#allergic hobi

[setsuuestsu]

Rabbit Be With You 🐰

Pairing: Sope (romantic)

Sickie: Hoseok

Caretaker: Yoongi

Yoongi watches as Hoseok kneels at eye level by Flop’s cage.

“Hyung-ah, he’s so cute.” Hoseok cooes. “This is my first time being so close to a bunny.”

“Just be careful.” Yoongi warns. “Bunnies can be ruthless if they want to be. They just hide it under all this fluff and pudge.”

Hoseok pauses. “Kinda like my Jungkookie?”

Yoongi nods. “Exactly like your Jungkookie.”

Hoseok sighs. “I hope Flop loves our home forever and ever.”

Then, Hoseok’s face gets all pouty in the way that Yoongi thinks is kinda hot. “What is Flop gonna want to do? Do you think he’s gonna sleep this entire time? Will he even want to play with me? What if he thinks I’m hideous?”

The younger pauses. “And what are we even gonna feed him?”

“Uhhh …” Yoongi tries to wrack his brain for any loose rabbit knowledge. “Carrots?”

It makes Hoseok laugh, which was obviously his intention all along.

“I wish Flop could stay with us.” Hoseok murmurs, flopping dramatically onto the floor next to Flop’s cage. After a moment, he gets to his feet and lifts the unnecessarily large rabbit in his arms. “If only we weren’t fostering him.”

He buries his face into Flop’s fur, as if to give Yoongi an accurate representation as to how miserable he is going to be without Flop to look after.

Yoongi snaps a quick picture to discreetly set as his wallpaper later on. “Well, at least we’re able to foster him for three days. The landlord should be here in a week, so at least the demonspawn will be out of here before hand.”

But then he hears a small sniffle.

At first, he thinks the younger is crying so he walks over to where Hoseok is crouched and pats him on the back.

”It’s okay, it’s okay, I know you want to keep the bunny.” Yoongi says, trying to calm the younger down (and panicking himself). “We can ask Jin for help since he, for god knows what reason, has all this blackmail on the landlord.”

For Hoseok, Yoongi would absolutely be ready to adopt this bunny.

Hoseok sniffles again and when he still doesn’t get a response, Yoongi frowns. “Seok? Are you alright?”

Hoseok gives him a look. “I’m not crying, hyung.”

Welp.

“There’s no witnesses, so it didn’t happen.” Yoongi insists, stamping his foot, not unlike a fussy child. But then he furrows his brow and looks at Hoseok. “Are you alright?”

Hoseok looks surprised at being called out, plopping Flop back down in the large cage where the large rabbit promptly passes out. “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

”You’re sniffling. Are you getting sick?”

Hoseok sniffles and gives his nose a small rub. “No, I don’t think so. I just got a little itchy for a moment there.”

The elder shrugs. “Alright. What did you want to do now?”

“Cuddle with Floppie forever!”

Yoongi deadpans. “Other than that. Pick something reasonable.”

Hoseok sniffles again, scrubbing at his nose. His nose is getting a pink hue to it now and Yoongi knows that something is going on.

“Are you sure that you’re feeling alright?” Yoongi asks, moving to feel Hoseok’s forehead for a fever. He’s not warm, so that’s a relief.

He’s met with a pout. “Hyungie, I’m fine. You don’t have to ask this much, you know.”

But then, Hoseok is sneezing. He’s nearly bent over at the waist, turned away from Flop’s cage so as to not sneeze on the bunny. Yoongi immediately grabs him a tissue to which Hoseok blows his nose a few times.

A few tissues later, Hoseok looks up at him with bleary, watery eyes and blinks a few times. “I don’t know where that came from.”

Yoongi thinks. The pollen count outside is low, so it can’t be that. He knows Hoseok dusts the apartment religiously, so it can’t be that since their apartment is sparkling clean, so much so that it’s not uncommon for Taehyung to use that as his excuse to eat off of the floor. There’s no strong scents of candles or new perfumes in the apartment and there’s no animals arou—

Shit.

He turns as he hears Hoseok sneeze a few more times in rapid succession and his poor Seok is red in the nose and his eyes are watering so much.

“Seok. Come.”

Hoseok wrinkles his nose, which causes him to let out a soft sneeze. “I’m not a dog, you know.”

Yoongi huffs and drags Hoseok (gently) to their bedroom. “Sit. I’ll grab your antihistamines.”

“What?” the younger questions. “Why would I need those?”

“The dander.” Yoongi says. “From the living Build-A-Bear.”

Hoseok huffs. “The rabbit has a name, you know.” He sniffles and rubs at his nose again.

“Stop that.” Yoongi scolds gently. “You were just holding him. Go take a shower and wash up. I’ll leave the meds here for you for when you’re done. I have to find someone else to take care of this thing.”

“No!” Hoseok exclaims, but then falls into a fit of coughing afterwards. “We’re Flop’s parents! We have to adopt him, hyung! Please?”

Yoongi sighs. “First off, we can’t keep pets because of the landlord. Second, you’re allergic. And third, I don’t want to clean up shit all the time.”

Hoseok gives him a teary look for a hot second until he has to turn to the side to sneeze.

“We’re only fostering for now. Can we keep him? Just until we find his forever home?” Hoseok pleads, sniffly.

“Hell no. Who knows how long that is?”

As if it’s magic, Yoongi’s phone buzzes with a message. He quickly reads it and maybe there is a God after all.

“Someone put in an offer for Flop.”

Hoseok looks crestfallen, but Yoongi isn’t going to sacrifice his boyfriend’s health for a stupid rabbit who he will absolutely not miss at all.

Yoongi continues reading the message from the shelter. “It’s some kid named Soobin. Apparently he needs emotional support after having to deal with his four roommates?”

Hoseok nods numbly, sniffling, then sitting onto the bed. “I guess it’s better that Flop will have a good home …”

Yoongi pats the younger on the shoulder. “Go say goodbye. Flop’s leaving in an hour and you should go shower.”

“An hour?!”

And he’s gone.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Instead of showering or taking the antihistamines, Hoseok spends his last hour with Flop with his face buried in the bunny’s fur, only changing positions to sneeze frequently and handing the bunny off to Yoongi for breaks to blow his nose.

“Hyungie, I really want a dog.” Hoseok comments after sniffling.

Yoongi gives him a look. “What kind?”

The younger grins. “Guess?”

The elder huffs. “Does it have wings?”

“No.”

At least it’s not a bird. “A tail?”

“Yes!”

“Does it walk slowly?” If it walks slowly, maybe Yoongi will get along with this pet.

“Nope!”

Oh shit. “Does it have legs?”

“No.”

“Does it swim?”

Hoseok grins. “It does!”

Please don’t be a shark. “Shark?”

“Hell no.”

“Jellyfish?”

“Where would we—“

Hoseok sighs once he realizes Yoongi is done guessing. “I was going to say a goldfish …”

A fish Yoongi can deal with.

At least then Hoseok wouldn’t have to worry about anything.

(Until Yoongi misplaces the fish one day)

[astoundinglyhugespaceobject]

fiction im planning to write

once i finish my hw and do an evaluation on how to properly write hobie and gwen im gonna try to write a sort of prequel to atsv??? like when gwens first adjusting to being away from home and stuff also i think it would be really funny to write about living on a boat without personally ever stepping foot on one (hobie lives on a canal boat)

heres my original paragraph from the google doc i wrote

prequel to atsv where gwen gets rescued, meets hobie, who silently fangirls over her the first time they meet due to the fact that he’s a huge fan of the gwen of his universe (punk rock star, ‘. . . is a legend! maybe the most influential musician– the greatest artist– of our generation’ in hobie’s own words from the comics) but also aids gwen in coming to terms with her trauma and the first months she lives w him on the BOAT. like i imagine she’d be really uneasy but thankful but also it would be kinda funny if hobie helps her with seasickness and is like “it doesn't get better once the boats moving, but you’ll get used to it i promise” and just introducing her to his taste in music stuff like that, being a makeshift therapist and overall a decent older brother to her!!!!! (figuratively because they're not related) giving her solid advice and gently guiding her like i would love that!!!!!! i'm loving making this up fr

[kekaki-cupcakes]

Practising drawing my newest oc, Dara

[7ndipity]

Leaving For The Military

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How they would be with their crush or S/o before enlisting and how they keep in touch.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anons who requested this! I debated on whether or not I would post something about this, but since several of you asked, I decided I would. I did decid to make this more fluffy/crackish tho, cause I don’t want y’all getting too sad.(also, I struggled with this one a bit, so I’m sorry if it’s shit)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

I think back a lot on how he said before that he’s allergic to seriousness, so other than when he first tells you about going, I think he tries to keep things really light and upbeat.

Probably spends the whole week before leaving asking you to shave his head. “I’m not doing that!” “Why not? It’ll be a bonding experience!”

Leaves several little notes/letters for you(similar to his messages for Army) saying how much he loves and can’t wait to see you again. Plus, you’ve seen how frequently he posts on weverse, so you know he’s texting/calling you all the time.

Yoongi:

Since he’s in public service and getting to stay close to home(I think?), he really tries to avoid making a big deal out of it. Like, it’s obviously still a major shift in his life, but being able to still see/talk to you regularly would make it a lot easier.

If you live abroad tho, he would take it a bit more seriously, making sure the two of you talk as regularly as possible.(since they’re not allowed to travel abroad during service)

Literally keeps a list of things he wants to tell you/talk about whenever y’all call/video chat so he won’t forget anything.

Hobi:

He makes a point to spend as much time with you as possible before he leaves, making little bucket lists of things for the two of you to do together before and after enlistment.

Lowkey keeps flexing in his uniform(you’ve seen his insta, you know it’s true) “I look kinda good tho, right Babe? Babe?” *😑agrees but won’t admit it*

He misses you so much, and he calls/checks in with you every chance he gets(honestly, y’all talk more than me and my besties, lol)

Namjoon:

He’s rather solemn and serious about the whole thing, though he tries not to talk about it too much, trying to focus more on enjoying your time together rather than dwelling on what’s to come.

Y’all probably spent the whole night before he left awake and talking about anything and everything, not wanting to lose any time together on sleep.

Tries to call/message you as often as possible, getting over-excited to catch up on what’s going on in your life and share what he’s doing.

Jimin:

He spends the last couple days before leaving practically fused to your side, trying to soak up as much time with you as possible. He doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s anxious abt all of it.

Another that would probably leave you one, or more likely multiple notes/letters for after he leaves for you to read whenever you’re feeling down(totally didn’t read them all in the first week, wym?).

He messages/calls you every chance he gets(probs featuring an appearance from Jk, if it���s true abt them getting to stick together)

Taehyung:

He takes a semi-unserious approach to the whole thing. Like, he’s very sincere and open when you have the initial discussion about him leaving, but after that he’s just making little cracks about it here and there.

“You know, it’s kinda like the plot of a drama.” “It’s really not.”

He’s so dramatic abt missing you, calling you constantly. Another who would likely leave you little notes for when you’re feeling low, though his include random suggestions like eating at certain restaurants y’all like or watching your fav movies/shows.

Jungkook:

As we’ve seen with his posts from the past couple weeks, I think he would be somewhat somber when he first talks to you about everything and maybe again right before he leaves, but the rest of the time he’d try to keep things light and unserious.

(you know he’s constantly trying to get you to rub his head after he gets it shaved🙄)

Obviously, he misses you like crazy, but he tries not to let on too much at first when y’all talk, but it starts to show when he admits you’re always the first person he calls or texts.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[rahhhbananas]

IT GIRL ★

- male reader!

- fandom : atsv!

- pair(s) : miles morales x male reader

- warning(s) : not proof-read!

“How long is this going to takee???”

Pavitr whined, he sat on the fire escape stairs, mindlessly fidgeting a rock. Gwen leaning against the bars smiled, “Come on Pav, it’s Y/n. He takes hours and I mean hourssss— To get ready.” Pav groaned at that statement alone, no longer bothered about how long it would take them, but how long it take to get something to eat.

“You talkin ‘bout Y/n, the hell Miles at? ‘Is got a good sense of fashion, but not good enuff to take this long.” Hobie groaned, his own stomach growling, Gwen snorted, her eyes crinkling from how large her smile was “This is only scraping the surface of those two. Once you’ve know them for a year or two, you start to prepare ahead of time.” Gwen reached into her bag, handing the two a bag of chips. “There, that should hold you guys.”

The two thanked their prepared friend, before their attention was draw to the window that had just opened. Miles walked out, he wore a black baggy jeans, a white shirt, and ontop of it navy blue varsity jacket, with white air forces. He smiled, as if he hasn’t been making the entire friend group starve for the past 20 minutes “Miles, my guy!!!”

“Oi! I trademarked that!”

“What?”

“I’m surprised you did anything involved being in the same room as a government official.”

“Yeah, ‘ve gotten real desperate after the last situation with Pav.”

“That wasn’t my faulttt!”

“What situation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Okay..ignoring that totally normal..conversation, where’s Y/n? He’s glamorous and all, but taking this long? Is outrageous.” Gwen asked, sneaking a chip from Hobie’s bag.

“I’M HERE!! ★”

The group looked up, seeing Y/n on the set of stairs above them. He wore a cropped pink jacket, baggy jeans, white air forces, and on his back was a hello kitty backpack “So, where we feeling? Chinese, Pizza, BBQ? Oh, or Ice cream!” He rambled, not noticing the few irritated looks he got from his friends. “ANYTHING!” Pav screamed, using his hands to cover his face, “Anything, please.” Miles smiled, leading the group down the street, they chatted still deciding on their snacking spot.

“Oh! That cat café!” Gwen suggested, her eyes lite up at the thought of being surrounded by cute animals while enjoying a meal.

“Nah, ‘m allergic to cats.”

“And you care about your health for once? Shocking.”

“You don’t get it, bruv. My eyes swell so much I start thinking I’m in a kaleidoscope..”

“How does that even work?”

“We traveled through universes to get here, and that’s what you wanna ask?”

“Why don’t you say that louder, Pav? Maybe some crazy scientist will hear and try to kill us.”

“That’s so outta pocket.”

“lol.”

“Wow.”

“I have never heard someone say ‘lol’ in real life..that’s so— icky.”

“Pheww, good job, Gwen. Y/n has a new ‘ick’. Bravo.”

The group walked into the restaurant. It seemed to be based off the heros of Brooklyn, “Ugh, why’d we have to come to your restaurant?” Pav groaned. Hobie snorted, picking at the small figures of Spiderman, Miles’ black and red suit somehow blending with the restaurant aesthetic— he even noticed a few figures of the original hero, his merchandise in a corner that formed a sort of mural. The cashier took their orders, before they sat down at a booth near to the window.

“Do they have some of my merchandise!?!” Y/n looked around, his eyes searching the brick walls for some bit of pink. He sighed, giving up, slumping down in his seat, “Hey look, I think I saw some pink over there!” Hobie pointed, Y/n blinded by joy looked at where the teen was pointing to see a piece of chewed up bubble gum stucked to the floor, “…Why do I feel like we have issues, no matter the universe.”

“Hey, the people want what they want. And it’s clearly not you.”

“Wow, no consistency, or manners. Red flag there, Hobie.”

“Yikes.” Pavitr mumbled, sipping from his drink. Hobie however shook it off, relaxing more into his position. Miles took out his phone, snapping a few pics of the group waiting on their food, before the waiter arrived, handing out the dishes efficiently.

AN HOUR LATER!! ★

“Man, I am stuffed!” Hobie cackled, getting up from his seat. Gwen rolled her eyes, before looking at Y/n, he took his card and receipt back from the waiter. Joining his friends at the exit, the sun was starting to go down. “Damn, sundown already?” Hobie looked at his watch, noticing how late it truly was. Gwen laughed, “We left pretty late, because of two certain people.” Gwen jerked her head towards Y/n and Miles who were mindlessly talking about something while holding hands, the way they childishly would swing them every once and then looked somewhat endearing.

“We should head back to our universes though. Miguel set a curfew for a reason.”

“Or, we could brea-“

“Nope, the guy looked like he wanted to blow a vein last time I saw him. And I’m not looking to get chased on all fours, likes Miles.”

“Oh, come on! He wouldn’t catch us!”

“Hobart, no. We’re leaving.”

“Miguel not catching us? Hobie you are HILARIOUS!”

Gwen grabbed Hobie’s wrist, who although didn’t oppose the gesture physically, he looked to be doing it mentally “You’re lucky ‘m tired, Gwendy.” Gwen rolled her eyes, before throwing the lanky teen into the portal, waving goodbye to the two. Pavitr jumped through as well, shooting finger-guns at Miles before falling into the colorful abyss.

Miles smiled, wrapping his arms around Y/n’s shoulder. Making their route to his apartment. The couple chatted on their way home, talking about nothing important, but what’d they do when they got outta highschool, you know, the norm. Until they arrived at Y/n’s apartments, Miles walked him to the stairs, his eyes focused on Y/n’s each move.

“Thanks for buying our food today, especially with how Hobie and Pavitr ate. I’ll find a way to pay you back…” Miles mumbled, scratching the nape of his neck. Y/n smiled, grabbing Miles’ arm “No. don’t worry about it, you guys are my friends. I’d spend much more money on all of you If I could.” Miles laughed, “Yeah. But I’m starting to think Hobie’s allergic to paying for…well, anything.”

Y/n laughed loudly “And what you said earlier, I don’t have a lot of ‘icks” Miles scoffed, looking at his boyfriend in disbelief at the statement. Y/n groaned “I’m serious! You’ll never have to worry about icks, because you’re perfect.”

“Really? Thanks. 😏”

“You know, except that.”

“A smirk!?!?!”

“Yeah, it makes you look like a Sonic character.”

“What??”

“But I should go, my dad’s probably already made lunch.” Y/n kissed Miles on the cheek, before walking into the apartment doors.

“Wha? You can’t walks away like that!!”

“Is it a sonic character you hate??”

“What? No, i love Shadow!”

[the-kr8tor]

What is Normal for the Spider is Chaos to the Fly

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 8.7 k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, No specific physical description of the reader, CW violence and gore, CW blood, TW death, CW guns, CW food mention.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 3 >>> CHAPTER 4

Eyes closed, you breathe in the fresh spring breeze, the first of many this season. Pollen makes your nose itch, bees buzz around the field of flowers, yellow dots kissing the soft petals. A babbling brook sits near you, perfect spherical rocks worn down by the waters makes you want to skip them across the transparent clean water where fish lie and swim right under the currents.

The bright sun above shines down on you, its light fighting through your eyelids and through the canopy of the oak tree. Its strong trunk provides the perfect back rest, the wood is stable and protective of your relaxed form. Like the softest carpet, the green grass below is splayed under you. Blades of grass and wildflowers swaying amidst the wind just like how your lashes flutter with every soft blow of the cool air.

“Why'd you stop?” Hobie asks from below. You crack open your eyes to see his lopsided smile, jade eyes crinkling in the corners. His head is resting on your lap, fingers absentmindedly playing a tune on the beaten up guitar on his chest. There's flowers in his hair, courtesy of you. “C’mon, lovie, I was just starting to fall asleep.”

You chuckle, and he smiles wider. The sun bathes you in its glow, a halo of light around your head, a heavenly sight for a mere mortal. “You're spoiled you know.” You realize your fingers are in his hair, soft fingertips paused on his skin. Your vision goes blurry, with a blink, everything shifts back. “So spoiled.”

“Says the one who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.” He says it with no ounce of malice.

“How'd you know about spoony?” You joke, he laughs, a sound better than anything you've ever heard of. “How was work?”

“Lonesome, you didn't come by.” You tilt your head, lips pursing into a soft smile. “Do I still smell like gunpowder to you?”

“No, you smell like flowers.”

“Is it too late to say that I'm allergic to ‘em?”

You giggle, “No you're not. You haven't even sneezed.” Grabbing a daisy from his hair to wiggle it under his nose, his face scrunches up comedically, and then he fakes a sneeze. The loudness of it startles the birds nesting by the branches, wings fluttering rapidly further away.

“Good job, you scared the birds.” You look down at him, hand inching closer to the daisy ring you've made a while ago.

“What? I can't sneeze?” His eyes are glued to you, the sun paints a pretty picture of his viridescent eyes shining in the light.

With a deep inhale, you take his hand away from the guitar, slipping the flower ring you've been itching to place on his finger. Hobie seems to freeze up either in your touch or the sight of the makeshift ring. You show him your hand, an identical white flower whose stems are wrapped gingerly around your middle finger.

“Ta dah.” You say shyly. The tightness around your chest clenches at his silence. “I'll take it off, I'm sorry. I thought—”

Hobie quickly reaches up to shield the ring away from you, “No, don't—it’s brilliant. Thank you.” You beam at him as he intertwines his fingers around your own, the rings in full display. “Suits me, I think. But it looks better on you.” You inhale, the comfortable warmth is replaced by icy air. Everything shifts.

The breeze is colder now, the grass is frozen under your feet, frost clinging to each blade. The canopy is no more, only dark angled branches with tiny leaves hang off the precious oak tree. A puff of smoke billows out of your dry lips, Hobie hugs you closer, hand rubbing up and down your arm, body heat shielding you from frost bite.

“Cold?”

“Yes, very.” You shiver, and he holds you closer. “This sunset better be worth it, Hobie, I had to put down a really good botanical book for this.” You say, cheek pressed atop his chest, breath warming his neck. You'd choose him over any book.

“First sunset of the season, love. It's worth it, I promise.” Without a second thought, he takes his coat off to place it over your shivering shoulders. You huddle closer, wrapping yourself around him. Sharing your warmth.

Blue slowly ebbs away as he pulls you closer. The clouds part ways for red and orange, pink splashes across the sky, a watercolour painting that leaves you gasping for air. Or was it his lips upon yours for the first time that has you heaving for air?

Hobie kisses you with the gentleness only a lover could provide, yet with the tentativeness of someone who isn't sure you'd kiss back. The pads of his fingers brush along your jaw, ghosting over your flustered flesh. With a sigh and a pull on his jacket collar, you kiss back. Lips pecking the corner of his own, clouds of smoke mixing in, hands warm on your searing cheeks— he slowly leads you towards the same oak tree. Your back hits the wood with an almost silent thump, his hand protecting the back of your head. Eyes closed, you memorize his lips by kiss alone. Your hands knead at his nape, he shivers not from the cold.

“I'm in love with you.” He says it confidently, like he's been saying it to himself for years. He feels like he has.

“I've been waiting to hear you say that.” Your eyes meet his own in a dance. Eyes flicking down to his lips, jade eyes looking between your blown out eyes and your quivering lips. “I've been in love with you. For a really long time.” You feel his lips open, mouthing the three words back against your own. It's barely above a whisper but you know that he'll scream it if you asked.

A flash of his warm hands around your own, a glimpse of a knife carving yours and his initials on the wood that you both call home. A muffled promise lingers in your ears, soft, just like his lips on yours.

You open your eyes and you see him above you. Hobie pinches your nose with a laugh, calloused fingertips squeezing lovingly at you, emerald eyes swimming with affection. The warm air passes by, humidity stuck in your nose. The sweat of your brow is quickly wiped away by him.

“Stop sayin' that, yeah?” You don't remember what you said. “You're bloody gorgeous, she doesn't know real beauty even if it hits her powdered arse.”

“Hobie!” You laugh, hands planted on his hips, the fabric of his shirt is hitched up for easy access. “She's still my aunt, and my legal guardian.”

“Unfortunately.”

Your smile agrees with him, but if you say it out loud you're afraid that the ground will swallow you alive and Hobie will be ripped away from you.

“It's a nice day today, you plannin’ on gropin’ me the whole afternoon?”

“Yep!” You look down at where his hands are placed, palms cupping you right above your ribs. “You planning on doing the same to me?”

“Say otherwise and I'll take my hands away from you—”

“No!” You say quickly before he could finish.

Hobie guffaws loudly, face leaning closer to yours. You close your eyes, expecting the expected. Instead, his head falls on the crook of your neck, blowing warm air into your skin.

Your laughs echoes around the clearing, fading into the sound of leaves crunching under your footsteps.

Orange leaves fall down on you like rain, a puff of breeze settles in your muscles, rattling your bones. Despite the cold, you inch your way closer to him, his smile beckons you over, grassy spring coloured eyes lighting up at the mere sight of you. His back resting on the strong oak tree that carries both your names.

“You know, we could always meet up at your place now that you're the up and coming associate.” You hold your hand out towards him, his fingers slide on your palm so naturally that you think you're made for eachother. “We can stop sneaking around now thanks to you.”

Hobie feels like he can finally breathe once he has his hands on you. He twists your wrist gently, leaning down, he presses a quick kiss on your pulse, eyes meeting your own. Years of being together, and he still makes your heart race.

Warm lips on your skin, he pecks it again for good measure before leaning away and pulling you closer. His hands are around your hip, while you wrap yours over his shoulders. “We could. But even after all my hard work, your aunt still doesn't—won't approve of us together. I'm me and you're you, love. What would they say when they see their heiress skulkin’ around the harbour, hm?”

“They won't say anything because I'm good at skulking around.”

“Or they'd say you're hurtin' your prospects of a good husband.”

“Fuck them! You and my garden are all I need.”

He calls your name solemnly, “we have to face the fact that—”

“What? That I'll be stuck in a loveless marriage in the near future?” You shake your head. “I refuse.” A humourless laugh breaks through.

“Good thing you said that or this will be awkward.” Hobie takes out a pair of gold rings from his pocket, it shimmers in the sunset, cold metal upon his warm trembling hands. “It took me a hundred days to save up for them, they're scraps from the factory. All melted together to make a pair.”

“Y–you're stealing from us now?” You could barely finish your joking sentence with the sob fighting to escape your throat.

Hobie laughs, a breathy one that has you mentally making up another joke just to hear it again. “Been at it since they hired me.” He hands you one, not sliding it down your finger, no, he places it right in the middle of your palm. “Remember those daisy rings you made years ago?” You nod, eyes brimming with tears. “I've made ‘em real this time. But the next one would be pure gold, none of the mixed ones I've melted with it.” He bounces on the balls of his feet as you glance at the gold ring that is a hodgepodge of different shades of yellow gold. Some seem to be darker, some lighter. “You deserve real ones.”

“You could make me a ring out of grass and wood, and I'll still wear it everyday.” Taking the ring, you slide it into your middle finger, a promise, he says in your ears, a promise, you repeat against his lips as you slip his own ring around his finger. A promise you both carved out into the tree and into your hearts, a promise that you'd carve out into your skin if you could.

The smell of burning wood wakes you up with a start, You've woken up with tears trapped in your eyelashes.

Your eyes open to a boiling pot of brown liquid. It's familiar, awfully so that you've hated it, it reminds you of someone you'd rather not remember. Looking up at the sky that is darkened to a pale blue, turning the orange and green plains into its royal colour— The roaring open fire is the only bright thing in sight, a yellow glow amidst all the bitter blue.

The amber flames screams among the dead silence and the vast emptiness, ‘Someone’s here! Someone’s alive over here!’ yet, you don't feel like you are.

You cough from the cold, throat itching from dryness. Lifting your hands up to tug the blanket further up, you now notice the deep crescent moons left on your palms. Some even bled through the night, dried blood decorating the lines on your palms and under your fingernails.

“You're awake. Good.” Hobie's voice hits you like a carriage, sleep ridden mind still hazy. For a second you thought that you're still dreaming of him. But his solid form and smoke from his cigarette resting on a stone says he's real. Your mind can't dream of something so tethered to reality like this. “You want some?” He rattles the now empty tin cup, brown liquid dripping from the rim to the ground below.

“You're offering me a cup?”

He furrows his pierced brows. “‘course, there's plenty.”

“No, thank you. Do you have something to eat instead? Or water?” Sitting up, you wipe the sleep off your eyes. Your joints hurt, stomach gurgling, and ankle aching. You hate it here, he's the only one that's making everything bearable even though he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else than be with you. It still hurts, thinking that he does.

“Yeah.” Standing up with a groan, it seems like sleep didn't agree with him either. There's bags under his eyes, worsened by the shadow from the brim of his hat. Taking something from his pack on Buckeye, who still slumbers quietly, he holds out a canteen and a piece of dried meat wrapped in cloth. “‘ere.” The familiar scar on the back of your hand has him reeling away. He remembers the day you got it, he remembers how his hand trembled as he stitches your hand back together.

“Thank you.” You say, stiffly smiling. He nods, returning back to his seat.

Breakfast went over fast, with dawn turning into morning, and the crisp air warming down, you take the blanket off your shoulders. Bucky trotts on the road, coyotes chirp on your left and a tumbleweed passes by on your right. It feels like you and Hobie are the only people on the road, or even in the whole world.

You clear your throat, attempting to break the quiet after riding for hours in absolute silence. “So…are you an outlaw? A mercenary for hire, or even a trapper?”

“‘m one of those things, yes.”

“So mysterious. You know you're still an open book to me.” Looking over your shoulder, he grabs your chin to make you look away and to keep your eyes on the dirt road. To which you laugh at. “Yep, still an open book.” It's true that you still know him for the man that he was, but there's missing pieces of him in your mind. You intend to dive to find the pieces so you could piece together who he is today. Before you go home, before you part forever again.

“How would you know?” Hobie tamps down a smile even though you won't be able to see it. “Maybe I've changed in those five years.”

“Oh you have.” You'd know. “But I can still see through you. I know you, Hobart Brown. Or did you also change your name too?”

“It's Larry now.”

“You serious?” Looking behind, you see him sporting a smirk. A smile spreads across your lips at his playfulness, a semblance of the Hobie you once knew.

“For example?” He asks, something he might regret. “What do you see through me?”

“Well, you put this big bad façade up because it's what everyone expects you to be. But in truth, it's so you could survive here. I bet it's working well since you're still here breathing.”

“I don't care what anybody thinks, Y/N.”

“I know that too. But you still do it because you don't want them talking to you, coming close to you. I remember how hard it was to even get you to speak to me.”

“I was a kid, we were children, and I was new in town.”

“I got you to talk though. Still proud of myself that I got to see the real you.” You puff out your chest. “This place is just like our old town, you know. Harsher, yes, but this time you don't bother to try, not like last time.” Your voice lowers into a murmur. He knows why he doesn't bother, because there's no one out here that could get him out of his walled up shell just like you did. There's no one like you. “I still know you, after all these years. Even if you think I don't, or at least the version of you that you left me with.” The sky gets darker, grey clouds floating next to white fluffy ones, and you still remember how he held you the first time you shared a bed. “You've changed and I confess that I barely know this side of you. I don't know what happened to you in those five years but could you let me try to get to know you again? Just like last time?”

The clouds above darken his green eyes, something passes by them, something that has his hands gripping tighter around the reins.

“It's goin’ to rain.” Is all he could say. “We should hurry and find shelter, there's a shortcut I know.”

You inhale the sharp familiar smell of petrichor, letting it settle in your lungs, letting it drown you, letting it seep through your skin so you can focus on it rather than the flatness of his voice that lacks what you're used to.

“Sure,” you swallow thickly, nails digging into your hemp bindings instead of your flesh.

Hobie clicks his tongue thrice, a sharp almost whistle, and out runs Bucky faster on the sandy lonesome road. Hooves thudding like the rumble of the heavens above, a lightning storm races behind you, sparks of light flashing and clashing on the mountainous rocks of the west.

“Hold on,” Hobie whispers close to the shell of your ear, goosebumps spreading through you like poison ivy on skin. He leans forward, leather clad body shielding you from the harsh howling winds that approaches quickly. “This storm's comin' in fast.”

Wind whips your cheeks, cool air making you narrow your eyes into slits to protect it from the dusty debris. A silhouette of a person appears at the end of the road, you feel Hobie stiffen up from the suspicious man. Arms cage you in, the mysterious man's shadow gets closer and closer as Bucky whines and halts to a stop. Hobie hides your hands with his own, a small act that brings your mind a minute of peace.

“State your business.” Hobie says in a practiced tone, commanding like the one he used with the man who snatched you.

The old man walks with a twisted cane, a makeshift one made from an old branch. His eyes are dull and almost silver, blue rings around his irises, eyebrows thick and white, beard bushy and hair almost gone. Right behind him lies a dip in the road, a chasm from where you sat, a deep gorge from what you surmise. Right next to the road sits a dingy solemn cabin, roof looking like it's about to collapse under its own weight, hinges creaking, window shutters opening and closing harshly from the wind. A border collie barks at you, mismatched eyes unwavering, warning you of something to come.

“Just ‘ere to warn you, son.” The old stranger trembles, either from the cold or from his bad leg. “Anyone who come ‘ver down that road doesn't come out unscathed.” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his yellowed shirt. “Just tryin' be a good samaritan.”

“Yeah? Penance for the war then?” You give Hobie a look. He glances over to you in return.

“I was on yer side, son. I won't be out ‘ere warnin’ you and the missus if I wasn't now eh?”

“Thank you for the warning.” You pipe up, the brief silence has made the whole situation more awkward. “We'll try another route then—”

“No,” Hobie stands his ground, “just like she said, thank you for the warnin’ but that's the closest route to Strawberry.”

The man takes his hat off even with the intense shaking of his hand. He then places it on his chest like he's already mourning you. “Safe travels. Don't say I didn't warn ya.” With a whistle, the dog runs over to him before helping him walk home.

“Wait!” The man stops in his tracks, even the dog turns around to face you. “A storm's coming, you'll be cold. Here.” Sliding your hands away from Hobie's, you take the blanket from your lap.

“My eyes are bad but do I see you givin' me your coat?” He smiles toothily.

“Y/N—” Hobie warns.

“Yes, but it's a blanket, not a coat.” The man chuckles deeply, cheeks red and warm.

He whistles again, and the dog walks over to you. “Give it ‘ere to ol' Nellie.” The dog wags her tail, tongue lolling.

“Hi, Nellie,” you giggle as you lean down to place the fabric in her mouth. “Take good care of it. Good girl.” Hobie's hand is holding your waist, single handedly preventing you from falling over.

He remembers your kindness, how you don't falter when you see someone you can help. You're unequivocally kindhearted, a stark contrast to himself, and what he has become in those five years he wasn't by your side. He remembers how much he loved and longed for you. He needs to know who sent the letter on his behalf, but it can wait, maybe he'll thank them when he does find them.

You don't notice him look at you with the same expression he had years ago.

With a happy wag of her tail, Nellie skips over to her owner, handing him your blanket. “Thank you, miss, you've got a kind soul.” There's warmth in your chest, nodding towards the man. “You take care now. And you.” He looks over your companion. “Better watch her back and protect her kind soul eh?”

“Get inside, don't want you gettin' my blanket drenched.”

A laugh billows out as he waves you away. Entering his humble abode with a loud bang of his door.

“I think we should listen to him.” You say above the winds.

“We'll be fine,” Hobie's voice is softer. “I've been ‘ere before. Just listen to me, yeah?” He kicks gently, and Bucky takes his cue to run in the same direction again.

“If I listened to you back there then the poor man would've shivered from the cold.”

“And now you'll be the one shivering from the cold.”

“He needed it more than I did.” You almost scoff as you hold on tighter around the horn of the saddle while Bucky trudges downward on the slope and into the gorge.

“Don't expect me to get you a new one.”

Now you scoff. “Then don't.” Yet, your chest clenches from his words.

Buckeye finally slows down halfway through the gorge. Hobie inhales deeply, jade eyes flicking above the rocks. The walls seem to close in on you, fifty foot tall walls of ancient stone looming over you. A stream runs along the path, murky brown water splashing with every movement.

“Why'd you slow down—?” Your eyes widen at the moving figures above. “There's people up there.” You whisper as you watch them observe you. The bows on their back gather your attention, eyes piercing through you than the sharpest of arrows. Hobie suddenly grabs your chin, still gentle but with a sense of urgency this time. He turns your head towards the road, rough leather sliding from your chin to your hands.

“Keep your eyes on the road. And keep your mouth shut.”

“Will they let us pass?”

“Yes.” He says immediately.

“Do you know them?”

“Yes, now keep quiet.” Tipping the brim of hat in respect, you do as you're told. “Or they'll be the one askin' me questions. And we don't have time for friendly banter.”

When he says those words, you hear a whisper of his name from above, then a bout of laughter echoing downwards. Subtly looking over your shoulder, you see him crack a small smile.

You turn back towards the road, a soft morose smile on your lips from how much you've missed from his life. You want to know what happened to him in those five years, to be told stories of his adventures under the campfire. To be part of those stories once more, not whatever you're in with him. An afterthought, a burden.

You're starting to feel all the love he once gave you was just from your mind. Made up by you, dreamt and imagined.

—

The cave you've found shelter in is perfect. It's big enough to house you and Hobie, even Bucky rests inside, dry and happy while his dark eyes follow you— as if trying to keep an eye out for you. The cave protects you from the hammering rain outside and from the lightning that pierces the clouds. You lean on the rocky mouth of the cave, hands reaching outside to cup the rain and feel the sharp water droplets drench your skin. Lifting your head up, you watch the sky. The storm has no end in sight, yet, there’s a bit of light passing through the grey, a ray of sunshine that brings hope, blue peeking in between the dark clouds.

Water splashes against your flesh, cleaning the tiny gashes and dried blood that you're not sure is all from your body. The rope that binds you is soaked, weighing heavy around your wrists like steel bracelets.

Wind howling, lightning cutting through the sky like a bullet through skin— You don't feel his heavy gaze on you.

The roaring fire behind you provides warmth just like the man tending to it. And like the fire he's tending, he realizes that his affection for you still burns him inside out no matter how he tries to snuff it out.

The fire crackles, you watch your shadow dance with the flame's movements. You still don't feel his heavy stare on your back.

With a forced smile, an idea pops in your head. You let the water on your palms fall, flicking away the droplets, making your own patch of rain.

“I've got a proposition.”

“Come eat, smelly” You both speak at the same time, amusement flashes behind his precious emerald eyes that's illuminated by the embers.

"I don't smell." You laugh in between, loving the fact that he seems to be in a better mood. Sniffing at yourself, you scrunch up your nose from the smell. "That much. You're not any better.”

Hobie shakes his head, hiding the curl of his lips with the brim of his hat. He places a can of peaches in your direction. “We'll be in Strawberry by late afternoon. There's an inn there where we can rest and bathe.”

Sitting down next to him but still giving him enough space, you tuck your legs under you, wiggling your hands in front of him.

“Can you untie me now? I'm not going to run, Hobie. Where will I go?”

“Tell me about your so-called proposition.” Hobie raises a brow, teeth biting down and clenched around the leather before fully yanking his glove off. You suddenly feel hot when he unties your hands without another word.

There's no identical ring around his finger. Your happiness is snatched away at the sight of his empty finger. What was once a promise is now gone from his flesh that you used to trace with your own hands.

Clearing your throat, you watch the shadows on the cave walls flicker behind him. “W–we take the scenic route. I want to see the sights the new world has to offer. Before returning.” You don't even want to call it home anymore.

“The new world? You sound like a grandma.”

“You saying ‘state your business’ wasn't any better, grandpa.”

Hobie's eyes meet your own, green eyes aglow. A remnant of the Hobie five years ago. You could get used to this, his warm gaze that soothes you from the inside out, something that you never took for granted before but never thought you'd miss dearly. You welcome it back with open arms. Even if it was brief.

A flash of bright lightning hits outside your cave, startling you, free hand placed on your quaking chest.

“It's just lightning, love.” A freudian slip, a term of endearment that travels you both back in time. Now that he said it once more, he finds that it still fits you like a warm hug on a cold winter's day, or a first kiss, one of many.

Slowly turning your head, your lips tremble, eyes watering from a silent cry. You try to reach for him, but he deflects your touch by twisting around on his seat, taking a swig from his canteen. The only one that he has.

Quietly eating, your insides are yelling for you to hold him close, to be near him, to hug him until the screaming stops. You can't satiate the feeling, it bites at your bones, chewing, eating at you, going hungry, starving. You stand up, leaving the can of peaches on the ground, returning to the mouth of the cave so the feeling will ravage you alone once again like it always has for the past five years. You've survived this long, but there's barely anything left of you now— a husk, barely a speck, so you cry and cry, sobs muffled by the rain.

You don't feel his gaze on you. He feels the same gnawing feeling in his belly, crawling up to his chest, eating what's left of his heart like a vulture that carries all his grief and guilt.

—

You're back on the road again, the ground is wet and muddy. Clay and grass sticking to Bucky's hooves as he trudges along the soil. You purposely don't remind him about the missing rope around your wrist. Loving the freedom the lack of it brings, you brush your fingers through Buckeye’s hair; dark wavy tresses that reminds you of fine silk.

“You take good care of him.”

“You said that already.”

“I know, I'm just saying it again for emphasis. I hope you're taking care of yourself too.”

You feel him shift in his seat, fatigue rattling his bones that's exacerbated by the rocking movement.

“Do you feel alright?” You ask, looking over your shoulder. His eyebrows are furrowed, sweat dribbling from his forehead.

“‘m fine.”

“You don't look fine. Riding bareback this long hurts, we can switch places—”

“It would be better if you had your own horse.” Hobie groans, stretching his shoulders. Buckeye seems to notice the conversation, huffing and staring back at his rider. “‘m not replacing you, Bucky. Not yet anyway.”

The dark horse neighs, a high pitched sound that makes you laugh. “He was not happy with that.”

“He's not happy with anythin'” Hobie shakes his head at the horse, you're amused by the whole situation. “Picky eater, always demanding sugar cubes instead of a carrot or an apple. Fuckin' spoiled.” Bucky neighs again, louder this time, clearly annoyed.

“Just like his rider.” You giggle, Hobie stifles a roll of his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his pierced lips. “Careful with your comments or he might buck you off and have me as his rider instead.”

Hobie's amusement fades, his eyes hardens, a sight that has your heart thrumming loudly, a sight that you're very familiar with back at home.

“I‘m sorry— I–I didn't mean to.” You frantically apologize, shaking your head, hand reaching for his own, palm hovering over his gloves.

“Look ahead.” He gestures forward. “Nothin' to apologize for, love.”

“Are you sure?” You can't seem to slow down your breathing.

Hobie notices, blinking, he tentatively takes your hand in his. Squeezing once, jade eyes searching your hurt face. Guilt passes through him.

He should've come back for you.

“Yes,” he swallows thickly, slowing down Bucky's steps. “Breathe for me, yeah?” You nod, inhaling and exhaling. “Good, keep doin' that.” Inhale, exhale, “atta girl. Now listen to me, I need you to hold on tight, and do what I say.”

“What's wrong?” Did you do something wrong again? You hold on tight just like he asked.

“Eyes up front, sweetheart.” The floodgates open, he can't stop himself from calling you those honeyed names. And you can't stop looking at him. With a gentle hold to your chin, he carefully moves it forward. You see five people waving you over further down the road. They're accompanied by a broken down carriage, three wheels missing, no oxen in sight, just a few horses hitched near them.

They call you over, grinning from ear to ear. “Oh thank God!” You hear them say, their forms getting closer and closer.

“They need help.” You say, Hobie's hand around the reins tightens.

“And we're not goin' to give it to ‘em.”

“What? Why?”

“That's bait, we're not fallin’ for it.” His eyes don't leave the strangers’ hands.

“Bait—? They genuinely look like they need help.”

“We're close to town, and they have horses. They could've gone over there instead of flagging down an armed stranger.”

“I'm not armed.”

“Yes, but I am.” With a swift kick, Hobie guides Buckeye to a mad dash. Your back hits his chest from the sudden momentum. A dull ache on your spine, a tingling sensation on his ribs.

Buckeye passes by the broken carriage, leaving dust in their eyes. “C’mon, Bucky! Get us out of ‘ere, boy!”

Wind in your eyes, you look behind, your heart falls in your stomach when you see them follow immediately on their horses, guns drawn, aiming at Hobie.

“Oh fuck!” A bullet whizzes past your head, missing you by just a few inches. You feel it's hot searing metal fly past, “they're shooting at us! Why the fuck—!”

Hobie twists, with one hand on the reins, and the other on his gun, he shoots down one man with precision. The bullet hits its mark, right in his heart. A fountain of crimson splashes from his wounded body, his feet still strapped in the stirrups, flinging the now lifeless body around like a window shutter in a storm.

Hobie shoots again, a horse falls, another bullet, and one gets iron in their gullet. And another and another, one on the leg and one on the shoulder, but they still ride on. Until Hobie's gun clicks, its chamber now empty, in slow motion, you see the remaining survivors use the opportunity to aim at Hobie's head. With quick thinking, you twist uncomfortably, body stretching behind to grab the hunting rifle strapped on Bucky's back. Within a second, you sit upright with the barrel pointing at them.

Hobie sees it all happen while he frantically reloads. His gun jams from carelessness, heart beating like a snare drum, fingers frantically trying to fix it. The sun is in his eyes as he sees you cock your head over his shoulder, the long barrel of the rifle is placed atop his leather jacket, finger itching to press the trigger.

“Duck.” Your voice is calm as Hobie follows through your command, the firing pin ignites, sparks fly, the smell of gunpowder permeates the air, bullet whizzing and hitting your mark— Right in between the eyes.

Gore explodes from what used to be a head, then a scream from the remaining target. Hobie steers Bucky, whilst you fight. Fight for him, and for yourself.

Pulling the bolt handle, without missing a beat you release the shell with a clink of metal. The remaining man looks at his dead companion in horror, still riding on next to him, now missing a head. Just like they did, you use the opportunity to reload, hand reaching for Hobie's gun belt, taking what you need, reloading with an expert hand. You pull the bolt to place the bullet, pushing it in, you aim once again. At the same time, the man screams, aiming at you. But you're faster.

Inhale. You shoot, hand steady, eyes focused.

A wet squelch can be heard, then a body thuds harshly on the ground as a horse neighs, crying and trotting wildly. You finally exhale. Hobie reins Bucky in, hooves digging in, he stops.

“Holy shit.” Hobie stares at you with a growing smile, cheeks aflame, not from the adrenaline nor the fight. “You can shoot.”

“You taught me.” Your eyes doesn't leave the violence you left behind.

“Yeah, but not like that!” He laughs in disbelief. His heart hammers in his chest, and he remembers all the times he held your hand in his while he teaches you the basics.

“What do you think I've been doing since you left?” You swallow thickly, nerves catching up, hands trembling around the rifle. “My books can only take me so far until I've read the entire library.”

Hobie holds your cheek, face concerned, thumb running along the tear you don't notice slide down your cheek. “Can you look at me, lovie?”

Slowly but surely, you turn your head. “We manufacture guns, Hobie, it's important for me to learn.”

“I know, but shootin’ it at people is different.” He would know, he worked at the same place. “Are you alright?”

“Now you ask me that?” You hand him the rifle, breath shuddering. “Can we go now, please?”

Hobie could only nod, hand itching to hold you again.

—

You finally reach Strawberry, it has a sweet sounding name but it's anything but sweet. The streets are thick with mud, the smell is much better than the other town but it still makes your nose itch. The place is situated on the foot of a mountain, the air is cooler with heavy winds persisting. Rows and rows of establishments lie along the road, a saloon with a balcony on your right, a doctor's office on your left. Convenient, you think.

A brothel sits next to the saloon, women gathered around on the porch, smiling and hollering at the people who pass by. Hobie garners their attention, (who wouldn't be?) despite riding with you on the same horse. He doesn't give them any attention, a disappointment on their part. His eyes are too busy looking over your profile and the inn that's situated on the hill.

You flick your eyes over to him, as if he has a sixth sense, he stares back. “What?”

“Nothing.” You whisper.

Hobie hides a small smile over your shoulder. He stops Buckeye at the front of the inn, hopping off, he hitches his horse first before giving you a hand, surprising you.

Without a second thought, you take his outstretched hand, bare against his leather clad one. You land carefully on the soft ground, cringing at the wet squelch of mud on your shoes.

“I need a bath,” you stomp over towards the porch and out of the mud. Hobie's hand finally leaves your side once you step foot on the steady planks. “And a nice bed.”

“That's why we're ‘ere.” He says while he takes his pack from Bucky's back. Giving the horse a pet and a much deserved sugarcube. He whispers something to the horse, to which Bucky neighs in reply. Stepping on the porch right next to you, the dark horse nods at his rider.

You laugh at them. “What'd you tell him?”

“I promised him a place at the stable so he could get a proper rest. ‘m gonna take him once you're inside.”

“Are you gonna leave me here?” Panic sets in your stomach.

Hobie furrows his brows, “no, ‘course not.” I'd never do that. He thinks, but he already did, years ago. “C’mon.”

Bucky neighs to you this time, tail swishing behind him. “G’night, Buck.” You give him a small wave. “You did a good job today.”

Entering the inn, the smell of pine and something fruity catches your nose. Its walls are all wooden, lined with old photos and animal furs. There's a fireplace in the common area where a couple of people sit and chat by the fire. The place is cozy, it's the first time you feel like you can finally have a nice comfortable place to sleep in since you landed in America.

Hobie knocks on the reception desk, leaning on the table, clearly tired and weary. Whilst you try not to think about what you did earlier, you roam your eyes everywhere in an attempt to push all the thoughts away, to kick the gore you saw, and the act that you've executed far far away from you. Your hand trembles at the sight of a deer head hanging on the wall. Then you remember the man whose head you blasted to pieces. Heart beating faster, breath stuck in your throat, Hobie suddenly takes your hand— squeezing, reminding you to breathe.

Before he could comfort you further, a middle aged man appears behind the desk. Shoulders broad, mustache well maintained and curled at the ends. Blue eyes wide and full of wisdom.

“Welcome to Strawberry inn.” He says in a comfortable yet deep tone. His eyes flick towards your intertwined hands, lips smiling faintly. “The name's Finn, room for one?”

Hobie clears his throat, taking his hand back on his side. “Yes, two beds.”

“Ah, a conservative couple eh?”

“Sure,” Hobie acts, nodding along.

“Name?”

“Larry Smith. And baths for the missus and I.”

Finn nods, showing him a sign on his desk. “three dollars for a regular one, five for a deluxe bath.”

“Deluxe?” You ask, curious.

Hobie beats Finn to the punch by explaining it himself. “It's when a woman helps you scrub down.”

You blink twice in quick succession. “Oh.” Cheeks warm, you awkwardly bounce on your feet. “A–are you going to take the deluxe one, Ho–Larry?”

“I might.” He says with a smirk, eyes shining.

“Okay.” You crane your neck towards Finn, “what's our room number?” Your tone inches towards something that has Hobie amused.

“Uh, three—” You're already snatching the keys from him and then quickly speed walking up the stairs. You turn to the right, Finn calls after you. “Left side, ma’am.” Frustrated, you walk the other way. He then turns towards Hobie with a shake of his head. “Happy wife, happy life, english. Don't tease her like that or you'll end up sleeping in the stables.”

Hobie bites his tongue so he couldn't laugh. “I know that now, thanks, mate.”

—

You feel nice, nicer than you should be after what you did. There's a pebble inside you that keeps growing and growing in the pit of your stomach right next to the boulder that has resided there for years. You have no idea what is, but you want it gone just like how you disappear under the tepid water of the tub.

Hobie has laid out clothes for you, it sits on the chair in the corner. A white work shirt that smells like him and a pair of clean socks. Your skirt hangs on the doorway, days worth of dirt and dust clinging to it. The walls are thin, you hear the hinges squeak in the next room, the arguing couple above; and a child's cry from below. The water laps at your chin, now cold and icy on your slowly freezing skin. Like muscle memory, you hold your hand up, the jagged long scar across the back of your hand has you tracing the remnants of the injury— what he used to do to remind you that he's there, that you're safe. But when he left, when he disappeared into the night, leaving you to the horrid predetermined life, you had to do it yourself. You had to carry yourself everyday with the heavy boulder in your heart, surviving each day without him, hurting, rotting in that damned empty mansion you never asked for.

You thought you could finally take the boulder out of you and place it down once and for all when you saw him. it's still there, weighing you down like a hundred ton steel of grief and longing. You don't resent him for what he did, running away, leaving you when the night before he promised you sweet words, words of freedom, words of an escape. No, you don't hate him. Yes, there's days where you would curse his name, but it never lasts. It never does, even now. You still love him even when he doesn't feel the same way anymore.

Your eyes prick from all the unshed tears, everything makes you cry nowadays, even the old lonesome man you met on the road brought a tear to your melancholy eyes. But you can't seem to find the courage to cry in front of him, to let him see your salty tears flow out of you like a raging river of sorrow. And moreso, you're afraid, afraid of home, afraid of what's waiting for you at the end of the road. Whether it be a coyote with its maw opening to lunge at your neck. Or a rattlesnake ready to strike silently at your open wound.

You're not afraid of him, you're afraid to lose him again to the coyotes and rattlesnakes.

Lifting both hands, you watch the blood that collects within the lines of your palms. Rubies ebbing into your life line, your love lines, and into your death— you'd carry the life you've taken until you're six feet underground, decaying, milky bones turning to dust, food for the worms. And yet, the blood in your hands would stay there, even when your hands are eaten by the soil, brought back to where you once came.

Hobie's right, this place changes you. Molds you into something that can survive its harsh environment, just like the plants you once read about. And just like the coiling vines, the flowers that wait and bite their prey; the leaves that kill when cut— you intend to survive the harshness of it all.

With a deep inhale, you leave the metal tub. Water splashes across the floor as you stand up, the even colder air leaves goosebumps in its wake. You dry yourself and dress like an automaton, movements rigid, eyes blank.

Opening the door with a creak, you're met with Hobie standing in the hallway, just across from you. His hand still lingers around the doorknob, viridescent eyes blinking slowly at you.

For a second that felt like hours, you watched each other. How his eyes flick over your form and over his work shirt that you wear. How water still clings to his chest, soaking parts of his white shirt. And how his finger twitches around the doorknob whilst steam escapes from the slits in the doorway. He observes you with vigilant eyes, how your lips are slightly parted, chest breathing heavily. And how much your legs are begging to run towards him, feet pointed in his direction, heels lifted up slightly, but you don't. You don't run to him, instead, you toss him the keys to the room before he could ask for it himself. He catches it with ease.

“You're closer to the room.” Walking closer, you rub your arms for warmth.

Hobie sniffs, hand wiping a stray droplet from his forehead, pack slung over his shoulder. He unlocks the door that's a few steps away, with a click, he opens it for you.

“You look like you're about to pass out.”

You push past him, trying to smile, but you fail. “I feel like I will in a second—” pausing by the doorway, you sharply inhale. “You asked for two beds right?”

“Yeah— fucker.” Hobie clicks his tongue at the sight of the single bed standing in the room. “I'll go get our rooms changed.”

“I'm fucking tired, Hobs.” You lumber your way towards the inviting bed, too tired to even check the room and its sparse décor. “Complain tomorrow. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before.”

“That was different—”

“How is it any different?” Shucking off your shoes, you blink at him through tired eyes. “It's just sleeping next to each other. We were doing anything but that back then.”

He curses breathlessly under his breath. “Fine, don't hog the blanket.”

“Don't kick in your sleep.” You smile for the first time since you pulled the trigger. Slithering inside the warm covers, you lay your head on the lumpy pillows. Heaven to you after sleeping but nothing on the ground or hay for the past few weeks.

“I don't kick in my sleep.” Hobie does the same, laying next to you, giving you enough space in between. “You're the one who kicks in your sleep. Like a fuckin' donkey.”

You lay on your side, inching closer to him. “Please, I'm more of a mustang, not a donkey.”

“Back then you were more like the rider than a horse.” He jokes with a smug smile across his lips.

Your cheeks are aflame, laugh creeping up your throat. The heaviness in your chest subsides, the blood in your hands thins. “You wanna bet?”

Hobie's joking expression is replaced by something else. Flustered, amused, and a mix of an emotion that he has only felt for you. “Fuckin' hell, love.” He turns away from you, lest he lets his thoughts get to him. “Good night, you fuckin' minx.” He hears you laugh, immediately he wants to turn back around and meet you face to face, just like before. But he doesn't.

You're met with his back. The feeling comes back, like a cockroach that wouldn't die even with how much you try to stomp on it. It was foolish to think that he'd love you forever. It was foolish to think that he'd greet you with open arms after years of being apart. How foolish, they'd always whisper to you, naive, and stupid, always standing on the edge of the crowd, eyes always looking for something, someone. Someone that lays before you now.

“Good night, Hobie.” He mouths your next words like clockwork. “Only dream of good things.” You refrain from doing the next thing, a kiss for sweet dreams, a whisper of the three words to remind him of you in the dreamworld.

Hobie silently wishes you did.

Soon enough, soft snores can be heard from behind him. Peeking over his shoulder, he makes sure you're asleep before quietly standing up. Sheets rustling, he tiptoes over the noisy planks, breathing silent. Hobie takes a chair from the corner, propping it under the doorknob, shaking the chair, he makes sure that it's locked up tightly. He can never be sure with the simple singular lock on the door.

Once he's sure that it will hold up, he takes his gun from the hanging gun belt, checking the chamber, he keeps it on the waistband of his trousers. After checking all the windows and the fireplace, he finally joins you back in bed. Gun placed on the bedside, ready to be used just in case. Laying on his side, he faces you, observing how the moon shines just across your face. You look peaceful, relaxed, and he remembers how much he has missed you. Like an impossible itch. A craving that cannot be satiated. Incurable, until you're within reach.

His tired eyes stare at the glaring scar across the back of your hand. Hobie remembers how you got the scar on your hand, it was warm that day, searing hot whilst you ran into the woods frantically to meet him. As a result of your unmindful actions, a sharp branch takes a chunk of your skin; leaving him to sew it close for you. He reminisces of how your face contorts to pain with every suture, and how you grip his shoulder to tamp down your screams. He wasn't careful, or even thinking about how it would scar, he just wanted to get it over with so you'd stop hurting. He held you for hours after, held you more after your great aunt saw the damage. She called you broken that day.

He blinks and he's back to the present. He can never go back. You can never go back. So he inches his hand closer to yours, pinky brushing along your skin. Finally, he curls his pinky finger around your ring finger. Linking his life line to yours. Just like he always does to the identical hidden ring around his neck. Your scar peers from the side, a reminder that everything that happened before was real. That all those saccharin touches and words were flesh and blood. He wishes he could go back, to take you away the moment she called you broken.

In his sleep he dreams of you.

[quartzalynlove]

No Kisses

Pairing: hobie brown x fem black reader

Summary: Hobie forgot to kiss you before leaving. You decide to mess with him

A/n: I'm still figuring out how to use British slang so if anyone has tips I'll gladly take them

Being Spider-Man was a huge responsibility, even for someone as allergic to responsibility and consistency as Hobie. Of course, he was devoted to his city and the cause, but you never knew that devotion could surpass you.

Honestly, you weren't mad that Hobie forgot to kiss you before swinging out of the window, but it would have been fun to act like you were. He left around noon, and it was eleven at night when he returned. In the living room, you laid on the couch snuggled in a blanket and rewatching one of your favorite shows. Hobie knew where to look first when you weren't in the bedroom. Already unmasked, he went to join you on the couch. However, when he greeted you and patted your thighs for you to move your legs, you didn't budge. You kept your eyes straight ahead at the TV screen.

Hobie's brows furrowed in confusion as he waved his hand in front of your face, "baby?" He called.

An annoyed sigh came from you as you moved Hobie's hand from your view. He knew that face. The tight lips, slightly squinted eyes, and a small scrunch of your nose. You were irritated. Normally, Hobie would've thought you looked adorable in your little mood, but it was obvious you were irritated with him.

"I do somethin' wrong, babe?" He asked with a tilt of his head.

Finally, you looked at him, but it was only a quick glance before your attention was redirected at the TV. Your look made Hobie wince as his fist thumped lightly on his forehead.

"Ah, shit, what'd I do?" He mentally recounted his entire day.

After coming up with nothing, Hobie crouched next to you and placed his hand on the free couch space in front of you.

"Look at me, baby?"

Adding a slight pout for good measure, you stood your ground as Hobie tried to get your attention again.

"Babe, please." he called, but you remained a statue.

Unfortunately for you, however, Hobie knew a sure fire way to grab your attention. By this point he had caught on that you were pretending. He's seen you when you were mad at him, and you had a habit of not staying around him until you calmed down. Besides, the two of you normally had very good communication. You gave him no choice; if you wanted to play, the gloves were coming off.

Hobie lowered his voice. "Peng ting."

The statue blinked at that stupid phrase. Hobie didn't just throw that phrase around with you; it only came from the deepest part of his heart. It was like a second name he had given you. You relaxed your face without even noticing, but a smile spread across Hobie's.

"There you are." His voice was honeyed as he tapped a finger underneath your chin, inching closer.

You tried to resist, moving your face as Hobie continued to tickle the underside of your chin.

A quiet laugh came from you as you finally spoke. "Stop."

As a smile stretched across your face, Hobie felt warmth spread throughout his body.

"Nah, I thought you were having a laugh wit’ me, babe; thought you were mad at me?"

"I am!" Taking your hand from under your blanket, you playfully pushed away Hobie's face

Before you could draw it back, Hobie grabbed your hand and ran his thumb across your knuckles. Now on his knees, Hobie leaned in closer to you.

"Right." Hobie went to kiss you, but before your lips could connect you sat up, taking your hand back and folding your arms over your chest.

As you stared down at Hobie, he curiously stared back while resting himself in your lap.

"So, I can't kiss you, is that it?" He asked.

With a small eye roll, you turned away. This was really the performance of your life.

"It's crazy you wanna give me an 'I'm home' kiss but not an 'I'm leaving' one."

Hobie's head tilted, resting on his arm as his eyes searched around in thought. He looked up at you again.

"I didn't kiss you before I left?" He asked

As a reply, you simply glanced at Hobie before leaning fully into the couch with a light sigh. A small laugh came from Hobie as he began to stand before sitting down next to you.

“My bad, baby, I’m sorry,” He leaned into you, his eyes gazing over the features of your face. “But I can make it up, can’t I?”

When you turned back, you were met with a hungry smile on Hobie’s face that caused a small smirk to form on your lips.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

Hobie couldn’t stand you playing hard to get like this; he wanted nothing more than to kiss your lips, your cheeks, and nose thousands of times. Why did you have to act so cruel?

“Why you gotta act mad with me, baby?” Hobie started poking at you, but you wouldn’t give in.

You cocked an eyebrow as you glared at him, “Acting,” you turned away again. “Nah, I thought you loved me.”

Suddenly, you felt two of Hobie’s fingers turning your head one last time to meet his gaze, and his face was dead serious.

“Aye, don’t play like that, baby,” He said. “You know I love you.”

A smile spread across your face as you felt his touch on your cheek, “Do I?” you asked.

From your dark eyes to your gorgeous lips, Hobie’s eyes traveled. His entire hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking across your skin.

His voice could barely rise above a whisper, “Yeah,” he said before leaning in to place a deep kiss on your lips. “Yeah, you do.”

[milimeters-morales]

Gwen: Miles, if a girl is taller than you would you date her?

Hobie: everyone’s taller than him so he’d be doing that anyway

Margo: literally all of his relationships crash and burn so it’s not like it matters

Pavitr: isn’t he gay and allergic to girls or something

Miles: I’m right here.

[likedovesinthewindd]

Hobie with reader who loves animals and is constantly bringing them home. Feel free to do whatever with this idea.

💋💋💋this is so cute!!!

"Since when?" Hobie asked, looking down at you, as you sat with the small cat in your lap, gently stroking its back. "Since today," you said softly, smiling up at him. And he wanted to be mad at you; bringing in a cat without knowing if he was allergic or if he would even like the idea. But he couldn't find it in him to be mad at you, not when you were smiling at him like that.

"What if it has fleas or something?" he asked with a grimace, making his way to the bedroom. "She doesn't, me and my friend bathed her real good and gave her all the necessary treatments and stuff. She's squeaky clean," you said following Hobie, the kitten still held in your arms. "And everything it needs? Food and shit," he asked, and you huffed. "I bought enough of everything for now. I'll be fine, I had a cat when I was younger," you reasoned.

You looked down at the small kitten in your arms, smiling at her small pink nose and beady eyes. "He's just putting up a front, I know he already likes you," you said with a playful pout, and he only raised his brows at your statement. "Where'd you find the cat anyway?" he asked, moving closer and gently stroking from its head to its tail.

"She's a stray. I always see her when I'm walking to work and she always comes to say hello. Sometimes I'd bring her something to eat, but it's been so cold these days so I didn't see her for a while. And when I did see her yesterday, I just couldn't leave her outside like that," you explained, looking up at him to gawk his reaction. "I can keep her, right?" you asked softly.

It definitely wasn't the first time you've done something like this. He's seen his fair share of baby birds in shoeboxes. It was just in your nature; you were a caring person by default, and that extended to animals.

"As long as it doesn't scratch up my stuff, or piss on it," he says, and at once a megawatt smile stretches across your face. "I knew he liked you," you told the kitten. "He's just a big sweetheart, isn't he?" you said, laughing when you heard him scoff in reply.

He is just a big sweetheart.

[setsuuestsu]

Pollen

Sickie: Hoseok | Caretaker: Yoongi

Word Count: 992

”So why are we in a meadow?” Hoseok asks, holding his phone and taking short videos of the scenery.

Yoongi takes a deep breath. Its taking all of his meow-meow power to say what he’s about to say.

“I brought you here because …”

“Oh!” Hoseok gasps. “There’s a squirrel!”

Yoongi slips the stuffed animal he was going to ask Hoseok out with back into his pocket. “…there’s a squirrel.”

Of course there’s a squirrel.

The younger coos, taking photos of this squirrel as if it were a photoshoot or something. Yoongi huffed. It’s not like this squirrel had a manager or has performed sold-out concerts or anything, so why was Hoseok paying this bunny more attention?

He sighs. Yoongi knows that Hoseok’s attention span is that of a goldfish’s, but he didn’t think that asking the younger out would be this difficult. But he smiles watching Hoseok chase the damn squirrel around a meadow.

(And maybe he takes a few photos of his own)

But then he hears a small sneeze.

“Holy fuck, you’re getting sick, aren’t you?” Yoongi frets. “I should bring you back home. You need medicine.”

Hoseok sniffles again and gives a small, stifled sneeze. “I’m not getting sick, Yoon. I just had to sneeze.”

“Tell anyone and I will kill you.” Yoongi threatens, though there’s no real malice behind his words. (Not really)

Hoseok sniffles again, rubbing at his eyes. It’s unconvincing that he’s not sick or something, so Yoongi presses him harder.

“Stop denying it, Hoseok-ah. I know you aren’t feeling well. Let hyung take care of you.”

Hoseok gives a small chuckle. “Hyungie, you’re so cute.”

And Yoongi just about dies.

But that’s not the point.

“But hyung, I’m really not getting sick.” Hoseok insists. “I just got a little stuffy, I swear.”

Oh.

So yeah.

Yoongi nods along, pretending like he knew this from the beginning. “Yeah, I was just testing you.”

Hoseok gives him a strange look, then gives his nose a small rub. “I’m just itchy.”

He sniffles again, then shakes himself off. “Let’s make flower crowns!”

❀༉ ❀༉ ❀༉ ❀༉ ❀༉ ❀༉ ❀༉ ❀༉

In a small, secluded part of the meadow, Yoongi and Hoseok are seated amongst the prettiest wildflowers. It’s taking all of Yoongi’s willpower to not stick a flower in Hoseok’s hair.

Why is the younger so pretty?

“Hyung, do you have enough flowers?” Hoseok asks, already twirling the flowers’ stems between his petite fingers.

Yoongi looks down at his somehow dry, wilted flowers. He genuinely doesn’t know how, considering he picked the ones next to the ones Hoseok has picked.

Hoseok sniffles again.

“Seok? Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks. Hoseok has been sniffling for some time now so he’s a little worried.

“It’s nothing, I promise!” the younger insists, shaking his head, then pressing his finger underneath his nose. “Heh-“

He then rubs at his eyes, which probably only irritates them even more.

Yoongi is unimpressed. Something is going on with his lover friend and he has to find out what.

Is he upset?

Yoongi frowns. He hadn’t considered that maybe Hoseok just doesn’t want to be here and the younger would rather be at home with his dog. He puts down his flower crown, slightly more downcast.

Hoseok ducks his head down towards his chest and lets out a congested sneeze. After a few seconds, he looks up at him with a hand cupped over his nose. “Hyung, did you happen to bring a tissue with you?”

It seemed Hoseok wasn’t mad at him, thank god. Just … sneezy?

That’s better than mad, he mused.

He quickly searches his pockets, pulling out a clean napkin from their earlier lunch. “Just this, Seok.”

Hoseok immediately takes it and blows his nose into it. Yoongi cringes at the sound it makes. The younger must have been really congested.

“Better?” Yoongi asks. He waits as Hoseok pauses, folds the napkin over, and sneezes harshly into the other side.

Hoseok’s not exactly convincing him that he’s not sick …

The realization hits him like a truck.

“Seok, you’re allergic to pollen, aren’t you?”

Hoseok gives a miserable sniffle. “Yeah. But flowers are really pretty.”

Yoongi mentally slaps himself on the forehead. The signs were all there; the sneezing, the runny nose, the itchy eyes …

“At least it’s not cats…?” Hoseok offers, then sneezes twice. “If it were cats I would be …” he lets out an involuntary shiver.

“We’re going home.” Yoongi insists, no room for arguments.

“What?” Hoseok’s eyes widen. “No no no, we can’t! We have to finish the crowns first!”

Yoongi is unimpressed. “You are, quite literally, allergic to them. So no, we are not finishing them.”

He’s met with a sniffle and then at least five sneezes before Hoseok’s answer. “Please? Pretty please? I’ll add a cherry on top!”

Maybe ice cream would have made a better date because so much for asking Hoseok out. This went horribly …

“Seok, I’m going to bring you home.” Yoongi says, using the voice he usually uses to get Taehyung to take his hand out of the cookie jar or for Jungkook to turn his games from volume 71 to a more respectable volume.

Hoseok deflates, and slumps off in the direction of Yoongi’s car.

As much as he hates to see Hoseok upset, a healthy Hobi would be a happier Hobi.

When he gets to the car, Hoseok is already in the passenger seat using a napkin most likely from the glove compartment to blow his nose. He repeats the process a few times until he deems it satisfied and then crumples up the tissue and sets it inside Yoongi’s car garbage bag.

Hoseok sniffles. “I had fun. Despite everything, I had a lot of fun.”

Yoongi, mentally cursing himself, reaches for Hoseok’s hand and squeezes it. “I’m glad.”

“Next time let’s go to a cat cafe!” Hoseok cheers.

The elder’s eyes widen. “Seok, no!”

[hobiebrownismygod]

Hi luv!!

What do you think about Hobie Brown x fem!cold!reader ?!!

Like reader is really cold and tough on the outside, but when Hobie opens her up, she gets a sweet soft spot for him

it kinda gives off the vibe 'shes cold when closed but when she opens, you never want to lose her ever again'

you get me?!!!

so yeah :))

dont rush, take your time, and yeah

thank you in advance :33

this is so Hobie and my OC coded I love it!! I think I put too much story behind this little fic, but hopefully you enjoy what I came up with and as always, thank you for requesting <3

TW: fem!reader, some unexplained lore, slightly ooc hobie? idk this is how I like to imagine him but some might call it ooc, v cold angry reader

__________________

The sound of humming filled your ears as you sat above the supercollider of some random dimension, having been sent here by Miguel for a stake-out mission, searching for the footprints left behind by an anomaly he was looking for.

There was nothing here, no one there, but he'd insisted on having someone stay there a couple hours, just to make sure, and you'd volunteered, hoping to get some peace and quiet, some time to yourself in a beautiful dimension with a clear night sky.

But then, of course, Hobie Brown had to show up and ask to join you. You'd said no, twice actually, but Miguel had added that it would be better for you to go with a partner. Alone was dangerous. Alone was bad.

So you'd given in and he'd followed you into this dimension and hadn't given you a moment of quiet since he'd stepped in.

You looked over at him, gazing over the edge, drumming his fingers against the flat of the rooftop while humming softly. Did he always have to be doing something?

You swore you'd never seen the guy sit still, not even for a moment. It was like he was allergic to being quiet.

You sighed frustratedly, looking back out, only for him to notice and stop humming. He glanced over at you, a slight smile spreading across his face. "What? You didn't like the song?" he asked teasingly, leaning towards you to bump your shoulder.

You practically hissed at the motion, scowling at him before folding your knees against your chest, holding them tightly. "Alright, silent but deadly." He scoffed, tilting his head to the side slightly. "Why're you being so serious? We both know no one's gonna be here."

You stayed silent, biting at the inside of your cheek while he stared at you, progressively getting more annoyed at the fact that you were ignoring him. "Seriously? You gonna pretend I ain't here?"

You looked to the side away from him. He let out a frustrated groan, waving his hand in front of your face. "Oi! I'm right here! Why're you-" he cut himself off with a sigh, looking away, pulling his hand back. "Fine. Be that way." he said quietly.

You relaxed when he pulled his hand away, refusing to look at him as he continued to sigh dramatically. "Come on, love! You're boring the hell out of me, you know that? We're gonna be here for hours, we might as well have a conversation." He pleaded, looking back at you.

"I don't feel like it."

He glared at you. "You don't feel like it? When do you ever feel like it? Look at me, mate, I'm not one to push people to talk, but you never do."

"Maybe you should stop coming on missions with me if it frustrates you so much." You replied coldly, staring straight ahead as he looked at you with an open mouth.

"Is me wanting to get to know you that bad?" He muttered, scowling at his lap as he played with the rings on his fingers. The way he said it, like he was genuinely hurt, made your glare falter. He really wasn't all that bad...maybe just a little lonely. And you were too. But you didn't want to talk. Not to him, not to anyone.

"You can drop the tough guy act." he said quietly, looking back at you. "It's just me. I don't expect you to act like anything. I don't expect you to-" he hesitated. "to act like everything's okay all the time."

You swallowed, shaking your head. "But you're expecting me to speak up to you? I don't know who you think I am, but I'm not some sweet little girl trapped underneath a cold exterior." you said, looking at him angrily. "Stop thinking you can fix me. There's nothing to fix."

That made him stop.

He hesitated before just looking out. "Sorry." he said softly, his hands falling still in his lap. "I never meant to...to make you feel that way." he admitted. "I just...I don't know. I just thought you might be nice."

"Nice?" You scoffed quietly. "There's nothing to be nice about."

"I'm not expecting you to open up to me." He said quietly. "I just...want to get to know you, you know? I know about your canon events. I know why you act like this." he told you, gaze piercing through your soul. "And I know what you've been through. And I understand." he hesitated. "I lost my best friend too."

"Stop-" you said hoarsely, looking away at the mention of what'd you'd lost. "Don't-"

"And it feels like no one understands me." Hobie continued on, not giving you a break. "Because they're all so busy thinking it had to happen. But it didn't, right? It didn't have to happen. It wasn't...it wasn't canon. That's bullshit."

"Hobie-"

"And I know you feel the same way." He finished. "I know you think it's all bullshit too. So I guess I thought-" he inhaled sharply. "-I guess I thought we could be friends over it, I don't know." He said quietly. "Haven't had a friend who understood me in a long time."

Silence.

"I'd say I'm sorry for your loss-" you started quietly. "But I'm sure you're tired of hearing that."

He chuckled softly at that, looking back at you. "Yeah, I am. But it feels nice coming from you." he said, leaning towards you slightly.

You just shook your head. "It shouldn't. You shouldn't be trying to be my friend. People around me get hurt and you will too." You warned, voice breaking slightly as you spoke. You cursed under your breath at yourself for getting emotional, hugging your knees tighter.

"People around me get hurt too." He said softly, looking at you.

"It's not the same."

"Why?"

"It's just not!" You snapped, finally looking at him. His eyes widened slightly and you immediately tensed up, realizing you'd just yelled at him. At the only person you considered even sort of a friend.

"Just leave me alone." you said quietly, looking away from him again. "Go."

"Go where? I'm stuck with you for the next few hours, remember?" He said gently, trying to get you to look back at him. "Love, look at me, come on."

"No." you said, pulling away from him.

"Just for a second. Look at me."

You refused, closing your eyes tightly and keeping your head turned away from him.

You felt his hand slowly creep up your neck to hold your jaw and slowly twist your head to face him, your eyes fluttering open to see him staring at you, a solemn look on his face.

"I'm sorry." he said softly. "For pushing you. Really."

You looked at him for a moment, before nodding. "Thank you."

Then for a moment, your spider-senses began to tingle. Something was about to happen. You thought the anomaly showed up, that Miguel had been right, but then before you could react, you were pulled into a hug by the Spider-man sitting in front of you, your head buried into his chest as he held you tight.

You exhaled softly as his arms wrapped around you, practically melting into his embrace, his face burying itself in your hair. Your arms slowly snaked around his waist, keeping him there, and your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of being so safe.

For the first time in a long time...you felt protected. Like he was a shield, a vast embrace that shadowed you from the desolate reality of being a Spider-person.

From your canon.

And for a moment, you thought to yourself, maybe just maybe- everything would end up being okay.

He began to pull away slightly, but you didn't let him, keeping yourself against him as he let out a deep chuckle. "Not so scary after all, hmm?"

"Shut up." you whispered, face pressed into his shirt. He smelled like smoked wood, like a crackling fireplace. It was a comforting smell. The smell of home, the smell of warmth. Safety.

He actually giggled at that, holding you closer. "Knew I could fix you."

"Hobie-"

He just smiled. "Alright, alright. I'll shut up."

[literallygwenstacy]

It’s almost 1am rn and I’m bored so here’s some Gwendy headcanons! ^_^ 🥁🩵

-Loves loves LOOOVES cats but is super allergic so she never had one. She loves going to cat cafes with Miles despite her allergies. She’s one of those girls who pets every cat she sees on the street.

-Just like how Miles draws her, Gwen sometimes draws Miles in her notebook when she’s bored in class. She kinda sucks at drawing but she still tries anyways. She has a whole sketchbook filled with bad Miles doodles which her dad found in her room and was like “who tf…”

-At night she’ll cling onto a pillow or a plushie and pretend it’s Miles 🥹

-Made a whole Spotify playlist of songs that reminded her of Miles and she listens to it whenever she’s drawing him or when she just misses him. She often used to put this playlist on at night while looking at that old photo of her and Miles as she teared up knowing she’s probably never going to see him again.

-We all know Gwen is awkward, but she’s ESPECIALLY awkward around older women. Since she was raised by her dad and never really knew her mom, she sees Jess as a mother figure. Sometimes she’ll accidentally call Jess “mom” and get embarrassed as hell about it right after 😭

-LOVES video games. She doesn’t play them as much now since she’s busy doing Spider-Woman stuff but when she was younger she had a Wii which she used to play with Peter (She hasn’t touched it since he died), and a Nintendo Switch which she still uses occasionally. Her fav game is most definitely Animal Crossing.

-This kinda ties into my last headcanon, but Gwen for sure plays Mario Kart. She plays it with Miles too. She’ll sometimes bring her Switch over to Earth 1610 and taught Miles how to play it, and no matter how many times Gwen and Miles race against each other, she wins every time.

-Her music taste mostly consists of rock. She introduced Miles to a couple rock bands like Nirvana, Deftones, and Radiohead, while Miles introduced her to artists like Tyler, the Creator, Frank Ocean, and Steve Lacy.

-Is a TERRIBLE cook. She literally has to call Miles in every time she cooks something because half the time she ends up almost burning everything. She’s great at baking though, her and Miles will bake her favorite desserts together on special occasions.

-Taught Hobie a bit of drums in exchange for Hobie teaching her some guitar.

-Has an amazing singing voice but chooses not to sing in front of people. Occasionally she’ll sing for Miles though if he really wants to hear it.

-Made a whole groupchat with the Spider-Band after the events of BTSV, she’s not very active in it but when she is she just sends memes or silly cat pics lol.

-Is a huge fan of matching pfps. She always asks to match pfps with Miles and they’ll match as either her favorite characters or some silly cats.

-When she stayed at Hobie’s place she would play Roblox with him. Gwen played for fun and Hobie played to troll little kids 😭

[arachnoia]

necklace ʚɞ ˖✧˖°.| miguel o'hara

miguel o'hara x nb! reader

in which the leader of the powerful spider society falls for one of nueva york's most infamous criminals...

warnings- fluff! not proofread/it’s a drabble! reader is assumed to know/ speak spanish

———————

"He looks so sad..." Gwen remarked. Miles and Hobie nodded as Pavitr crossed his arms, "It doesn't help that his only best friend is a literal A.I!"

"That's true, mate. It’s like he’s deathly allergic to the idea of fun...And people."

The group judged Miguel from a distance, who was eating his lunch silently...and alone.

Lyla popped out of thin air. "Hey! It's not like I can ignore him even if I wanted to." She rolled her eyes and pointed to Miguel, "He needs some romance here. It's actually sad. Yesterday, his screen time was 23 hours that day!"

Miles scoffed, "You would think with allat screen time, that he would jump on a dating website-"

"Excuse me?"

Miles' eyes widened as he noticed a shadow behind him. "N-Nothing!"

"Right...Once you guys are done, we have a mission. So eat quickly and meet in my office."

Pavitr laughed once he and Lyla left, "How would he get bitches if everyone is scared of him!"

----------

As soon as they finished eating, Miles, Gwen, Pavitr, and Hobie were met with a fuming Miguel, throwing different metal parts all over the room in frustration.

"Be careful guys, he isn't happy," Margo said, sucking her teeth, "He was just looking at his monitors and just started throwing stuff!"

Hobie patted her shoulder, "Yea mate, we can tell he's not the jolliest right now."

Lyla appeared in front of them and nervously chuckled, "Heyyy guys!"

Miguel slowly turned around to glare at the four Spiders. "Let's go."

Miles raised his eyebrows, "You didn't even tell us what we're supposed to-"

Miguel grabbed Miles by his suit and fumed, "You don't ask me questions."

He let Miles go, causing him to fall as Miguel grabbed his own forehead and groaned, "You know what, stay here. I'll deal with this myself."

He started walking away as the four Spiders looked at each other, stunned.

……..

You flinched slightly as you heard the alarms go off, the screeching hurting your ears, "Damn those alarms."

You were one of Nueva York's most infamous criminals, never being caught by anyone even though the city was home to the Spider Society. That was probably your biggest flex.

You were currently walking through the rubble of the building you just exploded in order to get some stone you've been wanting. It was pretty and you saw it in an exhibition.

Plus it’s fun to get attention from what you considered your hobby; causing a wreckage of Nueva York.

You started to lean on the side of an alleyway as you played with your gold necklace, having replaced your uniform for a basic white shirt, leather jacket, and your favorite tight jeans.

“Eres una pinche pendeja. You’re a fucking IDIOT, N/n!”

You looked behind you and saw your favorite person to get attention from just a few meters away.

“Miguelito! What a pleasure to see you here!” You smiled, waving at him from afar. You mentally cheered. He didn’t have his uniform (which you have always found so sexy on him) and he had his grey turtleneck, black slacks, and some shoes you gifted him which were some retro Air Jordan 1s in black and white. You may or may not have stolen them.

You tilted your head, sensing his anger from miles away. It was amusing to witness.

“Vente pa’ca, Y/n.”

“Why don’t you make me, Miguel?”

Your teasing made him even more upset and you laughed, running swiftly towards him. You stretched your arms, gave him a hug, and stuffed your face on his chest.

“I love your sexy cologne. It smells so good, baby.”

He pulled away from your strong grip and grabbed the bridge of his nose out of frustration, “No puedo más contigo. Why did you do that?!” He said. You smiled at his upset nature and laughed.

“Babyyy, what happened to ‘Hi’ or ‘How are you’? Y tu ya sabes mi respuesta para eso.” You snickered, having your hands on your hips.

“You can’t stop? Can’t you? You’re acting like a goddamn idiot. One of these days, someone is going to catch you and it’s not going to be me,” he sneered while glaring at you.

You scoffed at him and turned your head, gazing at the destruction you caused from afar.

“Oh fuck. how could the Spider Society take this? Their so precious leader going out with me! Little ol’ me! How embarrassing,” you cried out.

“Oh yeah! Me? Spider-man? Going out with Nueva York’s most wanted? God forbid anyone finds out,” he snarled.

The two of you stared at each other before you started cackling. Even Miguel started to chuckle silently.

“M-My god! Miguel, you’re making me look like a crazy person here!” you laughed.

He rolled his eyes and smiled, “That’s ‘cause you are, N/n.”

It was quite an unexpected pairing with you two being close.

You two met at a nightclub after Lyla and Jess forced him to go in order to “loosen up”, they said.

The whole night, he couldn’t help but stare at you as you danced, in nothing but a short crop top and shorts, making your legs look long and sexy.

After mentally preparing himself, you went up to him, buying him a drink and striking conversation.

He liked that about you and how you were so confident.

You were his polar opposite.

Quite literally, after he found you out and caught you vandalizing one of Nueva York’s most famous buildings other than Spider Society headquarters.

He was a mess for the whole week to say the least.

“You know, it would be better if you joined me in a life of crime.”

You went towards him, caressing his face and gazing at his eyes.

“Just the two of us…Imagine all the fun we can have.”

He smiled as he played with your necklace, “I could think of some ways.”

Your eyes lighted up, “So you’re up for it?”

“Absolutely…Not.”

You pouted at him, “But we make such a great team. In the streets and in the shee-“

He glared at you, “I don’t want to hear you finish that sentence.”

He tilted your head upwards, using his fingers to position your chin. “Pero no creas que voy a dejar que me desobedezcas más,” he said as his thumb grazed your lips softly.

“Or what?”

His lips enveloped yours as you began to make out, him pushing you against the wall of a building in the alleyway.

“You don’t want to find out, mi amor.”

You broke from the kiss and gazed up at him. “Who says I don’t wanna find out?”

…….

Miles and Gwen looked at Miguel from across the cafeteria, frightened, “This is kind of scary…”

Pavitr nodded, “It’s like looking at a dog walk with its hind legs.”

“Mate’s smiling while eating. SMILING! The man won’t even LAUGH but he smiles?” Hobie yelps, shaking poor Pavitr as they ravel in Miguel’s unusual behavior.

Miguel then stands up and walks towards the vending mashing in the cafeteria and the group straightens up.

Before he reaches, he stops at their table and glared at them, “What are you guys smiling about?”

Gwen chuckles, “N-Nothing! Hey Miguel, your necklace accessory thing is very-“

“NICE! IT TOTALLY SUITS YOU!” Miles interrupted, smiling ear to ear to get on Miguel’s good side.

“Weirdos..” Miguel muttered as he walked to the vending machine.

While he was pressing the numbers, he couldn’t help but smile a bit and play with his new necklace he had gotten as a gift the day prior.

translations-

Eres una pinche pendeja - You’re a fucking dumbass

Vente pa’ca - Come over here (shortened version of Vente para aća)

No puedo más contigo. - I can’t anymore with you

Y tu ya sabes mi respuesta para eso- And you already know my answer to that

Pero no creas que voy a dejar que me desobedezcas más - But don’t think I’m gonna let you disobey me even more

requests are open on my page if you wanna drop one :)

[7ndipity]

I really loved your partner privileges headcanons😍😍 can you please write another part of it? but instead of gf what kind of privileges do you think they will give to someone they are not in a relationship with but have a crush on? Thank you ☺️

Partner Privileges They Would Give Their Crush

Ot7 x Reader

Warnings: None

A/N: Thanks for this request! I really enjoyed writing these, I hope you like them!

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin: You’re one of the only people who ever get to see his serious side. He said before that he’s allergic to seriousness, but whenever he sees you upset or needing to talk, he doesn’t hesitate to drop the facade and sit with you and work through whatever’s bothering you.

Yoongi: Sounds like a joke, but eye contact. Everybody teases about how he never holds eye contact w them for more than a few seconds, so imagine their surprise when he literally cannot pull his gaze away from you as you talk. Your eyes are one of his biggest weaknesses.

Hobi: Skinship. As physically affectionate as he is with everyone, this one might be hard to spot, but there are certain little actions that he only does with you, like holding your hand when you’re out so you don't get separated and resting your head on his shoulder(and vice versa).

Namjoon: Lets you see his work before anyone else. He tends to be rather private about his writing process, but he absolutely loves the way your face lights up as you listen to one of his demos or read his lyrics that don’t have a melody yet. You’ve rapidly become his biggest muse.

Jimin: You’re one of the few people allowed to make fun of or tease him. He naturally tends to be a bit defensive, but he loves when the two of you start to pick and joke with each other. It shows him that you’re comfortable with each other and trust that you won’t go too far.

Taehyung: Deep talks. Similar to Jin, he tends to steer clear of heavier topics, but when he gets around you, he becomes an open book. Late night convos with you about everything from dreams for the future to secret insecurities make him realize how hard he’s falling for you.

Jungkook: Household chores. Idk what it is, but casual domesticity just makes his heart go crazy. Doesn’t matter if it’s grocery shopping, washing dishes, laundry(remember when he did laundry on livestream?), he’ll gladly help you with any of them, just as an excuse to be near you.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[jgrills]

꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱ᐝ.∗̥✩⁺˚⑅

-before we start:

-no tw: unless your allergic to extreme fluff and cuddles.

-take care of yourselves okay? Drink some water, eat some food, relax (even for a minute). I care for you. <3

-always gn reader unless specified otherwise.

-redo of wowowo (my first hobie thing I actually wrote, and it shouldn't look like anyone elses.)

-Reader can see hobie's pattern/border.

onward!!

also thanks for 100 followers !! I'm so happy !! I'll probably do an event for it. Thank you all so much, I can't say it enough !!

｡ﾟ(ﾟ^Ｏ^ﾟ)ﾟ｡

It's 7:30 in the morning, you and Hobie are sleeping peacefully, his head cradled in your neck, while you both just cling to him and the weighted comforter over you both. The sun slowly spills into the room on the boat, making beautiful patterns of the leaves outside on the boat floor. The curtains gleaming with the sunlight, and they gently sway with the London breeze.

The bed is warm, the sound of busses, cars, chatter, and the occasional train passing. The boat sways along the dock, the bow tied to the fendor, the boat sways along with the slow breeze.

Your phone alarm rings on your nightstand, you lean over him and turn the alarm off, the cold screen of your phone makes your fingers cold. There's a sunflower pot there, given to you by Miles for you and Hobie's 1 year anniversary, the sunflower petals lazing in the sunlight, the disk flowers having a little shine on them.

Hobie grips you closer, humming in irritation of your sudden movement, his border getting more rigid, but smooth, with ZzZ's and exclamation marks appeared when you moved, but they went away as you went back to your original position cuddling him.

Relaxing.

'I'm kinda hungry..' You don't even make it a millimeter off of Hobie before he pulls you even closer.

"Don't leave.." He mumbles, eyes still closed, gripping onto your waist, feeling his breath on your neck while he has his head in it.

"I'm hungry, Hobie.."

"I'll cook..somethin' for you.." He just sighs into your neck.

"C'mon Hobie, we both know that-"

snooorreee

"Really?" You sigh, still attempting to get out of bed, his arms still around you. You gently usher his arms off of you, him still sleeping. You put your slippers on, and go to the boats kitchen.

The smell of batter reaches your nose, as you make some pancakes, flipping the golden brown pancake back on the pan. You hear some yawning behind you, then some arms wrap around you.

"Morning, Hobie.." You kiss him, and he just hums in response.

"I got pancakes ready" He immediately hypes up at this, kissing you and sitting on the couch. You put some pancakes on yours, and Hobie's plate, then place it down on the coffee table.

After finishing breakfast, you're (once again) cradled in Hobie's touch on the couch, a blanket over you two, and his quite snores echo in the boat. The soft music in the background adds to the comfort, the rhythm is smooth and it makes you relax further into his touch.

You nuzzle into him, he's now a calm shade of pink, softly snoring, while his border is full of z's. You close your eyes, and eventually fall asleep.

@chessbox

Hey! You made it down here! I know the ending was kinda lazy, I apologize. What did you think about it?

I also apologize for not pumping out these stories often, been very smoothed brain lately.

thanks for 100 followers!! Never thought I would get here, I appreciate it HEAVILYYYYY!!!

I hand you a water bottle, some food, and a blanket. ☆

[the-kr8tor]

What if R gift Blobie as a companion to Pirate! Hobie? (*/ω＼*) She rescued the lil guy/abomination from the water cause "poor cute thing can't swim just like her". It was a trick. Blobie came from water, he just wanna stay in R's sweet caring hands, except now he's stuck with her sassy pirate captain xDD They have love-hate relationship but unites when R is in danger/needs help with smth -🦊

Thank you for the lovely request, foxy!! Changed it up a bit, hope you don't mind 🫶

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, blob the symbiote cat AU, pirate AU, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“Hobie, look!” You raise the gooey cat shaped thing in front of him. Its little paws (or that's what you think it is) wiggles in your grasp, milky white eyes all round and happy.

The captain looks from the map, the sun making him squint, searing heat melting him and the sand in his pants making him uncomfortable. Good thing you're here on the godforsaken island that the map has brought the entire ship to its beach or he'll definitely be crankier than he already is.

With the sun behind you, a white halo of light around you, bathing you in its heavenly glow; he leans closer to see better, which the creature did not like at all. The little entity yowls, almost scratching him.

“Fuck!” He shouts, jumping away. “What is that?!”

“Bad Blobie! We don't scratch the captain.” You flip the cat-like creature in your grasp, scolding it. Blob's eyes blink slowly, head tilting, trying to decipher what you said. “that,” you flip him again to face Hobie, “is the captain, you don't—” it mewls angrily. “—hey! Listen, you don't scratch or bite the captain or anyone. Got it?”

Blobie lays limp in your hands, surrendering. Hobie watched on with a confused look, scratching the back of his neck. He loves how you're so patient with the creature but he is eternally confused as to where or how you got it. Especially that you only left him on his own for only five minutes. (he counted)

“Love,” he sees you carry it like a newborn baby. “Should you even be holding that? I don't think its a cat”

“Of course it's a cat! Look at his ears,” his ears droop slightly, a black mass in Hobie's eyes. “his fluffy tail” it swishes to the side, and he swears he saw it change shape for a second. “his cute little eyes and he meows! So Blob is definitely a cat!” you smile happily at Hobie. He's not convinced.

“Where'd you find it?”

“Right near the shore, under some rocks. He looked like he needed help and when I took a closer look, he was stuck under it so I helped.”

“That was very kind of you, scuttlebutt, but we can't keep him.” Hobie opens the map again, counting his steps on the heated sand.

“But he'll die here!” You follow closely. “And you said the ship has rats so he can help kill them. Come on, Hobie!”

“Finn is doing just fine handling those rats.”

You scoff, “are you sure about that? He was all moody yesterday, even grumbling to himself. Please?” blocking his path, you give him your best smile that you know always gets the all powerful pirate.

Blob purrs, clinging to your shirt.

Hobie huffs, “we don't need another mouth to feed, love, ‘sides, Yuri is allergic.”

“Oh…” he almost caves in with the sad look you have on your pretty face.

Sighing, he reaches towards you, bringing you closer to him without losing his place on the sand. Pressing his face closer to your temple, he kisses you gently, trying to get the pout off your lips.

“Sorry,” kiss, “we just don't have the space just yet. After we find this treasure and buy the second ship, we can come back for him, yeah?”

“He might be dead by then.” You look at him forlornly, “I'll take good care of him, promise. I'll give him my rations.”

“And let you starve—?” The ‘cat’ leaps off your arms, running quickly into the thicket.

“Blob! Wait!” You run after it, leaving Hobie in the dust.

“Y/N! Damn It” Taking a stick, he plops in into the sand to save his last position before running after you.

Dodging branches and jumping over rocks, your sudden scream lights his nerves. Breathing heavily, blunderbuss at the ready, he follows the guttering sound.

Hobie finds you kneeling on the jungle floor, frantically heading towards you, he holds you by the shoulders, checking for injuries.

“What–are you alright?” You don't respond, still looking behind him. “Love!” He shakes you, holding your face tenderly. And with that you grin widely. Raising his eyebrows, he follows your line of sight.

Blob digs rapidly, too fast for a cat or even a dog. His movements are almost blurred, sand and dirt flying everywhere; Revealing thousands of gold doubloons and jewelry.

Blob shakes himself clean, sitting down in front of you, tail curling around his legs, licking himself clean.

“Do you want to keep him now?” You say with a smile, hand tapping his cheek. “Hobie?”

“I think I love this bloke.” He exclaims, eyes wide at the shining treasure.

“More than me?” You joke, embracing his middle.

“Maybe.” He teases back, kissing your cheeks like a man starved.