up just to hear the deep rumble of his voice.

"There's a wet patch on my sleeve that begs to differ" he says, nuzzling your hair. "What did I say?"

"Hm, you woke me up for a bit when you said clowns and my name. Sounds like you were having a really good dream about me" you take a peek at him through half lidded eyes. Hobie gently rubs the sleep off the corners, you practically vibrate at his touch.

"Well, you are a clown" he quips, you gasp dramatically, grabbing the hem of his shirt, balling it in your fist.

"What did you say? You punk?" Trying to sound as menacing as possible even though you're half asleep, you smile through the threat.

"I said you're gorgeous" his eyes flick to your lips for a second before Hobie gives you his best smile. You feel like a gem in his gaze, letting out a small 'thought so'. "For a clown" he says against your lips, chasing the soft plush of it.

"You–!" Pushing him off the sofa, he laughs all the way down, his butt landing on the floor, back on the foot of the sofa. His hands glued to your waist, almost bringing you down with him. You lay upside down with Hobie's hand on you, his face upturned, inches away from yours.

Pecking the tip of his nose, you don't care for morning breath, with Hobie, nothing embarasses you anymore. He feels the same, leaning up to change the course of your kiss to his waiting lips.

Giggling, you cup his jaw, neck straining to reach him in the upside down kiss. Hobie feels like he's dreaming again.

Before the kiss could go any further, you pull away, already missing his lips. "Can I go shower?"

"Sorry, I should've brushed first" he winces.

"It's not that, we literally made out last night with shawarma breath. I don't give a shit, Hobs" you chuckle, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips for good measure. He grins at your words, "I just really need to get out of these clothes and wash my face"

"Right, You just want to wear my clothes" Hobie flicks your forehead, "perv"

"You're the perv, dreaming about me with clowns and shit" laughing, you sit upright, nudging him with your socked foot.

"Yeah, it was bloody steamy" he riles you up again, it doesn't work this time though.

"Tell me later" walking to the bathroom, you spare him a sly glance over your shoulder.

When did you get so immune to his teasing? Hobie feels he needs to up his game.

—

Hobie scrapes off the egg sticking to the pan, now in his home clothes, a plain band shirt with the sleeves cut off and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Hissing when hot oil flies towards his hand.

He feels you before he hears you, shutting the bedroom door behind you, the broken answering machine takes your attention from Hobie's toned arms.

Wiping your arms with the towel, you glare at the machine. "What are you planning with this thing?" Gesturing vaguely.

"What thing?" Taking the mugs out of the cabinet, he spares a look behind him. Maybe he shouldn't have. You look right at home, his jumper hugs your torso comfortably, pajama pants that he hasn't worn in a long time fits just right on your waist.

Hobie wants to kiss you as soon as possible. His senses are still a bit wonky, jumping slightly when the bread digs out of the toaster.

"Your machine" moving closer to him, feet padding on the wooden floors, you take the plate full of eggs, scrambled for you, sunny side up for him. "Thanks, Hobs"

"Ah, you forgot somethin'" you hum curiously, letting him turn you back around by your shoulder. Thinking that he might hand you the mugs of tea, instead he kisses your cheek, you squeak out, carefully balancing the plate in your wobbly hand. "There, what's up with the machine?" He goes back to making tea as if he didn't steal a kiss right under your nose. You don't seem to mind though.

"I think you should just throw it out"

"I can still fix it" He pours milk into your cup.

"Hobie, I know you can but that thing is bloody cursed" tone serious, you place the eggs on the kitchen island.

He guffaws at your comment, he can't believe your minds are so in sync with each other, Hobie sometimes feels like you're connected to him.

He still asks you even though he knows your answer, a ploy to keep hearing your voice. "Why do you think it's cursed?"

"Well, you bought it off an estate sale, it's probably haunted by the old owner. Second, it shocked you while you were installing the damn thing." Hands on your hips, you lean on the counter. Hobie snickers at your comments. "And lastly it has committed a crime against us"

Hobie laughs loudly, shaking the boat slightly as he doubles over in laughter. "What's the crime that my machine committed?" Mirroring your stance, he drapes the dish cloth over his shoulder.

You bite the inside of your cheek with how attractive he looks right now. "Sabotage" mumbling it out.

"Sabotage?" Hobie closes the distance, hands lovingly holding your shoulders. You click your tongue, moving his hand from your shoulder up to your jaw before you place your hands back to your hips again.

He tilts his head, thumb circling over to your cheek. "Cursed or not, the thing's expensive. I can still fix it"

"My parents have a spare one, I can nick it for you" biting your lip, you say the next words softly like you're still unsure. "Take it as a housewarming present from me, before I move in?"

Hobie's giddy smile melts your trepidation, leaning in, he stops a few centimeters from your lips. Closing your eyes in anticipation. Your brows furrowed when you don't feel his lips on yours. Cracking your eyes open, you see Hobie smirking mischievously. Huffing, you stick out your tongue in annoyance. Pushing him away with your palm on his face.

He chuckles, pinching your nose for a brief second before going back to making your tea. His houseboat has never felt more like home before, Hobie thinks you're the missing piece in making it so.

—

Hobie and you share a plate, standing hip to hip near the kitchen island, forks fighting for the last bit of egg. Soft music plays in the background from his old record player, the slow song a rare one in his large collection of vinyls.

"Since when?" He stops attacking you with his fork, moving the egg closer to your side of the plate, surrendering.

"Hmm? Since when what?" You ask, cutting the egg in half, giving the bigger cut to him.

He hums appreciatively, bringing the egg to his mouth. Suddenly feeling anxious at what he's gonna say.

Drinking your tea, you wait for him to continue.

"Since when did you start fancying me?" You almost choke, eyes widening at his question. Hobie never fails to surprise you.

You swallow your breakfast, "well," buying time, sipping your drink. "I don't know the day exactly. I think everything just clicked for me" answering, you avoid his gaze.

Hobie moves your chin so he could look you in the eyes. He didn't confess to you and make things awkward between you. Breaking the tension, he moves closer, leaning against the counter. Hand comfortably pressed on the small of your back. You bring him closer by his waist, hand staying there.

"So you just woke up one day and went 'I fancy my best mate?'" Fully joking, he raises a pierced brow.

You chortle, "No, I remember it being gradual. Like slowly getting past your ego," he rolls his eyes, you chuckle at his reaction. "your teasing and all the spikes." Giggling, he clutches his nonexistent pearls. "I dunno exactly when" shrugging your shoulders, you tell the truth. "But a rough approximate, probably between year eight or nine"

"You fuckin' telling me I could've been holding you like this since year nine?"

You guffaw loudly, "maybe not like this! We would've been too young!"

"A couple of years later then" Hobie matches your laugh, hugging you closer.

After a minute of comfortable silence, you continue to eat while still clinging to each other, Hobie pipes up. "Do you have someplace to be today?" He hopes for a 'no'

"Yeah, I have to go back to campus to submit my papers for graduation" biting a piece of your toast, noticing his lack of reply. "Or I can do that tomorrow." You see him perk up in your peripheral, "deadline isn't till next week anyway" slyly side eyeing him, a cheeky smile on your giddy face.

"Good" He acts disinterested. Hiding his smile behind his mug, but you know better.

You wait for a few seconds, smirk slowly spreading on your lips. "You've got something planned for us?"

Hobie chuckles, "Nah, just wanna stay home" he wipes the crumbs off your chin. "With you"

"Oohh I feel so special" leaning into his touch, you blink at him prettily.

"Gorgeous" he softly says, staring deep into your eyes.

"Yeah? Even with crumbs all over me?"

Without warning, He lifts you up by your thighs effortlessly. Laughter fills the modest boat, you cling to his neck, leaning down to kiss him. He tastes sweet because of the tea, you savor him, legs tightening around his waist. Humming into the kiss. His hands squeeze your upper thighs, still at a respectable distance.

Thanks to his new found senses, Hobie leads you back to the couch, a feat in itself without bumping into furniture while his eyes are closed. His back lands on the lumpy cushions, earning him a groan as he feels the friction between you. Kissing you deeper, fingers massaging the back of your neck.

You arch your back, Hobie lets out a deep sound from the back of his throat. Needing air, you pull away with a breathless smile.

"Fuck" His chest heaves up and down, half lidded eyes stare up at you.

Chuckling, satisfied at his reaction, you lean back down to pepper his jaw with kisses. Hobie laughs (which sounded more like a giggle to you) with every smack of your lips on his skin.

"You sound" kiss "so manly" kiss "right now"

"That so?" Surroundings blur as he flips you over quickly but carefully, a large hand cradling the back of your head so that you don't hit the armrest. Your back landing on the cushion, legs still wrapped around his waist. His arms cageing you, grinning down at your flustered face. His necklace swings over your face, you restrain yourself from grabbing it to pull him further down to you.

You gulp down on air, like butter on a hot pan, you melt under him. Hobie sees your bare fingers, having an idea. With love seeping out of his pores, he slips his favourite ring off his finger. You give him a curious stare, feeling loopy with all the affections.

"Hand" he instructs you with a goofy smile, fingers flexing towards you. Shaking your head, you play hard to get. He rolls his eyes, smiling staying put. "Please"

Giggling, you give him your left hand, your heart threatening to pump out of your chest as he slips the metal ring to your pointing finger. You bite your lip when the ring twirls around your finger, ring too big for it. He huffs, sparing you a playful glance. You shrug, biting your lip to tamp down your giddy laughter.

Hobie takes the ring out for a second before putting it on your middle finger, it fits perfectly around you. The metal arms of the spider curl around your finger, hugging it. The red gleam of its eyes makes it look alive.

You bring the hand closer to your face, fanning your face like a southern bell about to faint from the summer heat.

Hobie's face feels like it's about to set on fire, pulse drumming loudly against his skin. He laughs at your antics. Admiring his ring on you.

"I made you so soft for me" your eyes tender, saying it in a sing-song cadence, hand reaching up to cup his cheek. You feel how warm he is, his ring grants him reprieve, cooling down a tiny area of his skin.

"Not soft right now though" Hobie leans down with a grin. You know exactly what he meant.

Gasping out, "Hobie! You–" Hobie cuts you off by blowing raspberries on the soft plush of your neck.

—

Hobie drops you off in front of your dorm building, you're practically wearing his wardrobe, save for your own shoes. Leather jacket over his jumper, too long jeans that he folded on each leg so you don't trip over the denim. His ring shines in the late morning sun right on your middle finger, still giddy at the thought of you wearing it. Your heavy bag full of clothes slung over your shoulder.

Hobie sits on his bike, motor still running, his hands sit comfortably on your waist. You're slotted in between his legs, fingers fixing the stray threads on his leather vest that you've lovingly given to him.

You've (reluctantly) come back to the dorms to submit your graduation requirements, having the entire day to yourself (to your dismay) but it's a necessary evil so you could spend the entire day with him tomorrow.

"You sure you don't want me to pick you up tomorrow?" He loops his thumb over your (his) belt loop.

"Nope, I can meet you there. I need to drop by aunt Janet's for my last order and you've got that protest. I can go with you if I finish early though"

"Right, call me if you need a ride" Hobie doesn't want to pressure you or worse, make you feel stifled.

"Mm-hmm, it's just a roll of fabric. I've managed before" you act brave in front of him. Truth be told, you want him next to you the entire day tomorrow, but you don't want him to think you're being too clingy. You're gonna move in with him anyway.

"Then I'll help you move in" as if reading your mind, Hobie pipes up excitedly.

"Then you can help me move in" chuckling, you agree with him. "First proper date tomorrow, huh?"

Hobie snorts, "Don't think that's the first one ever. We've been on hundreds"

"Yeah, but this one would be the first proper one. You asked me this time" looking at him through your eyelashes you can't help but peck his cheek. "You've got a plan for us then?"

"Maybe" Hobie guides your face with his hand, moving you to his lips instead. "Hell, I'll even get you flowers if you want. Since it's the first proper one" he says against your kiss bitten lips.

"Looking forward to it then" kissing him goodbye, you embrace him tightly. "Oh!" Pulling away suddenly, he pouts his lips. "I almost forgot, here" you take something out of your bag, placing it in his hand.

He looks at the red and blue spider trapped inside the glass casing, "it's dead right?"

"Yeah, you squished it. I've been meaning to give it to you since you gave me one" showing your ringed finger, twirling the metal spider around.

"How romantic, a dead spider" He says deadpanned, side eyeing you.

"Fine, give it here. Peter will love it" reaching over to take it from Hobie, he moves it away from you.

"Nah, it's mine. You gave it to me first" clicking his tongue, eyes crinkling in the corners, Hobie pockets it with a ghost of a smile.

You shake your head with a loopy grin, pecking his lips one last time before leaving. "Drive carefully" eyes soft, leaving one last kiss for good measure.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, love" He chases your lips, hesitantly pulling away.

—

You bump into your RA in the hallway, she looks at you from head to toe, clearly not in your own clothes.

"Fun night?" She asks with a knowing smirk.

"Very fun" you indulge her because of your good mood. She does a double take, not expecting you to actually answer her like that.

—

You sigh for the umpteenth time, closing the door to the admin's office. Still in Hobie's clothes, coming down from the high of being with him, you crave him more. Having some sort of withdrawal symptoms, feeling jittery and excited to see him again. Of course you wouldn't tell him that or he'll endlessly tease you about it.

Smiling like a mad woman, you walk past your old classroom.

"L/n!" Mrs. Williams calls out to you. Surprised she knows your last name or even remembers you. You peek around the corner, seeing her sitting down on her desk littered with stacks of papers and Manila envelopes.

"Good afternoon, professor" smiling politely, she gestures for you to come inside.

Truth be told, you were saving her for last on submitting your requirements, even though she was strict and (undeniably) terrifying, Mrs. Williams was an inspiration to you. Always prim and proper, her talent in designing is top tier. You learned a lot from her.

You stop right next to her desk, glancing at the various portfolios on her desk. Spotting yours in the forefront, you flick your eyes back to the brunette, hiding your sudden nervousness. Maybe you should've changed into something more fashionable before going back to campus. Hiding your hands inside Hobie's sleeves, you anxiously pick at your nail polish or what's left of it.

"Knock knock" someone suddenly knocks on the (already) open doors with enthusiasm. Turning around, you recognize the man as Mr. Riley from the fashion show, he holds two lattes in his hand.

He stands up straight the moment he spots you, "oh great timing"

"I assume you've met each other?" The woman genuinely smiles at Mr. Riley.

"Yes," answering, you don't miss their lingering looks towards one another as Mr. Riley gives her the latte.

"I was about to tell her about your proposition" Williams says through her paper cup.

Snapping out of it, Mr. Riley gives you his best smile. "Well, I've faxed my boss your portfolio and she absolutely loves it!" You beam at his words. "We would really love it for you to be part of the team after you graduate"

"That's amazing! I–I don't know what to say" you roam your eyes towards your professor for approval, she looks at you with a nod and small smile. "Thank you!" You laugh in bewilderment.

"Is that a yes?" Riley brings his hand for you to shake. "Of course we'll give you ample time to sort your papers for the move. Two months seems like the right timeline."

You were about to shake his hand to accept his offer but you stop halfway when he says the word 'move'. "I have to move? Where exactly?" Voice shaking, you drop your hand back to your side.

"L.A. in America" He says as if that's the closest place to move to. "You know, where our headquarters are?"

Mrs. Williams notices your knitted brows and slow blinks. "Ian, may I talk to my student for a minute" she looks up at him through her long lashes.

"Yeah– of course, I forgot your scones anyway. Be right back!" He walks away, shutting the door behind him.

Heart stuck in your throat, you look at your professor for guidance.

"Listen, out of the entire graduating class, only three were approved. One of them is you."

You release a shaky breath, lips tightening to a flat line, trying to stop your heaving. Your excitement turns into something indistinguishable, something that feels unwarranted, a stabbing sensation all over your skin.

Williams takes your portfolio in hand, flipping through it. "You see this?" She shows you a sketch of Hobie's outfit, his eyes seem to pierce through you. "This is the outfit, the only reason it didn't make it to the top three is because there wasn't enough of you in it."

You try to wrap your mind around her statement, ears focused on her words.

"I understand your…" she tries to find the right words. "...worry. But you must understand, not a lot of people get this opportunity. Don't let it pass you by"

You recognize those words, heart clenching at the different meaning behind it.

"Riley will only be here till next week, you have that time to decide. Please take my words into consideration, I want all my students to thrive."

You nod, murmuring a small 'thank you'. Walking away from the room, you slip away to an empty broom closet. Mind racing, it all stops to him, his smiling face appears in your mind's eye, voice echoing amidst the rushing and chaos of your thoughts.

Silent tears slide down your cheeks. You don't even know why you're crying. Already knowing what to do, wiping your eyes, tears sticking on your lashes, you already know, Right?

A/N: Thank you for reading! I can't believe we're almost at the end 😭 let me know your thoughts ❤️

I love you. (pt 2)

hobie brown x black! reader

words: 4.9k

rating: teen & up

summary: Love was a four letter word and it fucking hurt.

warnings: gender isn't mentioned for reader but they're fem leaning; drinking and vomitting; beginnings of a panic attack; hurt with no comfort (yet); just a lot of longing (reader is going THROUGH IT)

pt. 1

Love was a four letter word. 

If you looked in a dictionary, it would tell you that it was an intense feeling of deep affection. Unfortunately, you couldn’t remember the last time you had opened a dictionary.

Love had its definition skewed throughout your life. The affection you received from your parents was in the name of “tough love”. It told you that you weren’t meant to be sensitive, you weren’t meant to make mistakes— you were meant to know things before ever learning them.

Your definition of the word love always had the word tough attached to it. You didn’t know there could be love without it. A love that didn’t crumble your self-esteem or ground your self-worth into dust didn’t seem possible.

Love was a four letter word. A four letter word that hurt.

Love hurt. 

Yet, at the same time, love could be hypocritical. It was hypocritical when you read the Bible and prayed to a being that was all-knowing and all-loving, yet damned you to a hell for something it knew you couldn't control. You were damned to hell for love by the god of Love, the supposed embodiment of the emotion itself.

It was hypocritical when the very being of love spared none in the name of it. The god of Love demanded love above one’s children, or else. The god of Love demanded love even in the face of complete and utter annihilation, or else. 

Love was a four letter word and it was demanded of you, or else. 

Love was tough.

Love was hypocritical. 

Love hurt. And it hurt. And it hurt. 

Until it didn’t— until someone saw your broken pieces and decided they were more than worthy enough to be put back together.

Love was a four letter word and you had found a new definition in Hobie. You had found it in his voice, whether it was at the top of his lungs when he was performing or gentle words only meant for your ears. You had found it tucked behind his smiles, directed at you or not, and in every blissful touch you’d received from him.

He had blurred your past definitions of love until you had opened a dictionary, skimmed the damn thing for the word love, and found Hobie under it. It was a love you had cherished and did your best to nurture.

You held it close to you, even when it had you curled up on your bedroom floor and silent. Your tears would slide down your cheeks, dry, then rinse and repeat. The thought of eating made you sick to your core while the thought of moving made you curl yourself into a tighter ball. You were sure you would’ve snapped out of your spell eventually, but you didn’t move fast enough for your friends.

Love was a four letter word that made your friends force their way into your apartment and physically remove you from the depression that clung onto you. Your best friend had picked you up off the floor and held your trembling frame as you tried to curb your sobs. She wiped your tears with her thumb and held you tight, whispering that you could come back from this.

Could you?

Your trust had been shattered— you had allowed yourself to be vulnerable, thinking there was no way you could be stabbed in the back. In some cruel twist of fate, you’d been correct. Hobie had looked you in your eye and lodged a blade into your chest. 

You were fooled by the fickle thing called love— a fool for seeing what love was capable of being and still trying to prove otherwise. You saw it, believed it finally. You were done trying to find a new definition for it. 

Love was hypocritical.

Love was demanding.

Love was Hobie.

But love still hurt. 

And it hurt. And it hurt.

In the beginning, you were incapable of going places that you knew Hobie would be. The pub? No. The old community center? Absolutely the fuck not. Just the thought of seeing his face again made your heart crumble in your already blood-covered hands. Picking up the pieces was hard enough— connecting one fragile piece to another required a determination you no longer had. So you gave that up and focused on repairing your walls.

Because love hurt and you’d be damned if you let it hurt you again.

By the second month, you were able to maneuver through life without falling apart at the reminder of Hobie. Your walls had a shaky foundation, so you barred yourself from drinking, knowing how messy you would become. The liquor would burn your throat then remind you of cool nights where confessions left your tongue and you received gentle kisses in return.

You couldn’t handle that.

By the fourth month, your foundation was solid enough to recall your breakup without ruining your entire day. Instead, it would sit uncomfortably with you for a few hours until you finally pulled yourself free from the darkness that stuck to you. Then, with a deep breath, you could return to your life.

Love still hurt, but you could find a way to live with it again.

By the sixth month, your walls offered you a shield that you desperately needed, surrounding you on all sides and standing tall. You were able to visit places that you knew had a tiny possibility of Hobie appearing. It didn’t mean that your carefully trained eyes wouldn’t be apprehensively scrutinizing every person who entered your vicinity. You were well within your rights to do so.

Six months and thirteen days had passed since your breakup. The cloud that followed your every move had dissipated and you could see things clearly again. You allowed yourself to breathe for once, inviting the fresh air to enter your healed lungs. You allowed yourself to have fun.

Love still hurt, but at some point, you had to let your walls do their job and protect you.

Your best friend mentioned a house party that a friend of a friend would be having for their 21st birthday, which meant there would be more alcohol than you could ever dream of and maybe a chance to find someone new. The last part had made your lips curl in disgust, making your friend laugh out loud. 

It didn’t take much to convince you to go, it would be the perfect opportunity to lift that bar you had placed on drinking and just let loose.

You had dressed nice and in something that fit your curves just right and always made people look your way, then waited for your designated driver.

When they arrived, you greeted your best friend’s friend then searched the packed car for said best friend. You slid into the backseat, sitting beside a girl you’d never seen before and tapped the driver.

“Hey, where’s…” you trailed off as the driver formed an ‘o’ with her mouth. 

“That’s riiight, she wanted me to apologize for her since something came up last minute.”

You blinked owlishly. “What—”

“She flaked, friend, but don’t worry we’ll have fun without her. Ain’t that right!” She shouted and a chorus of cheers and whoops filled your ears. 

You sunk into your seat and tried to convince yourself that it’d be fine. You’d be having fun. You were going to have fun.

That was the mantra you repeated to yourself until the car pulled up to the building that held the party. Before you stepped out, the driver made sure to let you guys know to keep your purses and bags in the car and under the seat. 

“If ya’ll are gon’ get fucked up tonight, you’re better off leavin’ your shit in here. I don’t have time to be searchin’ that damn condo for your bags.” She had pointed her finger at each of you to emphasize her point.

You were incredibly reluctant to leave your bag, but she had a valid point. You did as you were told and before you knew it, you were taking shots with the birthday boy. You two would throw the liquor back and restrain yourselves from making faces. 

The music was deafening and you were sure the amount of people in the condo was a fire hazard, either way, you were having fun. You danced with some of the people you carpooled with, you made new friends, and most importantly, you had fun. 

But that was at the beginning. 

Your first sign to go was when the birthday boy passed out on the sofa while more people entered the front door. That told you that the party would keep going with or without him, and you didn’t know how you felt about that. 

Your biggest sign to go was when the very people who showed up late wanted to keep the party going. They poured alcohol into your cup when it was running low, they dared you to take more shots, and you kept accepting. 

You kept accepting until you couldn’t stand up straight and things were passing in blurs. Then, the regret set in.

You shouldn’t have come here. 

There were too many people and you were sure your driver fucking left you. You didn’t recognize the faces that surrounded you— hell, the birthday boy was nowhere to be found. You could feel your anxiety threaten to show itself, but you refused it.

Instead, you drank more. You threw back shot glass after shot glass hoping to drown your unpleasant emotions, but caused the opposite effect. The liquor only sank and allowed your burrowed feelings to float to the fucking top. 

Shit.

You didn’t want to deal with the emotions that bobbed in your face— the anxiety that laughed in your face for trying to drown it. And standing on trembling legs in the middle of this fucking party only added to your sudden helplessness. You had blown past your limit a long time ago and it felt like you were beginning to tear at the seams from just too much— too much. Why were you so irresponsible?

Bodies knocked into you, throwing you into a daze and making your stomach churn and gurgle. 

You weren’t having fun anymore. You weren’t having fun. 

You only managed to stay upright from sheer determination alone, because you knew if you toppled over in front of all these people, you would be inconsolable. 

God, usually you were much better at handling your alcohol intake, but you’d fucked up. Why had your driver left you? Why had your best friend left you alone? Why had Hobie— 

Oh.

Oh no no no. 

You tried your best to screw that jar shut, but it cracked and shattered in your hands. That mess of emotions spilled all of its unwanted contents everywhere. Your heart rattled behind your ribs and screamed at you. Your thoughts were incoherent as a dangerous flush went to your face. Your ears burned, your cheeks burned, and your vision began to blur.

You wanted to go home.

Someone pushed past you, making you stumble, but all you could think about was how you kept getting abandoned. You let yourself be vulnerable, even just a little, and got abandoned. Your hands shook violently as you tried to silence your spiraling mind. Your stomach begged you to stop moving as it worked overtime to deal with the alcohol and the sudden rise in anxiety.

You wanted to go home.

You wanted Hobie— but he left you.  

Someone else brushed against you, muttering apologies. Your breathing was rugged and your lungs suddenly couldn’t get enough air. Your world was tilting and your eyes were wide with unshed tears. 

You could feel that double-edged sword lodged in your heart and you knew it was bleeding again. You feared that it wouldn’t stop this time. You feared that you wouldn’t come back from this. 

You just wanted to go home.

Someone knocked into you and you let out a cry as you fell into another person. You grabbed onto their arms as they caught you. You were sick of the touching, you were sick of the anxiety and liquor that made your stomach upset, you were—

“Duck?”

For once, your thoughts went silent. For fucking once, everything just seemed to stop. Your wide, glassy eyes slowly trailed up this oh so familiar torso until they stopped at a pair of eyes you wished you could unsee. You…

You were going to be sick.

“Oi, duck, are you—”

All at once, your insides rebelled against you. You couldn’t stop the alcohol from leaving your stomach and landing on Hobie. He couldn’t do anything but stare at you in complete and utter shock as your rejected alcohol trailed down his pant leg. 

Humiliation flooded your entire body and you burst at the seams. Tears rained from your eyes and you began to sob. You tried to speak but it was all too much. Through strained vision, you could see concern wash over Hobie’s face and before you knew it, you were being led to the nearest bathroom. 

Hobie barely flicked the light on before you were rushing to the toilet and puking again. Your face was drenched in a continuous flow of tears and you were sure you looked fucking pathetic. The thought only made you cry harder until your body shuddered and you dry heaved again. 

You heard the door shut and when you looked up, Hobie was staring at you with those damn eyes of his. His eyebrows were furrowed and he appeared as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Your gaze landed on the wet stain on his pant leg.

“‘M sorry,” you said with a shaky breath. Hobie was quick to reassure you. 

“‘Low it, duck. S’fine, I swear it.” 

Fuck, you hated hearing his voice again. You hated it. You hated how each word knocked down your walls— shattered your protection. You hated how it made you so weak in the knees that you had to kneel in front of the toilet.

You hated throwing up.

Your body heaved again and there was a comforting hand on your shoulder. Before you could even think about reveling in the touch, you pushed it away. 

“Don’t,” you spat. You couldn’t handle it. 

Hobie raised his hands to show that he would stay hands off. You felt the sword dig deeper into your chest.

“Ya here alone?” he asked you, moving to be level with you. He leaned himself against the sink cabinet as he sat down. You hated him for it.

“‘M not s’pposed to be,” you muttered. “Got left.” Like he had left you. You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill. “I wanna go home but I left my keys in her car— why’d she leave me?” Why’d he leave you, too?

“She left ya by yourself?” he said slowly. He sounded incredulous which, almost several months ago, would’ve warmed your heart but you could only hum in response. 

You released a heavy sigh and reached forward to flush the toilet. The sound of flushing filled the bathroom as you attempted to rack your inebriated mind for a solution to your problem.

You weren’t too keen on being sick and stuck at this never-ending party. You slowly tilted your head to look at Hobie, who seemed to be contemplating something while he stared at where the floor connected to the wall. His legs were bunched up due to the small size of the bathroom and he absentmindedly picked at his nail polish.

You couldn’t begin to know where his mind was at, but you missed him. You should’ve hated him for it, but you missed him.

His presence alone made you dodge the full brunt of your panic attack, even though he left you. You missed him so badly that it hurt.

Your eyes snapped back to Hobie’s face when he suddenly took in a deep breath. He turned to face you, then paused. You don’t know what he saw in your expression, but it brought out a grief in his eyes you hadn’t expected. It made him look away to collect himself before he said, “Look, ion really like the idea of leavin’ ya here alone so,” he trailed off then made himself meet your gaze. “My boat’s a few blocks down the way. You can get ya bearin’s there, sleep, or whateva ya wanna do. Whateva you’re comfortable wit’.”

You should’ve told him no. You should’ve laughed in his face and been spiteful. You should’ve, but—

Love was a four letter word and, unfortunately, Hobie was still one of your definitions. 

The universe had a funny way of testing you, of being cruel to you. In some inexplicable domino effect, you agreeing to a house party after six and a half months of grieving a relationship led you here, following Hobie to his boat. 

The two of you walked out of sync with each other, mostly because of your pettiness. You did your best to linger a bit behind him, not daring to enter that space beside him even if his pace was slow enough for you to catch up. That space no longer belonged to you, no matter how much you wanted it to.

On the other hand, you couldn’t exactly walk straight and you’d be damned if you were to somehow bump into Hobie.

You could tell he wanted to offer his help, but he had been told to keep his hands off and that’s exactly what he was doing. 

One unstable foot after another, you made it work, even if drowsiness fought against you. It ebbed at the edges of your vision and weighed your legs down. Hobie peeked at you over his shoulder. “Y’sure ya don’ need any help?”

You leveled a glare at him. “‘M fine,” you snapped. But because karma was an asshole, you tripped and would’ve busted your ass if it weren’t for Hobie’s reflexes. You held onto his arms as he stabled you. At the same time, you tried to make the world stop spinning through pure will alone.

You brought your hand up to your head, silently hoping you wouldn’t need to throw up again. “Fuck— okay, um.” You were completely out of breath as you waited for your words to unscramble themselves. You squeezed Hobie’s arm. “Jus’ gonna… hang on here.”

You were glad that he didn’t laugh at your sudden change of heart, instead he nodded his head and waited for the okay to keep moving.

You should’ve hated how patient he was with you. You shouldn’t have agreed to this— but was there really any other option?

You gave the okay and the two of you walked together. If it weren’t for the way your exhausted mind slowly gave into drowsiness, you would’ve at least attempted to stay away from the space beside Hobie. You couldn’t help it.

You missed him.

You didn’t know how long it took for you to reach the dock, but you were sure it took a whole hell of a lot longer because your legs were untrustworthy. By the time you got inside of the boat, you were beelining for the bathroom again.

You were so tired, man. And you wished your stomach would catch a fucking hint. You had nothing left to give. 

Hobie had disappeared somewhere you didn’t know, you couldn’t exactly hear anything over your dry heaving. Though, it didn’t take long for him to pop up in the doorway with a shirt and a pair of shorts in his hands. 

You spat into the toilet and flushed it, hoping that this would be the last of your fit.

“Ya still have some clothes here— I’ll leave ‘em here.” He placed them on the counter while you stared at him.

“Figured you would’ve tossed ‘em by now, Hobie.”

“Thought you woulda come for ‘em.”

You didn’t mean to laugh out loud, the sharp sound cutting through the bathroom, but imagining yourself going out of your way to see him again— there was no chance. “I couldn’t handle the thought of seeing your face again.” You paused, dragging a hand down your face. “Still can’t.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Fair.”

You hated how he looked at you with a muted shame. He had brought this upon himself— upon you both. You bit the inside of your cheek.

“... you haven’t come for your things either.” You knew that by heart, especially knowing exactly where that box of his belongings sat in your closet. Waiting.

“You haven’t put ‘em in the rubbish yet?”

You didn’t say anything. There had been a reason for your madness— the main thing stopping you from doing so. You didn’t like acknowledging it and your best friend hated hearing it. It made you feel pathetic.

It wasn’t fun admitting that you were holding out hope for his return, like you were some sad puppy that was abandoned at a park.

In your silence, Hobie answered your initial question quietly. “Honestly, I didn’ think you’d wanna see my face.” And he’d been correct.

You didn’t think you could handle the rest of this conversation without bursting into tears. “I’m gonna get changed now.”

He perked up, suddenly remembering his point of coming to the bathroom in the first place. “Righ’, righ’. I’ll be out here.”

When he closed the door, it felt like you could finally breathe again. You put on the pajamas and did your best not to topple over in the process. Then, you reached under his sink and rinsed out your mouth with his mouthwash. 

Inevitably, there was one last problem.

“You’re not gonna fit on the fucking couch, Hobie.”

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.”

You barely withheld your eye roll, because knowing you, the moment your eyes disappeared behind your eyelids, they wouldn’t return. “I can sleep on the couch—”

“No.”

This fucking— “Well you’re not sleeping on the couch or the fucking floor.” 

“Neither are you.”

Your mind was not happy with either you or Hobie. You wanted to sleep. You needed to sleep. And your back and forth was preventing that. “Then we’re sharing the goddamn bed.” You shouldn’t have even suggested it, but if it meant that you could pass the hell out, then by all means.

That was a problem for a future you.

The suggestion didn’t win without a fight because, unfortunately, that’s just who you two were. You wanted to sleep, Hobie didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you didn’t want him on the couch or the floor— back and forth until you two finally met in the middle. 

You would share a bed but have two separate blankets. And that’s how that went as you two had your backs facing each other. You didn’t allow yourself to think or to revel in how much you missed sharing a space with Hobie.

You let your mind drift until you fell asleep. 

At some point, you let go of sleep and cracked open an eye. The sun was not yet up and the room was still dark. It reminded you of nights that held whispered I love you’s until they disappeared into the quiet atmosphere. In that moment, Hobie’s resting face came into focus.

You didn’t realize just how close you and Hobie had shifted toward each other in your sleep. It was like a muscle memory that shouldn’t have belonged to you anymore, but it still prevailed. 

Your faces were inches from each other, sharing the same air, and you could feel his breath ghost over your face. You should’ve had a larger reaction to it than you did, but your drunken mind and exhausted body let the familiar comfort lull you back to sleep.

Love was a four letter word and it was unyielding. Even after refusing to learn any more definitions for it, it refused to give up. 

Love was unreasonable.

Love was inexplicable.

Love was unyielding.

But it still hurt. 

You were reminded of that whenever the blade in your heart sank deeper. You were reminded of that when you woke up the next morning to an empty bed.

It took you a moment to register exactly where the hell you were, yet it was overshadowed by the fact that your head was threatening to split open. You hissed and shut your eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck— what did you drink last night? 

You flipped on your back to think, though you wished the boat would stop rocking for a moment— oh what the fuck.

No. 

There was no way. 

You opened your eyes in a panic and as much as your body hated you for it, you sat up. Your eyes roamed around the familiar room as memories of last night flooded your mind. Disbelief clawed at your chest as you racked the memories for a reason why you would agree to come back here. 

You tossed the blanket aside and your eyes landed on the nightstand. There, a bottle of water and two pills waited for you. 

Oh god. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth as tears threatened to burn at your eyes. It didn’t help that you realized that all of the curtains were purposely shut to keep the room dim. Your hands moved over your eyes, knowing that if you cried now, your headache would be worse. 

Regardless, you took the pills and chugged the water. The quicker you were out of here, the better it would be. 

You found your clothes from the night before and slid them back on. Your body ached and your head pounded, but you needed to go. 

You searched the floor for your shoes but you knew for a fact that they were by the front. Immediately, you reached for the door but stopped short. You knew Hobie was out there, if the soft strums of his guitar were anything to go off of. 

You dragged a hand down your face and mentally prepared yourself. Hobie had already wrecked the protection you had surrounding your heart and you knew you were completely and utterly weak when it came to him.

You put your hand on the handle and twisted it. The subtle light change made you hiss which made the guitar notes stop. 

Making eye contact with Hobie was as difficult as you knew it would be. You turned away and searched the ground for your shoes. 

“How ya feelin’?” 

God, he needed to stop talking. You were weak. You couldn’t do this. 

“Like shit. Have you seen my shoes?” You weren’t prepared to have him stand up and walk over to you with the shoes in hand. Without looking at him, you muttered your thanks and took them from him. You put them on with shaky hands. 

“Duck—”

“Please, don’t call me that right now.”

“Sorry, (Y/N).” Somehow that was even worse. “You headed to ya friend’s?”

“Yeah. Gonna tear her a new one for flaking and for recommending her stupid friend.” With your shoes on, you stood to your full height and tried to reason with your racing heart. You felt like a frantic mess and with Hobie standing so close to you, you couldn’t even begin to repair your broken walls. “Thanks for letting me stay and for the painkillers. I’m gonna go.” 

You thought you could keep it curt and maybe get out of this with just a little bit of dignity, but you went and looked Hobie in his eyes.

Those honey-colored eyes of his had a way of keeping you stuck. You hated that he didn’t stop you from stepping around him, how he silently agreed to your departure. Yet, it was his fault that your hand stopped on the doorknob. It was his fault that you stopped and turned around to face him again.

You two stood there, staring into each other’s souls, the very souls that bled for each other. You hated that as frantic as he made you, you still wanted to be near him, to be with him. You turned away and turned the knob.

Then, there was a hand grabbing yours and your resolve crumbled. You turned back around with watery eyes and you hated seeing the regret written all over Hobie’s face. You couldn’t stand looking at it, so you moved your attention to his hold on your hand.

You had half a mind to pull away.

“‘M sorry for leavin’ ya like I did. I truly am.”

You were quiet for a moment. “But you’re not sorry for leavin’, are you?” you whispered. You wished you could’ve had some bite behind your words, but you didn’t. Hobie’s brows only furrowed further and you slid your hand out of his grasp, bringing it close to your heart. You inhaled deeply. “You’re not selfish enough, Hobie.” 

Love was a four letter word and it was many things.

Love was demanding.

Love was hypocritical.

Love was unreasonable— unyielding. 

Love was unpredictable.

But you needed it to be selfish for once. 

You needed Hobie to be selfish for once, because it was tearing you apart. He wouldn’t ask you to stay, even if you loved each other from the bottom of your hearts to the depths of your souls. You wanted him to beg you to stay, but you knew he wouldn't.

“You already know how I feel about you, but you still—” You choked up on the word. “... is keeping me safe worth keeping us miserable?” 

You didn’t wait for an answer, instead you opened the door and left. With each step, you repaired your walls one brick at a time, because even with all the things love could do and had the potential to be…

… love still hurt.

divider by cafekitsune :3

had to cut this bad boy in half so the comfort isn't here JUST yet. thanks for all of your comments/reblogs you guys are hilarious <333

taglist: @hoe-bie @hao-ming-8 @anonoussy @amianelf-main @muffinlovesfiction

Gwen: French pigs be like "Oinque"

Pavitr: Japanese pigs be like "Oinkú"

Hobie: American pigs be like "STOP RESISTING!"

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