#hyperfix wip wips

[hyperfix-wip]

Out of Time

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Word count: 4.2k

Author's Note: @pinksugarscrub , the angst that you brought me with this prompt I swear 😭 the fact that we got this done in two days is wild 🤣 also @the-kr8tor sorry, not sorry

Tags: Angst, Hurt/ No Comfort, Swearing

It was never supposed to go this far.

Soft piano croons against poster-covered walls, most of them of different movies and artists Hobie had no interest in three months ago. Instead of a creaking beaten up mattress underneath him, his body sinks into linen-lined memory foam and a plush duvet. Smooth red satin from the new bonnet you just sewed fits around his head just right, the elastic secure against his head, the material not scratching against his nape. The scent of freshly brewed tea and old books linger in the air, growing more familiar to him than the smell of motor oil and old alcohol in his shared apartment.

It was never supposed to go this far.

Faintly green stars are plastered on the ceiling, and a sense of nostalgia wells up in his chest the longer his eyes linger on them. His fingers feel naked without his rings, set aside on the nearby nightstand next to the completed camera lego set he bought for you last week– which, for the life of him, he doesn’t understand how you were able to put it together without struggling to force the pieces together. His leather vest hangs over your desk chair, the only misplaced item to your otherwise aesthetic work desk: a sticker-covered sewing machine pushed against your polaroid-covered wall; shelf lined up with sketch books and art supplies; a small whiteboard propped over your desk with your little scrawls and notes for the week; and tiny, round plush rabbit-like characters huddled in a back corner, their blank stares casting their indiscriminate judgement on him– he a lying fraud invading your personal safe haven.

It was never supposed to go this far.

It was supposed to be an easy deal, a stupid bet. Flash was supposed to hand him two hundred dollars if he dated you until the end of the school semester. He didn’t know why Flash chose you of all people– yeah, you were a little nerdy, but you weren’t like some weird freak he tried to make you out to be. Hell, you weren’t even weird to begin with– you just had different interests and liked to do things your own way, and he respected that about you.You were a little awkward when Hobie first approached you, but he didn’t blame you; you two only passed by each other through the halls, not crossing each other’s paths until Flash turned Hobie your way with a wallet full of cash and that sockable smirk on his face.

Was Hobie an asshole? Yes. He’s not gonna deny that. Not when it comes to you.

Not when he’s been slowly integrated into your routine for the past three months. Not when he’s been meeting up with you everyday for lunch. Not when he’s been walking you to your dorm every day after your guys' last class. Not when he’s been making himself at home in said dorm every Thursday night for your sacred movie nights, or when he’s gotten you to go out on dates with him every Friday.

Christ, he doesn’t even like consistency, but he has a damn routine with you now. And all of that is supposed to end tomorrow?

It was supposed to be easy. It was never supposed to go this far.

Quiet shuffling creeps into his ears, and he slowly lifts his head up from the fluffed pillow. His eyes land on you in your rainbow pajamas at the end of your bed as you adjust the lens on the small projector.

“C’mon,” you mutter under your breath as the skewed projection gradually straightens out on the blank wall, “almost got it…”

With a final twist of your fingers, the image of a pig-like man in air-fighter attire lines up on the wall, and a chortle of victory bubbles up from your chest before you tap the spacebar of your laptop nearby to finally play the movie.

“I haven’t actually watched this movie before,” you huff out as you crawl back up to him, nestling against his side as he sits back on your headboard, “but it’s made by the same studio that made the movie I showed you last week.”

A low hum rumbles in his throat when he wraps his arm around you, and he ignores the creeping warmth pooling in his chest as you lay your head over his heart. “The one wit’ the movin’ castle?”

“Yep,” you melt in his lazy embrace with a blissful smile, and he ignores the heavy weight sinking in his stomach. “That one is still one of my favorites, but I think you’ll like this one a lot more. When I watched the trailer for it, the main character kinda reminded me of you.”

Sharp thorns stab into Hobie’s throat, a barbed vine noose gradually wrapping around his neck, but he shrugs the turmoil off as he rests his cheek on the crown of your head.

“So ya callin’ me pigheaded, luv?” His voice manages to ring out in his usual deep timbre without any wavering.

A small scoff slips through your lips before you gently prod your finger into his side, earning a quiet squawk from the tall punk. “No! You two just have the same dry humor, that’s all.” With a feigned annoyed pout, you nuzzle your cheek against his chest again while turning your attention back to the movie. “But if you wanna be like that, sure, you’re pretty pigheaded.”

A teasing chuckle bubbles up in Hobie’s chest, a futile attempt to alleviate the pressure on it, while he pulls you closer into his embrace. “Well, regardless, I’ll take yer word for it.”

If he was being honest, Hobie wasn’t one for animated movies. Sure, he thought they were fun, but he wasn’t as invested in them as you were. Not in the way you’d get immersed into each story, eyes trained on each scene– whether on some gigantic cat-rabbit monster, or a red-headed fish girl, or a little girl flying in the sky with a dragon. He’ll get the gist of those stories, but not in the same way as you.

He’ll see a monster cat-rabbit; you’ll see two sisters working through family strife in the countryside.

He’ll see a wolf-woman attacking a village; you’ll see nature at war with technology and mankind.

He’ll see a weird looking moving castle-thing; you’ll see war tearing through one’s humanity behind a love story.

You always saw the bigger picture in those movies you love, always blown away with the storytelling and catching the telltale hints of foreshadowing with a glimmer in your eye.

The irony of you oblivious to his deception is not lost on him.

His eyes drift back to the projected film on your wall, his nose scrunching up in confusion at the sight of the pig-faced man sitting in the middle of the theater while a uniformed man approaches him.

“Why’s he in there?” Hobie whispers against your temple, lips grazing against your skin. “I thought he was tryin’ t’ hide…”

You absently shush him, eyes locked in on the screen, fingers mindlessly toying with the fabric of his shirt. The blue light from the projection glints over your eyes, leaving you in a trance over every movement and word from the pig-man on your wall.

Hobie can’t help but let out an amused huff before glancing back at the film; you’ll explain it to him after the movie anyway.

He can’t help but find you cute like this.

It’s not like he doesn't understand what’s going on, he can pick up some things here and there to get the gist, but he likes the little light in your eyes when he asks. He likes when you gush about the things you like– the little animated movies that comforted you when you were a kid; the new free swatches of fabric you’d get from the old lady in the nearby crafts store; the small meal preps you’d make for yourself for lunch, ones that Hobie is still confused about you making despite not having a kitchen in your dorm room. Warmth pools in the pit of his stomach every time he sees that light, that little twinkle in your eyes every time you see something you like. 

And lately, that twinkle pops up every now and then every time you look at him: every time he asks to join you in your movie nights, every time he drags you to his personal hangout spots for your Friday date nights, every time he cracks a small joke or quip under his breath in your presence.

The thought of you losing that light in your eyes makes his stomach drop.

He glances back down at you being engrossed in the movie, but his brows furrow once his eyes land on yours. That light in your eye isn’t as bright as the other ones. Do you not like this one as much as the others? You usually like these kind of fantasy-esque kind of animated movies–

“Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather be a pig than a fascist.”

A short gasp rips through Hobie’s throat before he snaps his eyes back to the film, chills rolling down his spine and goosebumps pricking up on his skin. Languid movement brushes against his chest, his pulse in his neck quickening from your breath ghosting his cheek, before he turns his attention back. That dim twinkle from before now radiates in your eyes, brighter than any other time he’s seen it for the past three months.

“See?” you whisper to him with a smug lilt, your lips curling up in victory. “Told you he reminded me of you.”

Warmth floods the pit of his stomach tenfold as he stares into your eyes, ebbing through the rest of his body in waves until it crawls up the back of his neck. He’s never seen that smile on you before, one of you being so sure of yourself and of the moment, one that brightens your face amidst the dim lighting in your dorm.

You never looked more beautiful to him than in this moment.

Sparks suddenly crackle under his skin when plush lips brush against his cheekbone, freezing him still as you pull away with a satisfied smile, with the sweetest voice he’s ever heard from you.

“I love you.”

All sounds cut silent in his mind, with only a low ringing buzzing in his ears. The warmth under his skin turns to ice and chills him to the bone. All the lights surrounding the both of you suddenly retreat into the shadows, with only him under the spotlight in your scrutiny.

What did you just say to him?

The thorny noose that loosened its grasp on him earlier instantly reinforces around his neck in vengeance, squeezing and digging deeper around him, while bile and iron clings to the back of his throat. Blood pounds into his ears, the ringing rattling in his head louder, the soft piano and voice of the pig-man growing muffled. His jaw locks shut while his tongue sinks down like lead, the taste of ash mingling with the burning bile and iron once those same words latch onto it.

Can he even say that back to you? Does he even deserve to?

A sharp sting worms into Hobie’s chest as your smile starts to falter from his silence.

“...was that too soon?” He hates the quiet hesitation in your voice. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable–”

“No– no, tha’s not it,” he tries to reassure you, swallowing down the acrid lump down his raw throat as he sits you both up, “I was jus’... jus’ caught a l’il off guard, luv–”

“I thought it was a good moment, y’know?”

“No, yeah, I get it–”

“Like, yeah, it’s not some big romantic gesture, but it just felt right to say it–”

Your name washes over his tongue like warm honey once he calls for your attention, removing the taste of ash and iron from his taste buds. His callused hands cup your cheeks, the dry, scratchy skin grazing yours, the twinkle in your eyes wavering as you look back up to his own.

His heart twists at the waver; he doesn’t want you to lose that twinkle.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he rasps out, forcing a comforting smile on his pierced lips, “I didn’t mind. Like I said, I jus’ wasn’t ready for it…”

He’s not ready for it, those words echoing in his mind slamming into him harder than he anticipated. How could those three simple words complicate his situation even more than it needed to be?

The lump he’s been struggling to swallow down claws its way back up his throat the longer he stares at you, each second of you deflating and shrinking in front of him making each claw dig deeper until he tastes blood again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you have to say it back–”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

He pulls you back into his arms, his long fingers seeking forgiveness while running through your hair, his heart thumping under your ear like a sinner awaiting judgement.

“Jus’ ‘cuz ‘m not ready doesn’t mean I thought you were pressurin’ me,” Hobie attempts to reassure you again, his throat stinging and burning from his ruse catching back up to him. “It jus’ means ‘m not at that point yet…”

The sting in his heart worsens when you reluctantly nod back, the twinkle in your eye dimming again. He wants to take his words back, to ignore the ash creeping back up on his tongue with those three words clinging on its tip, but those words would be poison to him if he ever said that to you now.

“Okay, no worries,” you finally whisper back, the warmth of your body seeping back into his as you nestle yourself against him again. “Take your time, okay?”

Your words are a salvation he doesn’t deserve.

The thorny noose settles around his neck again, not tight enough to silence him, but enough for regret to take him in a chokehold. You settle back on his chest, your eyes not as engaged in the long-forgotten film anymore. His heart grows even heavier; he didn’t mean for your first time watching this movie to be forever marred with this.

Hobie’s eyes drift back to the projection, where the pigman in his scarlet airplane flies over an idyllic garden and passes by the beautiful sought-after lounge singer– the gradual awe and realization creeping up in the singer’s eyes, the brief flash of a memory of a younger her and the pigman flying together, the bittersweet resignation flickering on her face as the pigman flies away. He ponders what could’ve been for the two characters if the pigman decided to fly back down to the singer and settle down with her instead of keeping her waiting, leaving his self-isolating life behind him.

The noose bites into his skin again, the acrid burning strangling him and rendering him helpless as the flash of red takes over the projection.

He really is a pig.

—

SLAM!

A stocky hand plants itself onto the plastic picnic table, bills of twenties tucked right underneath, before it slithers up to the edge of the table. Hobie blankly stares at the money, bile singing the back of his throat and in his chest, before his eyes flick back up to a dissatisfied Flash Thompson.

“Here,” Flash grunts out with an eye roll. “Two hundred, unless you want me to count it for you.”

The thorny noose tightens around Hobie’s neck again as his eyes harden at the blonde, the bile in his throat seeping into the wounds. Disgust wells up in Hobie’s chest from the sight of the tainted money under the sunlight.

With a click of the tongue, Flash rolls his eyes again as he straightens up the bills and counts them off one by one, each number grating in Hobie’s eardrums until the last bill flutters back down in front of him.

“Again. Two hundred. Not like I was gonna try and scam you out of it.”

A twitch pulses in Hobie’s eye as Flash pulls his hand away, leaving the small stack of bills in front of him. The faded green of the dollars is a blight in his eyes, a lowly reminder of why he’s here in the first place.

“...y’know, this is usually the part where you actually grab the money,” Flash’s taunting voice worms its way in Hobie’s ears again. He fights off the urge to recoil as he crosses his arms against his chest and leans back against the backrest of the bench, his face pinching up into a scowl.

Confusion and annoyance flickers in Flash’s face the longer Hobie glares at him. “Okay, seriously. What the hell is up with you? We agreed on two hundred, right? Unless you remembered it wrong and thought I was gonna give you more–”

“Shut up.”

The bile in Hobie’s throat coats through his words in biting venom, instantly cutting the blonde off. His blood thrums under his skin in a simmer, his hands trembling while gripping on his biceps, the impulse to punch Flash in the jaw already slithering into the forefront of Hobie’s mind.

To Flash’s credit– and Hobie’s irritation– he only raises an eyebrow at the tall punk with a bemused frown before propping his arms on the table.

“Alright, what crawled up your asshole?”

Hobie’s jaw clenches, but he refrains from spewing the first insults hurling in his head. “...why did you make the bet?”

“...huh?”

Hobie’s nails bite into his skin as he grips onto his arms harder.

“The bet. Why?”

Flash stares back at Hobie with even more bewilderment– the audacity of this prick– before he shrugs it off.

“I was bored.”

“…what?”

Disbelief and disdain flares up in Hobie’s eyes from Flash’s nonchalant demeanor, all the while the latter picks at his fingernails with a slow yawn.

“You heard me, I was bored,” Flash casually doubles down before his cool blue eyes flick back to Hobie’s blazing russets. “There wasn’t really anything to it. Just wanted to blow off some extra cash—“

“Don’t fuck with me!—“

Hobie’s hands slam down on the table and pushes himself up from his seat, spooking some passerbyers crossing through the campus. He is fuming, fire erupting in his veins, his voice straining to a harsh hiss.

“Y’mean t’ tell me tha’ you started all this for shits and giggles?!”

“Whoa— easy there, tiger!” Flash holds his hands up with an amused scoff. “You got the money already, I don’t see why you’re getting pissy about it—“

“Is this some sick fucking joke to you?!” Hobie’s voice trembles while his hands grip onto the edges of the table until his knuckles turn white. “How the hell can you stand yourself betting on a person’s life with money—“

A loud snort interrupts Hobie’s tirade, which tries his patience even more, while Flash struggles to hold in his snickers.

“Is that what this is about? The nerd? Oh my god, I thought you were talking about something serious—“

Hobie storms around the table and grabs Flash up from his seat by the collar. “You piece of shit, what the hell do you have against—“

“Hey! Hey— I have nothing against her! She was just there at the right place at the right time for me.”

A shit-eating grin curls up on Flash’s lips, boiling Hobie’s blood more. “Plus, was there really any harm in what I did?” Flash scoffs as he stares into the ire in Hobie’s eyes. “I mean, all I did was send a guy over to a lonely nerd who definitely never got asked out by anyone before, and I helped some broke bastard out by giving him some money. I basically took care of two birds with one stone out of the kindness of my own heart.”

The thorny noose crushes Hobie’s windpipe as his hand trembles against Flash’s adam’s apple, “Besides, you were the one who took the deal, no questions asked. You could’ve backed out any time you wanted. Honestly, isn’t this really your fault—“

Red floods Hobie’s vision before a dull ache creeps up in his knuckles, and as he blinks away the hue from his vision, he stares down at a groaning Flash on the ground and his hand balled up into a scraped fist. A frigid gust licks at his wound, stinging the skin of his knuckles, while the twenty-dollar bills flutter away across the campus.

“Hobie!”

His ear perks up at the chime of his name, and all the fury in his face disappears as he turns his head to your direction. Time slows down around him the moment his eyes land on the black dress and oversized cardigan that he’s never seen you wear before, his heart stuttering from the endearing sight, but it soon drops to his stomach when panic and worry flashes on your face.

“Are you okay?!” You gasp out when you finally reach him, your hands already grabbing his injured one. “What happened? Oh my god, your hand—“

“Luv, ‘m fine,” Hobie’s voice trembles into a reassuring hush to you as he blocks your view of an injured blonde asshole. “Jus’ had to take care of sumthin’ here—“

“You fucking asshole—“

You flinch from the booming voice behind Hobie before he quickly turns around and hides you behind him. Flash stumbles up while clutching the middle of his face, small streams of crimson staining his pale fingers, while he glares at the towering punk.

“Is that really how you thank me, Brown?” Flash roars out through his hand. “By socking me in the damn nose?! You act like I forced you into taking the fucking bet!”

Hobie’s blood runs cold the moment those words leave Flash’s mouth, and he quickly glances over his shoulder to see the clear confusion on your face.

“…bet?”

Panic screams in Hobie’s mind before he turns to you and grips on your shoulders. “Luv, jus’ ignore him, okay?—“

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, asshole!” Flash stalks over to the punk and turns him back, blood dripping down his purpling nose while he prods Hobie’s chest with a bloodied finger. “I’m not the one who took up on the bet for the two hundred, pretending to be some Prince Charming for some fucking nerd—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

“HELL NO!” Flash screams back at Hobie’s face. “You don’t get to make me the asshole over here, you fucking hypocrite—“

“STOP!”

Both Hobie and Flash stumble back as you shove yourself between them and push them away from each other, drops of Flash’s blood splattering on the sleeve of your cardigan. The roaring hostility coursing through Hobie’s body dissipates as soon as his eyes land on you. He hates the way he can see the wheels turning in your head, hates the way the puzzles are slowly fitting together for you.

“…was I a bet?”

His heart runs cold at the slight crack in your voice, the wavering light in your eyes.

“L-luv, wait—“

“Was I a bet?”

The thorny noose stabs into Hobie’s neck again, silencing whatever poisoned words he desperately wants to spill out of his mouth. Heat sears the back of his eyes, threatening to well up with tears, as the dimming twinkle in your eyes slowly gets snuffed out.

“…so everything was a lie?” You continue to choke out, and Hobie prays for a hole to open up and swallow him into the earth. “Was that why last night—“

You avert your eyes from him, and Hobie’s body screams to pull you in his arms, but invisible shackles latch onto his ankles and wrists and chain him where he is. 

A scorning laugh rips through your throat, disbelief and heartbreak clouding the last of the light in your eyes as you stare up at him again, a small part of Hobie dying inside when he sees a different light glazing your eyes. One stray tear rolls down your cheek, but the rest refuse to follow– the small wall he quietly took apart suddenly skyrockets around you, with no way for him to tear it down again.

“…at least you don’t have to pretend you like me now, right?”

Shattered glass rings in Hobie’s ears as a sharp pain stabs through his heart, but before he could stop you, you flee from him, ripping the last of his heart in front of him.

“Luv, wait!—“

Hobie tries to run after you, but a large hand grabs hold of his arm, and he looks over his shoulder to see a hulking security guard staring him down.

“Alright, c’mon, you’re coming with us,” the guard orders the punk while another one starts to pull an indignant Flash out of the campus courtyard. Panic latches onto Hobie’s mind again from the thought of you being upset and alone, and he tries in vain to slip away before the guard wraps a burly arm around his waist, dragging him away in the opposite direction as he starts to scream your name.

[drownthehatch]

[nekovale]

I've had this in my wip folder for *checks calendar* two years lmao I'm only now catching up with s7 and I felt like I could as well just post it

[paintedcrows]

working on a little something based on that hysterical bit in the NYCC Panel where Stan calls Bill a cop 👨‍💼💼

[halotrope]

Can’t get this scene out of my head…like…the layers…ough…

[noballoonsinspace]

Beginner

Intermediate

Advanced

Self-taught one work-in-progress at a time so that there’s some beginner stuff I don’t know and advanced stuff that I do know and I will forever be making silly beginner mistakes in complex projects that I’ll probably never complete :)

[crnl-chicken-tots]

[nigelgraz]

I missed him😪💘

[littler0b1n]

I am so normal about them

[theonevoice]

Went to bed at 4AM last night and woke up this morning possessed by the demon of creativity - aka I have this image in my brain and if I don't let it out I will explode.

New wip I guess (as if I needed another)

[hyperfix-wip]

The Man Behind the Mask

Pairing: Prowler!Hobie Brown x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Author's Note: Happy belated birthday, @the-kr8tor 😭 Prowler Dad is finally here! Also, I included the babies Billie, Ramona and Kitt! I love them so much 🥹 I'd also like to thank @pinksugarscrub for beta reading and dealing with my yap sessions 🤣

Tags: Prowler!Hobie, Dad!Hobie, Older!Hobie, Fem!Reader, Older!Reader, Mom!Reader, Young!Aaron, Brown Family!AU, Fluff

The Prowler.

The Shadow of the Boroughs.

The Menace of the Elite.

The Prowler was considered the greatest thief of all time, striking fear in all the rich in New York as they clutched their bank accounts and invaluable antiquity. Whatever item they had– cash, jewelry, paintings, anything of value– he would steal from them, no questions asked. Even worse for them, no matter how much money they spend on security, no matter how much they pressure the police department to hunt down the criminal, the Prowler would always escape from their grasp.

Despite the public outcry from the police and the wealthy, to their dismay, the Prowler is a beloved vigilante to the rest of the Boroughs– dropping off bags of money to schools throughout the poorer neighborhoods, gifting paintings and food to old community centers, hooking up his own gadgets as a security system throughout the city and having it be better than the NYPD’s.

At least to a young Aaron Davis, the Prowler– despite being a criminal– was a damn hero of the city in his eyes. He was a whole lot better than those bullshit cops, who only pop up at the wrong damn time and harass you when there are literally other crimes out there. At least the Prowler actually gives back to the community.

If Aaron could, he would join the Prowler. Hell, he even has his own gear made up of tossed out electronic devices and some fabric he rummaged through the back of an old phone store (to the annoyance of his older brother), and he thought he could get that chance when the Prowler landed on top of a purse-snatcher, knocking the masked man out on the ground while an old lady hobbles over to grab her bag. The Prowler briefly glanced up at Aaron, who was ditching school at the time, through his screen mask before pushing himself up from the ground, towering over the lanky teen, and started to rush off to an alleyway.

With quick thinking, Aaron slid a small tracker in one of the Prowler’s pockets, putting his pickpocket skills to use, before the purple vigilante disappeared from his sight. Adrenaline flooded through the teen as Aaron pulled his phone out for the GPS app and ran after the masked man.

He actually saw the Prowler, he was not gonna let this opportunity pass by. He was finally going to meet the vigilante who the whole city has their eyes on with fear and respect.

At least, Aaron thought that at the time.

However at this moment, to Aaron’s dismay, the same purple-cladded punk vigilante he revered for so long is sitting in front of him in a community center, wincing from one of his twin daughters pulling at his dreads with ribbons in her little hands while the other one paints his nails (and the rest of his fingers) with glittery pink paint.

“Daddy! Stop moving!” one of the girls whines as she struggles to tie half of his locs with a long blue ribbon, her small afro-puffs bobbing back and forth. “The ribbon keeps getting loose…”

A small huff of laughter leaves the older man’s lips before he glances over his shoulder at the upset hairdresser, “Billie, ’m staying as still as I can–”

“Daddy…” the other girl quietly interrupts with a sad pout jutting from her lips, holding up his sparkly fingers with her own paint-covered hands, “can I start over? I made it look ugly…”

The father’s eyes soften as he gazes down at his other daughter before he lets out a quick scoff. “Oh, come now, Mona! M’ nails look proper good, innit?”

Billie quickly pops her head over her father’s shoulder with a curious glint in her eyes before letting out a loud gasp. “Mon-mon! Where’d you find the glitter?! Can you paint mine too?”

…what the hell is going on?

Aaron continues to stare at the baffling– and albeit heartwarming– scene in front of him, with any cool image of the Prowler permanently marred by pink glitter and sugary sweet praises from the older man.

This soft ass unc is the Prowler?

The Prowler is supposed to be a terrifying, snarky badass who wreaked havoc throughout New York– not some girl-dad getting bullied into getting his nails done and his hair tied up in ponytails by some preschoolers.

Before the young teen could pull his eyes away from the saccharine sight and drag himself out the metal doors, two small chubby arms wrap around his calf, and Aaron nearly jumps out of his scuffed up knock-off sneakers before looking down. A pair of wide chocolate-brown eyes peer up at him through a curtain of black coils before a happy giggle vibrates through the little baby boy.

“Kitt!”

Aaron instantly raises his hands up in the air with panic flooding his eyes, looking up to see you running through the metal double doors with relief as you pick up the cooing baby. “Kitt, you can’t just wander away from Mama…”

Your eyes flick up to the sweating, nervous boy in front of you, but you merely smile as you gently bounce your son in your arms. “Sorry about that, my son tends to latch onto legs.”

Aaron quickly shakes his head while glancing over his shoulder, trying not to lose sight of the Prowler without looking too suspicious. “Nah, y’all good,” he internally winces from the slight crack in his voice. “Really not a big deal–”

“MUMMY!”

Aaron flinches from the sudden giggly squeals behind him before the same two little girls run up to you and wrap their arms around your waist.

“There’s my two girls!” you laugh as you carefully crouch down to your knees, keeping the squirming Kitt in your arms while pressing a kiss against a chubby cheek on each twin. “Did you two have fun with Daddy while I picked up your brother?”

As soon as the words ‘Daddy’ leaves your lips, Aaron’s body freezes when a tall shadow looms over him, and he slowly looks over his shoulder to meet silver-pierced skin and nearly-black eyes staring him down.

Jesus Christ, when did he get here?!

“Mummy, look!” The afro-puff girl– Billie, Aaron thinks?– giggles as she points at her father’s lopsided pigtails. “Daddy looks so pretty!”

“Mac, don’t point, okay?” you gently chide the little girl before wrapping your free arm around her. “It’s not nice, remember?”

You then glance up at the towering punk, pressing your lips together with a mirthful glint in your eyes while holding in your laughter, before brushing your lips against Billie’s temple to hide your teasing smirk. “But yes, you made Daddy really pretty.”

The older man rolls his eyes before a small smirk curls up on his lips, draping his arm around the tense teen’s shoulders and leaning against him.

“C’mon now, lovie,” the older man’s deep British voice rumbles through Aaron’s bones, sending a chill down his spine. “Y’know I always look fit in any style.”

Despite the older man’s nonchalant demeanor, his glittery fingers on Aaron’s shoulder subtly dig into it until the poor boy winces from the pain. 

“Yes, yes, I know,” you brush the older man off with a snicker, oblivious to Aaron trembling under the man’s grip, before gingerly standing up and approaching him. “You look handsome in every way, Hobie.”

With a teasing smirk you push yourself up from your toes and brush your lips against his in a chaste kiss, earning a small smile from the older man in return.

“Eww–”

The young twins quickly break the two of you apart, each pushing against you and Hobie away with scrunched up faces of disgust.

“Mummy, no kissing Daddy!” Billie whines as she wraps her arms around your waist. “You always make gross kissy noises with Daddy!”

Ramona buries her face into Hobie’s stomach with a muffled whine, squeezing her arms around his waist, before she turns her head to stare up at a flustered Aaron.

As cute as the kid is, Aaron can’t help but feel a slight chill down his spine from her scrutiny. It’s like she’s staring into his soul with those big brown voids.

“...are you Mummy and Daddy’s friend?” Ramona shyly asks while nuzzling her chubby cheek against Hobie’s stomach.

“Uh…”

Before Aaron can think of an excuse to get out of the situation, a small chubby hand grips and tugs on his hoodie, and his eyes dart to a gummy smile and a puff of curls.

“Kitt!” Your face blanches while he leans further in and reaches out for Aaron’s ear. “Wait, no– you can’t just–”

A shrill giggle bubbles up from the baby’s chest while you try to pull him away from Aaron, who winces from the ringing in his ear, but Kitt’s grip on the hoodie tightens and tugs the off-guard teen forward before letting go. Aaron attempts to speak over the rambunctious family again, but another sudden force rushes into his stomach and knocks the breath out of his lungs. He glances back down when another pair of arms wraps around his stomach, only to meet another pair of bright brown eyes and fluffy afro puffs.

“My name is Billie Jean Brown!” Billie announces herself with a wide grin. “I am five years old, ‘n m’ fav’rite sweets are orange choc’lates!”

The bubbly girl then holds her hand out to her sister, who shyly lets go of her father and grabs Billie’s hand before looking up at Aaron with owlish eyes. 

“C’mon, Mon-mon,” Billie whispers loudly to her twin, “like Mummy and Daddy taught us.”

A slight tinge of pink creeps up on the other girl’s puffed up cheeks, and she glances down to her shiny black Mary-Janes before bashfully introducing herself. “M-my name is Ramona Diane Brown. I am f-five years old, ‘n my favorite sweets are jelly bellies…”

Oh. Oh no, that’s not fair. That’s too cute.

Aaron stares at the twins and baby with a pang of cute aggression in his chest, but he mentally stomps it down as he looks away and clears his throat.

“Y-yeah, hi…”

A strong arm slowly wraps around Aaron’s neck, sending another chill down his spine. He glances to the side, his eyes meeting the nonchalant profile of the twin’s father. Warm fondness pools in his dark eyes as he gazes down at his daughters, with Billie proudly grinning and patting a blushing Ramona’s head.

It should be a heartwarming sight to Aaron, it really should, but a looming heaviness sinks down on his shoulders as the older man’s arm gradually constricts around his neck, reminding Aaron of that huge snake in biology class when it wraps itself around its prey.

His heart drops from that brief epiphany, especially when the elder man’s eyes flick over to him in a side glance.

“Now, c’mon, li’l man,” Hobie’s low voice chills Aaron’s blood more, “ ’s rude not to introduce ya’self. ‘Specially if two little ladies greeted ya so nicely.”

He’s toying with Aaron, he has to be. Even with Hobie’s carefree attitude around his family, Aaron can’t help but imagine the same man snapping his neck with his arm alone if he makes a wrong move.

Hobie Brown is a damn snake, and Aaron is being held hostage in his grasp.

“Uh…Aaron,” his voice manages to not waver in front of the kids, “Aaron Davis…”

A soft chuckle rings in the side of Aaron’s ear, a saving grace for him as the arm around his neck lightens up.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Aaron,” you smile at him as you introduce yourself while Kitt starts to doze off on your shoulder. “I know it seems a bit strange, but would you like to come to our house for lunch? I actually made a lot more food than I thought, and I don’t think our family could finish all of it.”

Aaron’s eyes widen with confusion and wariness despite your earnest request. What the hell will happen to him if he goes to their house?

A loud gasp breaks through brief silence before Billie eagerly jumps in front of Aaron, with Ramona stares up at him with hope in her eyes. “Please come home with us! Please, please, please, please, please! I can show you the stuffies that Daddy made for me and Mon-mon!”

That same low chuckle reverberates through Aaron’s bones again, rattling him while Hobie pulls him closer. “Don’ worry, m’ wife jus’ has a t’ing wit’ pickin’ up strays. She sees a pitiful, skinny t’ing, ‘n she’ll wanna stuff ‘em up wit’ food ‘til they pop.”

You lightly smack Hobie in the chest with a deadpan, your cheeks growing slightly warm and pink. “Hey, none of that.”

Aaron’s face pinches up at the older man’s offhand comments, slightly offended at the being called ‘pitiful’ and ‘skinny”.

He’s not skinny. He’ll get some muscle, damn it.

Before he could retort back, however, a loud gurgle cries from Aaron’s stomach, and the family just stares at him while his face erupts in heat. A joyful giggle bubbles up from Billie before she grabs your hand and tugs both you and the bewildered Ramona out through the double doors.

“Mummy! His tummy’s angry!” Billie shouts out with a toothy grin, “Mummy’s gonna stuff him ‘til he pops!”

A small guffaw slips through your lips while you gently brace Kitt in your arm, “Billie, slow down! We’re only across the street!”

“W-wait!” Aaron calls out, too overwhelmed and baffled with the sudden events, “I didn’t say I was gonna–”

Something presses against Aaron’s windpipe again, quickly cutting off most of his air, and Aaron turns his eyes back to the now-solemn Hobie.

“Now, ya wouldn’ t’ink ‘bout disappointin’ m’ girls, would ya?” His voice drops to a lower octave, sending a frigid chill through Aaron’s blood. “ ‘S been a while since m’ lovie had a guest come over to eat her cookin’.”

The soft warmth that once resided in Hobie’s eyes sharpens into a darker cold stare, freezing the poor boy in place, before Hobie casually pulls something out of his pocket. A small plastic tab is tucked between his thumb and index finger, and Aaron’s grumbling stomach suddenly drops in silence.

Oh shit, he found the tracker.

“Now, li’l man, let’s have a long chat, shall we?”

[starleska]

little preview of my wip Mr. Ring-A-Ding | Lux Imperator x Reader fic, tentatively titled Lightshot! 👀💖

[strawberijasper]

so... sapphic cheerleader!deku x jock!bakugou right?

I want to actually properly finish this eventually but my wrist has been acting up so it might be a minute until I can, so y'all get a sketch for now.

[gum-iie]

everytime i think of his backstory i shriek and then collapse into 7 million pieces

[yuywonzzz]

oh lord the hyperfixation is real. they're like my number one married couple after odypen. THEY ARE MY PARENTS I'VE WATCHED THEM (ESPECIALLY LIZZIE) SINCE I WAS A KID AND NOW IM A SOON TO BE COLLEGE STUDENT. 😭

would you believe that i'm trying to make a would you fall in love with me again animatic of jizzie?

[omniscientpapaya]

epic rap battles of history trazyn the incontinent vs methhead'ran the deceiver (feat. onii-chan the diviner)