Go By The Board
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.
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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.”
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love that almost every character you see in Wendell & Wild is a person of color from the main lead to the extra characters you see in the classroom.. really makes Tim Burton look like even more of a clown than he already is
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*
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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 ❤️
Gwen: French pigs be like "Oinque"
Pavitr: Japanese pigs be like "Oinkú"
Hobie: American pigs be like "STOP RESISTING!"
a collection of my playlists highlighting black artists in multiple genres of music. a little late for BHM but better late than never <3 enjoy! suggestions and additions are always welcome.
black people created rock: a forever growing playlist of various sub - genres of rock made by black artists and musicians; from classic rock, pop punk, rock rap, metal, post hardcore, etc. from underground bands, popular artists experimenting with their sound, artists from other genres collaborating with rock stars, and more!
a southern gothic tale: country / folk / blues / bluegrass; there are some rap / pop songs that include country elements in them but for the most part it's what you think.
black alternative: black artists that make music outside of the expectation. alt [rnb/pop], hyperpop, indie [pop/rock], dream - pop, bedroom pop; you name it, it's probably in here.
black g!rl pvnk !: similar to my black people created rock playlist, except it's just black women. this playlist also includes rap that takes heavy inspiration from alternative subculture.
juicy fruit, certified bubble yum: [bubblegum] pop by black artists. oftentimes our music gets categorized as rnb / urban / hip hop even when it's clearly not! there's been a historical record of black music being put in the wrong categories by reviewers and the academy trying to box black music into a box. while some songs may have rnb elements, it's clear that they're classic, well-made, and respected pop songs!
🌹 Fluffy Fridays Masterlist 🌹
-Check the rules here-
*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*
You sing a lullaby in your native language.
Playing pretend with Hobie.
Bro My Jewel thief Girlfriend Has a Fortnite Skin!!!
Look How Cute She is!!!
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.
My Navigation
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 ❤️
my 'Six The Musical' content:
six
illustration: mugshot meme
animation: Catherine of Aragon, six vs history
animation: Anne Boleyn, six vs history
animation: Jane Seymour, six vs history
animation: Anna of Cleves, six vs history
animation: Katherine Howard, six vs history
animation: Catherine Parr, six vs history
animation: who ate María's powder donuts?
modern!au
illustration: character sheet (queens)
animation: Lina's little girls
illustration: character sheet (kids)
illustration: Lina's army portrait
illustration: step-children - Kat&Mae vs Anna&Eddie
Illustration: birthmarks & scars (queens)
sports!au
Illustration: character sheet (queens)
boardingschool!au
illustration: Go for it, Cathy! - ParrWard
tweets!memes
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
part 6
part 7
part 8
part 9
part 10
part 11
part 12
part 13
part 14
part 15
part 16
part 17
part 18
part 19
part 20
part 21
part 22
part 23
part 24
part 25
part 26
part 27
part 28
part 29
part 30
part 31
part 32
part 33
messages!memes
part 1
part 2
part 3 (special edition: Kat has ADHD and hates school 1/4)
part 4 (special edition: Kat has ADHD and hates school 2/4)
part 5 (special edition: Kat has ADHD and hates school 3/4)
part 6
part 7 (special edition: the Queens reaction to "I want a baby")
part 8 (special edition: Kat has ADHD and hates school 4/4)
part 9
part 10 (special edition: the Ladies In Waiting)
part 11
part 12
part 13 (special edition: the Queens reaction to "Mom, I got arrested"/the Six Kids)
(the post will be edited when more content is added)
Starstruck
Hobie Brown x fem! reader (high school au)
@rexlroze, @the-kr8tor What better place to stir up drama than high school? ✨️Enemies to lovers✨️
Part(s): Prologue, ???
Visions Academy. Elitist? Yes, but the school of your dreams. An hour trip from Harlem on the subway. But if your mom’s dingy blue bug held up for another year you wouldn’t have to worry about paying for a Metrocard.
It was incredible when you visited on a campus tour. The music program was world renowned. You plan to take every course available but you need to be in that music room. Smell the polish from the guitars and touch the marble of the grand piano. You shiver just thinking about standing in the auditorium. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. Everything your family could ever have dreamed of for their daughter.
So it doesn’t bother you to work until the dead of night with customers that make you want to tear your hair out. Visions makes it all worth it and well, being able to pay for your own gas is nice too.
It’s Friday, the parlor is loud and bustling with families, high schoolers, and disgruntled adults who just want to pay. Life couldn’t be any better than this.
“Manolo where are my damn pizzas?” Yuri screams over the bar separating the kitchen and the cashiers. Stacking empty boxes into her hands before shoving them under the counter.
“What do you expect me to do!?” He yells back. Antonio, his younger brother slipping on what you assume is the ghost pepper Manolo never picked up. “I’ve got six other orders before damn what’s his name. Tell him to wait his fu-”
You tune them out as you smile politely to the little girl in front of you who’s asked for a to-go cup.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” you chuckle. Watching her run back to her parents. It was sweet, reminding you of your own dad and mom back home.
“(y/n)!’
You don’t react as Yuri spins you around, pushing you towards the kitchen where boxes and boxes of pizza are stacked up. “Go, I expect you back within two hours eh?”
You also don’t react when she glares down at Antonio. Who is usually your delivery boy but is currently nursing a burn on his hand. The poor guy really was as clumsy as a deer.
“Two hours (y/n)!” She repeats.
Then the door slams shut behind you. Your car keys in hand and a bag draped over your shoulder that burns into your side with how many pizzas are stuffed inside. Don’t even ask how that worked, Yuri has her ways.
You sigh as you hop down the steps. Gently setting the bag in the passenger's seat once you reach your car. It takes you a second to set up your phone with directions along with music. The speakers are surprisingly clear as you turn the volume up and drive off. The city becomes a blur and the clock ticks back at you with each and every stop.
The last apartment. A pink building that’s chipping and full of overgrown vines that reminds you of a photo you saw at a pop up show once. You walk up the steps, the last two boxes in your hand.
“O’hara…”You mumble, “O’hara, O’hara- ah ha, there.” The loud buzz of the intercom makes you recoil as it echoes across the street. A minute later a voice rang through, words muffled and unintelligible
You shift nervously on the balls of your feet. Leaning close to the speaker against your better judgment.
“Hi! For Mr. O’hara?”
More words? You’re sweating at this point. You’re almost hitting your two hour mark. A second later another buzz rings through and the door unlocks.
You sigh, muttering under your breath. “Oh thank god.”
You quickly swing the door open. Scaling the steps once you see yellow caution tape and a note stuck to the elevator.
By the time you reach the fourth floor you’re huffing. Holding onto the railing you catch your breath.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,”You huff in exasperation. Eyes wide as you see every door number is faded or falling apart. “These people need a better landlord.”
You almost shriek as you see what time it is when you look down. You have less than fifteen minutes.
Running through the numbers as best you could. You settle on a door with punk themed stickers. You hope this is the apartment or the tenants will at least be nice enough to point you in the right direction.
Before you can even knock the door swings up.
“What do you mean-”
You stand there visibly in awe as you stare into the most beautiful set of eyes you’ve ever seen. Silver piercings and earrings decorating his face. Wicks pulled back into a ponytail.
“Oh hey! Can we help you?” A second face pops out from the side of the door. A kind smile on his face.
You clear your throat as you avert your gaze. “Yes, uhm, I’m looking for 4D?”
“O’hara?”
You melt inside as you hear his accent. British? But not exactly?
“O’hara,”you confirmed. Smile wobbly as you force your butterflies down. You really need to get out of here.
You don’t notice the two exchange a look.
“Oh, that’s us love.” He grins as he stares down at you.
“Great!” You beam. Mentally storing the name in the back of your mind. For what? You don’t know. It’s not like you had the courage to ask for his number.
It takes you less than a minute to hand the boxes over.
“How much do we owe you?”
This confuses you but your smile never wavers. “I’m sorry, I’m pretty sure you prepaid online.”
“Right right!” The second boy nods. Dragging his friend inside by the arm and snatching up the pizza with his free hand. “Thanks!”
The boy with wicks sends you a wink before closing the door behind them.
You wait until you’re out of sight to swoon. It lasts for about five seconds when you realize it’s been exactly two hours.
-
Yuri’s too busy when you come back to scold you. So the rest of your shift goes smoothly. Your mind drifting to the boy every once in a while. A small smile on your lips.
The phone rings and your bliss is broken. You hold your breath as insult after insult hits your ear through the receiver.
You feel like an idiot. The boy’s pretty face fading into obscurity. You blink back tears as you talk with the real Miguel O’hara.
What a shitty night.
-
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