#i Hope you like atsv

[hecateisalesbian]

I’m still alive :/

yeah so uh @bloodied-dagger has a few things wrong about this story (my fault) so I’m gonna clear some stuff up.

After Dagger’s trip to Cali I noticed he was kinda online a little/lot less and I was wondering what was up, but I didn’t wanna so directly upfront say it, so I did send an anon ask saying “why are you so busy?” I should’ve worded it better because it does sound rude but I didn’t mean it like that. So anyway I sent him that and he responded and he was upset and I felt HELLA guilty for that for one, and I kinda forgot he had a 4th of July party that night because I have really crappy memory.

So I saw I was in the tags and I felt really bad but I didn’t want him to be mad at me because im really freaking bad with emotions and people being mad and whatever I have trauma and stuff not the point. I ended up sending another ask saying smth like “why’d u drag me into the tags” (as to sorta lighten the mood) “also I’m sure anon was just asking about cali.” So anyways he responded privately except by that time I was already asleep cuz I was tired from fireworks and night swimming.

So anyways I wake up at like 5 in the morning and read the response and I’m still really groggy so this sends a panic through me when I see he’s really mad and 100% called me out on my bullcrap (deserved) and in classic me fashion I get super freaked and have a panic attack and I deleted the reply cuz If I didn’t I would’ve read it over and over again and yeah. And I tend to do this bad overthinking thing where I assume one bad thing happens between me a friend and they hate me forever and never wanna talk to me again. So I go to my followers/mutuals list and I’m scrolling and I don’t see dagger on there so I’m like “oh crap he hates me he doesn’t even wanna be mutuals anymore”. Yeah. So I unfollowed him cuz I cut myself off from people, especially when they don’t wanna be friends anymore.

The rest of the day I stay away from tumblr and don’t check it until a few hours ago when I decided I’d kinda update my blog on how I wouldn’t be posting and vented a little by going “crap crap crap” etc.

Little context behind this, I actually was planning to update my blog because next week I have this super big thing which will most likely take up most of my day during the week for the next three weeks. But since I thought everyone would hate me I had to be dramatic and make it seem like I was leaving forever. Anyways I come back and I see dagger tagged me and whatever. And hes feeling bad too Ig and so that made me feel even more guilty (and he even remembered I love atsv) so I was like “alright I need to make a post about this.”

And now here we are. So. Yeah. I’m sorry if you hate me now Dagger. I followed you again but if you don’t want me to I understand. I just thought I’d put my input too. I feel really bad and I didn’t know how upset those asks would make you. And I’m sorry to all my mutuals for worrying them. I really hope you don’t see me as a bad person but I understand if you do. Yeah. I’m sorry.

[nsee-dious]

I got sooo overboard like I was supposed to only draw for 30 min and then I don’t know what happened

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

'Normalize morally grey and questionable woman characters!'

Please, you people couldn't handle Gwen Stacy making questionable life choices after being disowned in the most difficult stage of her life.

Let's normalize teenage girls making mistakes hows about that huh???

[chloesimaginationthings]

Do you guys remember this obscure 00s cartoon called “Spider Beats”??

[themisterhip]

The sillys 🧛😝✨

[aler-ii]

Hobie Hair by Alerii

Commissioned by @eatasslikegrass (model is also theirs)

My first hair commission!! I was really honoured to be asked to create Hobie's hair from ATSV!! This is just my interpretation of Hobie's Wicks, using mostly concept art but also official appearances in the movie. Not consistent with my sources to make hobie proud ofc.

Base Game Compatible

All Frames, All LODS

Not hat compatible

24 EA Colours | 3 Strand Swatches

PSD for recolouring included in dl

Hair: 14k polys, Strands: 600 polys (located in HATS)

the hair is fine in game but tall in CAS due to the length (sorry!!)

Respect my TOU

Consider donating to my Ko-Fi!

download (sfs, free)

---

in-depth game preview under the cut!! (unedited)

[sirbird]

Some good sleep and morning dew :)

[cyberkitty1]

pt 2/2 of the crybaby reader x earth42 Miles Morales

MAJOR MAJOR spoilers!! read with caution.

i said tomorrow night but I worked my butt off to get it done today!!

Aaron makes his way to Miles and room not even bothering to knock, I mean why would he? He just watched his nephew make his own girlfriend who would do anything for him cry. He was beyond furious.

“So now we are just going around making people cry?” Miles smirks at him “man I am literally the prowler? all i make people do is cry and beg for their life” he says almost laughing.

Aaron sighs pinching the bridge of his nose.” you are not supposed to let your job interfere with your normal life, you know that. Now you’re chasing your girl, the girl your supposed to love away? are you serious?”

Miles looks at him annoyed “ why wouls you care all she ever does is cry, shes happy she cries, shes mad she cries, shes sad she cries, man even when shes bored she cries. its annoying” he says holding his face in his hands.

Aaron walks to the bed and sits next to him. He’s never been put in this situation so he doesn’t know what to say. “ you’re dad was a lot better doing this than i ever was.” Miles visibly stiffens, this was the first time he’s brought up his dad since his funeral.

“ Miles I know you have been through a lot, more then i ever will but that doesn’t give you a reason to act that way towards her, she only wants whats best for you and she loves you with everything shes got. I would kill for a person like that to be in my life. I know you reacted like this because you feel you don’t have anyone to talk to but i’m always here man you know this.”

He wrapped an arm around his shoulder.” So don’t be taken your anger out on your girl she just loves you ok?” Miles sighs realizing, he was way to harsh in you you shouldn’t have been ignoring you and now he feels like a fool.

“ Yea, ill talk to her tomorrow” Aaron smiles, “ good I don’t need the only person who can get you to open up gone, now do i?” he says laughing a bit.

* Next Morning *

You didnt get a wink of sleep that night you where thinking about all the things you could have done to upset him that much. You werent mad just confused, confused as to why he would react that way. Of course you will still love him but this still hurt.

You were lost in thought when you realize someone texted you, it was Miles? You wasted no time to open it.

miles. can you come over later today?

you. yea

miles. dress comfortable

you were nervous, was he breaking up with you? You had no idea what to expect with how you guys left everything yesterday there was many directions this could go.

Hours later ( im lazy )

You got ready and made your way over to his place. Knocking on the door he answered “hola cariño ven conmigo” he helped you in with a warm smile taking your hand. Shutting the door behind you he led you into his bedroom sitting you down on his bed. He stood looking at you kind of nervous? he started:

“Voy a decir esto en español para que todo salga bien. Te amo mucho y siento mucho haberte tratado de una manera que nunca te mereces. Lamento haberte hecho llorar y haberte hecho sentir que hiciste algo mal. Todo lo que haces es amarme y tratarme bien, pero yo te traté como si no me importara. Y por eso lo siento mucho y espero que lo encuentres en tu corazón para perdonarme.”

(I'm going to say this in Spanish so that everything goes well. I love you very much and I am so sorry that I treated you in a way that you never deserve. I'm sorry I made you cry and made you feel like you did something wrong. All you do is love me and treat me right, but I treated you like I didn't care. And for that I am very sorry and I hope that you find it in your heart to forgive me.)

You waited and listened to him through and through and when he was done you spoke. “ Miles I will forever love you, you know that. I know that you are going through something but why didn’t you tell me? why don’t you talk to me? why wont you let me in?” you said holding his hands.

“No quería que pensaras menos en mí, que me consideraras débil.” You look at him sympathetically “ Miles I would never, never ever think of you as weak ok? Whenever you need me I will be there with you, I love you miles so much.” and with that, you were crying.

(“I didn't want you to think less of me, to consider me weak.”)

“mi princesa por favor no llores odio cuando lloras” he said wiping your tears away “ I know and i’m sorry that i’m always crying about everything i know it annoys you” you say sniffling. He feeling you pulling at his heart strings, feeling the worse he has felt since his father’s passing.

("My princess please don't cry I hate when you cry"’)

“ahora me tienes a punto de llorar mami, te quiero mucho y me arrepiento de haberte dicho que te encontré una llorona. Nunca debí haberte dicho eso, eres mi todo, ¿lo sabías? Debería disculparme contigo, lamento haberte tratado de esa manera, ¿me perdonarías?” He said with tears in his eyes.

(“Now you have me about to cry mommy, I love you very much and I regret having told you that I found you a crybaby. I never should have told you that, you are my everything, you know that? I should apologize to you, I'm sorry I treated you that way, would you forgive me?")

You held his face looking into his eyes with so much adoration. “ Miles I will forever love you, I forgive you, I will forgive you ten times over.” You said resting your head on his. After a few minutes he wipes his tears saying “ I forgot I wanted you to watch a movie with me if you forgave me.” You smile at him giving him a kiss.

“ Thank you Miles,i appreciate it all.” he sighs “ Ma, stop saying stuff like that I need to be saying sorry to you” he says looking you in your eyes.

And with that he sits on his bed back against the headboard with you tucked into his side, eating snacks and watching your favorite movies.

( this or this )

He suddenly turns to you and says “te amo mas que la cantidad de estrellas en el cielo” he says looking into your eyes. You turn to him resting your hand ok his face, hearing your voice that sounds like honey.

("I love you more than the number of stars in the sky")

“yo tambien te amo mi principe”

( "I love you too my prince")

Part 3 of the earth 42 Miles spoiling you will be done as soon as I can 🙏🏾

A/n: overlook the fact that i spelt honey as hunny 😔 ( its changed now)

[spoopdeedoop]

shitty quality spidersona doodles i did to flesh them out a lil more since he got a pretty positive reaction!!!

they’re straying more into oc territory than sona and honestly i think thats chill

[shokuto]

You ever think about the extent of Gwen’s feelings for Miles and just

[hobies-princealbert]

"you worry too much cariño" | boxer! miles 42 x reader

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

◇ you were with miles from the start. you saw his love for boxing from the first day yall met. you remember how he would rave about rocky and how his room was littered with cut out pictures of sugar ray, mayweather, muhammad and all the greats.

◇ you remember how he begged his uncle for years to become his trainer. how upset he got when he couldn't perfect his right hook. how sore his muscles got after an eight hour training day. how happy he was when he won his first match that he ran out the ring before the ref announced his victory, and grappled you into a bear hug. you both shed a couple of tears that night.

◇ you were his no.1 cheerleader. always by the ring with mrs. morales and uncle aaron cheering miles on. even if you don't know jackshit about boxing, one thing was certain miles was good. so good that by the time he was 18, he had been invited to compete in that national tournaments.

◇ but no matter how good he was, he would still get nervous. especially if the event drew in a big crowd. you were always there to give him a pep talk or smack the sense back into him, and tell him to get back in there and kick some ass.

"si señorita" he gave you quick kiss (and a pat on the ass for good luck ofc), and headed back into the arena.

◇ he loves when you practically nurse him back to health. whether he got a busted lip or a bruised cheek. best believe after every match, he would make his way back stage where he knew you would be waiting on him with a first aid kit handy.

"miles, you need to be more careful. look at you. your lips, god and your cheek, it's do swollen. don't gimme that look i'm serious look what that asshole did to you"

"cálmate mami, the guy's suppose to beat me up. es parte del trabajo bebe" he took the hand that you had resting on his shoulder and kissed the palm to further his assurance.

"hey if you don't want me to nag you, you can always go to med staff. you know the people who's job it is to do this," you pressed an alcohol pad on his lips which made him hiss a bit.

"you worry too much cariño. plus how am i suppose to get mi besos to me feel better huh?"

◇ miles is more than grateful for all the support you give him, so best believe he's gonna make sure your well taken care of. it's the least he could do for you after so many years of being his nurse, cheerleader and emotional support coach.

◇ the money he's makes from tournaments and sponsorships, he can surely afford to give you anything your heart desires. "just say the word and it's yours mi corazon". plushies, shoes, jewelleries, clothes, nice vacations and dinners. borderline spoiling you rotten.

◇ and if your not one for extravagant things, he'll make sure that you never have to struggle to afford basic necessities. definitely a "don't worry i'll cover most of the bills for you baby" typa man (aaah a girl can dream)

◇ shouts you out in interviews. whether they ask about his love life or his biggest inspiration, he always makes sure that everyone knows he's had a great girl by his side every step of the way, and he hopes to keep it that way for as long as your down.

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎◇▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

@fezcossidepiece (*≧ω≦) enjoyyyy!!!

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Found a really nice photo of Hobie but the only way my Autistic brain could present this information and image was by creating this first so here you go

[chloesimaginationthings]

Jonathan Joestar, also known as “Phantom Spider”

[themisterhip]

ATSV CHARACTERS x MY STYLE!!♥️

[plush-rabbit]

The Spot Headcanons

Request: I have no idea if you take requests or anything but like ... spot with an s/o who chews on him. Nothing nsfw or suggestive or anything. I think they'd just wanna chew on him like . Some kind of stick. (Btw i 💞💞💞 ur writing so BADDDDD)

A/N: I did a quick glance and I thought you were calling my writing bad and im like, then why are you hereಥ_ಥ (there’s a quick mention about sex, but its not like graphic)

-

In all his time that he’s known you, he’s always known that you had some oral fixation. There were times that you tried to hide it from Johnathan, but it was never successful. You’d chew on popsicle sticks until they were splintered and frayed, you bite on toothpicks until you’d spit out the thin lines of wood, and only once you grew comfortable around him, you’d bite on your knuckles. If he were to be honest, he was worried you’d break your skin, so he started to carry bandages in his pocket.

However, you never broke skin. You’d chew lightly, your teeth marks dented into your skin, over your knuckles and on the webbed part of your hand, chewed on the side of your finger. Further into the relationship, you start to chew without trying to hide it from him. He’d watch as you bite on a popsicle stick, bitten between your molars and grinded until it pared in the middle, and you’d hold his hand. You’d massage it, your jaw tight as you press into his palm and squeeze onto his fingers. With wood acting as a poor replacement for flesh, you’d satisfy your desire by holding his hand.

Splinters are on your tongue and drool lays a pool into your mouth as you focus on his hands and wrists, running the pad of your index finger over his veins, pinching over the flesh of his knuckles and the meaty part of his palm. It’s obvious to anyone watching that you want to bite him, but are too afraid to ask. He has his own quirks that you’ve satisfied without complaint, and he’s sure that he’s made it clear that you can ask him anything, and yet, you don’t. Your tongue is splintered, and his hand is massaged, and he lays on your chest. A part of him wonders if his flesh is not to your desire, if his fingers are too calloused for your liking. He can only hold his breath when you kiss his palm. Your breath is warm, and your lips are soft, you hold him gently, running your lips from the center, up towards a finger, and he hopes that you bite him, that you mark him and dent his skin with your canines.

Of course, he has tried to get you sensory toys due to not wanting you to get splinters on your tongue, they never worked the same. The toys would work for a while, and it was apparent that you tried to enjoy them, grinding your teeth into them, and trying to tear it apart, but he could tell that you’d only grow frustrated. As you would chew and chew,  by the end of it, spit had coated the toy and dripped onto your hand. It wasn’t the most sanitary, especially when you made it a point to try to tear apart the toy, and it would lay wrapped clean in a napkin until the next use. It was fairly common that you would end up losing them, and by the time you found them, no amount of soap and water had deemed the toys clean. 

The only time that you’d actually bruise his skin is when the two of you are intimate. You’d bite his shoulder, sink your teeth in and pull him closer when he hisses at the contact. He had no idea someone could bite so gentle and harsh at the same time. You lap at the wound, kissing it, pressing your lips softly as if to ease the sting. And again, you bite, scratching at his back, knitting your hands into his hair, and breathing heavily. When he stares at himself in the mirror, he lets his hands linger when your teeth have tattooed themselves. His fingertips ghost over the inflamed skin, and he swears that he can feel the dentations, and the skin burns, and he can’t stop tracing where you’ve kissed him.

If you won’t bite him unless there’s intimacy involved, then he’ll make it known that it’s okay to chew on him. He’d cover your mouth with his hand, his index over your mouth, and the rest of his hand cradling your chin. He’d feel your heated breaths pant over his index, and he’d stare into your eyes, the void of the black hole that is him staring into your shining eyes reflecting his image. Neither of you dare to break eye contact for a moment- he wants to see if you’d actually bite him. You’re the one to break eye contact, your eyes darting down to his finger, and back to him and he nods, unable to breathe as he can feel the skin of your teeth drag over the side of his finger and feel the thin of it bite down. His breath catches in his throat, and his spots widen and contract as the feeling of your teeth squeezing down.

You smile with your teeth bared, and he realizes just how much he wants you to bite him. He wants you to etch yourself onto his skin, to know that you find him worthy of being torn and mawed by you. You comment on the different texture that he has compared to you. How he feels different, and when insecurity makes him anxious, you ask if it’s really okay for you to bite him. And when he tells you yes, you hold onto his arm, your breath soft and fanning over him as you bite and bite, pressing a kiss over each mark.

If he’s not in close proximity towards you- which is rare- he will use a spot to put his hand through, letting you bite onto him. It’s almost frightening how addicted he became to you biting him, how he likes the feeling of your maw threatening to tear and rip his flesh. In the soft kisses that follow, where you flutter your lips over his hand and arm, and over his neck and shoulder, you tell him thank you, and your hands have gone untouched, splinters no longer poke your tongue.

In return for letting you bite him, he likes to rest his head on your chest and feel you scratch his back. He’ll always tell you that there’s no need to repay him- he enjoys your biting habits as much as you do- but he can’t complain when he’s allowed to just rest on you. He’ll put his full weight on you, and stretch over you, humming when your nails pull down on his back, and nearly asleep by the time your hand has cramped. He’ll nuzzle further into your chest when you scratch at the top of his head, letting out a noise of content.

 What will and his spots and the chewing that you allow, you’ve started to try different nicknames. Johnathan and any variations of it were always welcomed and when you called him Spot, you always said it so lovingly that it never struck the kind of intimidation that he was going for. At one point, you tried calling him “Swiss”- “like swiss cheese, ‘cause you’re so holey and chewy,” you joked. He still doesn't know how he feels about the nickname, but the more you called him that despite the obvious grumbling, the more he became almost fond of it. He isn’t sure how much he likes being compared to a piece of food, but you always smile at the name, and he can’t ruin your smile. 

[keys-hellscape-1020]

Yeet.

A/N: this is just pure word vomit. I’m so sorry. The title is SO bad but I was giggling so hard when I wrote it. Also this is literally so fucking self-indulgent.

Summary: Spider-People have a sixth sense. This is common knowledge to anyone who intimately knows one. What you didn’t know however was that it can occasionally misinterpret intentions, leading to disastrous results.

Hobie Brown x gn!Reader

Contents: No use of Y/N, anxiety mentions, reader gets full on thrown through a window, reader dissociates (symptoms of dissociation are described in depth), reader gets injured, angst, hurt/comfort

————

It was mid-afternoon, the sun starting to lower towards the sky-line as you hauled your bags back from the grocery store. It wasn’t a long walk, not by any means, by the bags were heavy with ingredients for dinner and the sun was at the perfect angle to shine in your eye.

As you dragged yourself through the lobby of your apartment you could feel your heart flutter at the gentle vibration of your phone in your pocket. Hobie must be telling you that he entered through the window. How you longed to see him, today had been impossibly long and he had a subtle way of making everything better.

As you shuffled your way into the elevator, smacking the button awkwardly with your elbow, you impatiently watched as you rose through the levels of your apartment building.

It felt like a century. But eventually you were met with the sweet ding of the elevator reaching the correct floor. You dragged yourself one last time out of the elevator and down the hall, however instead of the sound of sweet guitar cords you were met with silence.

You anxiously creep down the hallway. When Hobie comes over he always plays his guitar loud enough for the whole floor to hear. As annoying as it was to your neighbors you couldn’t find it in you to ask him to stop, the sweet melody melting the stress right off your bones.

You somehow manage to mangle your key out of your pocket without putting anything down, and as soon as you’re inside you’re dropping your groceries without a care in the world and pulling out your phone.

As you unlock it your worst fear is confirmed, it was Hobie texting you alright. Him not playing his guitar almost certainly meant something was horribly wrong. To make matters worst Hobie had said he had a “surprise” for you. That made the anxiety in your stomach twist even harder, the idea of one of Hobie’s many enemies capturing him, or using you to get to him sparking to life in your mind.

You leave the door to your apartment open a crack, just incase you need to run, and creep down the hallway. The door to your bedroom is open just a crack, and light is spilling out of your room, causing you to hold your breath as you creep closer.

You perch on your toes, hoping to decrease the chance of someone hearing you as you near the door, hands posed at your side, ready to fight for your life or run as fast as your legs could carry you at a moments notice.

You lean on the door frame and push the door open another few inches using the side of your foot, holding your breath as the hinges let out a loud squeak.

When you don’t hear any immediate threats coming from inside the room you carefully shift your weight forward, gripping the door frame like it would keep you from harm.

You feel your heart leap with relief as you see not one of Hobie’s enemies, but Hobie himself. He’s sitting in your desk chair, facing the closed window. He has his guitar in his hands, but that is not what stands out to you. Instead what stands out is the pair of headphones on his head, forcing his wicks out of the way in a messy way that shows he has not taken much care when placing them on his head in the first place.

You scrunch your nose in delight at the comical sight and decide that some teasing is in order, after the near heart attack he gave you.

You creep forward, your movements reminding you of a cat as a Cheshire grin grows on your face. You still completely when you’re in pouncing distance and you see Hobie’s finger still on his guitar strings. A small cue, but one that indicated you’re plan would be foiled if you didn’t attack right… Now!

You pounce forward, you barely feel your nails scrap the thread of Hobie’s shirt before a firm force is pressing on your stomach, pushing you up and over yourself.

You can barely breath, a second and an eternity pass as you crash through the air.

You don’t think you’ve ever hit anything as hard as you just did.

The top of your head and one of your shoulders feel the crunch of the impact first, but it does nothing to slow your movements as your thighs crumple downwards you, and then past you still.

It doesn’t take you long to realize that you’re falling.

Not that you had a long time to realize.

You didn’t realize that you had the instinct to face the ground. Was that something that was impeded in every human? Or were you simply privy to this trait as you saw your boyfriend leap through the air on a near daily basis?

Whatever the cause, your descent is stopped by the feeling of something pulling on your back. It reminds you of how a bully would pull on your backpack in middle school, only if the bully was a double-decker bus instead of a 12 year old.

Your internal debate on the nature of 12-year-old assholes is stopped as you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in through the cracked frame of a window.

You didn’t remember being pulled in the wrong way through the air. Traveling in reverse. But it would be impossible to forget Hobie’s face staring at you with as much concern as you’ve ever seen on it, eyes wide and almost glassy.

You can feel the tightness of his grip on your shoulders, and you’re sure his fingerprints will be imprinted in your skin. You can see his mouth moving quickly but you can’t hear his voice.

You look vaguely at the busted window frame, the wood is cracked and splintering in nearly a hundred places. You fear your landlords reaction when he sees that. How are you going to explain it?

You feel Hobie gently brushing your forehead with his thumb, pulling you from your thoughts. You look down and see small specks of glass, almost like glitter, dusting your lap. You raise a hand to your head and it comes back a deep vermilion, you swear it sparks the same as that damned glitter.

You feel Hobie’s hand on your cheek, turning your eyes towards him.

“You with me?” Hobie’s eyes are large and concerned, troubled brows peering at you.

You can barely find the strength to make eye contact, mind still far off, falling through the atmosphere, clouds catching in your throat.

You feel Hobie’s firm thumb on your cheek, consistent pressure pulling your mind back down to earth.

“Hey now. Focus on me.”

You blink a few times, and slowly feel your bones becoming solid once more. You can hear the traffic out the window, Hobie’s breathing, feel the warmth of blood on your head. You find your chest naturally matching the rhythm of Hobie’s as he breathes deeply, prompting you to copy him.

You go to reach up to your head once more, intent of seeing how bad your injury is, but Hobie grabs your wrist and pulls your hand back down.

He stares at you for an intense moment before he scoops you up bridal style, being so incredibly gentle as he stands.

“Let’s get you cleaned up Luv.” He sounds more quite and subdued then you have ever heard him. He walks oh so gently, slow and smooth so as not to bump or jostle you.

He sits you down on the counter of the bathroom gently, and pulls a first-aid kit out from under the sink. Typically it is you patching him up after patrol, looks like the tables have turned this time.

He works in utter silence. His first mission is staunching the wound on your head. It’s no where near the point of requiring stitches, it had simply bleed a lot as head wounds are prone to doing. He cleans the wound efficiently, and before you know it the wound is hidden by a thick, white bandage on your forehead.

The rest of your wounds are thankfully small, and don’t take much treatment. After a few wipes from a damp cloth and some Neosporin your wounds are treated. The only evidence that still prove the incident occurred recently is your blood stained clothing.

Hobie stays in the same spot he was in as he treated your wounds, hovering almost. His normally large presence has shrunk and if your didn’t know better you’d say he was trying to hide himself away from you.

You are staring at your hands, finding your fingers very interesting as the intense silence clouds the air, closing in around your throat you want to say something to break it, but your throat chokes in on itself as soon as you open it.

“I’m sorry.”

Hobie looks so small as he whispers those words to you. His hands are ghosts on your thighs, you can feel him, but you’ve never felt so separated from him. He eyes the tile of the bathroom and you can practically see him beating himself up, pulling away from you in a belligerent attempt to protect you.

You gently place a hand on his cheek and turn his face towards yours, forcing him to look at you. “I don’t blame you.”

“I know.”

“I still trust you.”

He glanced away from you briefly, and blinks aggressively like he’s fighting off tears. “Are you sure you should?”

Instead of a verbal response you take one of his hands from your thigh and guide it your head, setting the tips of his fingers right on the thick bandage that lays there. “This is proof that you care. That it was an accident and we both regret it. I trust you with my life.”

He suddenly lurches forward, pulling you into his body with a sob. You hold him gently as he cries into you, rubbing his back comfortingly, letting him feel his emotions and let them out.

You have no idea how long you sat there on your bathroom counter, blood stained clothing as you try to piece back together the broken pieces of your boyfriend without any words. But none were needed.