Hobie X Y/n - Tumblr Posts

Hobie Brown x fem reader

When the reader has dyslexia, ADHD, and has trouble with spelling certain words or just forget how to spell the most simplest words ever gets insecure about their learning disability and then falls into a depressive episode (which is just them distancing themselves from other (Hobie) for weeks)

Who Needs Words Anyway?

Hobie Brown x femspiderpersonReader

Reader distances themself from Hobie after they fail to read a recent mission report in front of him. Hobie thinks nothing of it, but reader falls into a depressive episode.

Your Pov

I hate this, I fucking hate this. I asked Miguel to just get Lyla to tell me my missions over and over again, but it seems like that suck up ass won't listen. Now an envelope with my most recent mission assignment is staring at me. I feel myself begin to panic at the very idea of opening up the document, but considering my job, I have to. No way in hell am I going to get stuck in my reality, especially since my boyfriend might be restricted to see me. Although, he's never been one to play by the rules, and that's what I absolutely love about him. Taking much needed deep breath, I opened it and immediately I couldn't read a damn thing. All of the letters were all jumbled up except for a few, which didn't help because I still had no idea what the mission was. I let out a frustrated groan of annoyance and slammed the document down on the table in front of me.

"Oi, what's goin on in here love?" Hobie suddenly spoke making me nearly jump from my chair.

"Nothing, just a mission assignment, no biggie." I responded as casually as I could.

"Alright, what you got goin on?" He questioned walking towards me. He then sat on the table flashing one of his heart melting smiles that got me to date him in the first place. He really is a charmer, and he doesn't even need to try.

"Um...I haven't read it yet, but once I do I'll let you know." I said fidgeting with the paper before me.

"Can't you read it now, I want to see if there is a chance that I could come with you, not that I need permission or anything though." He said chuckling at the thought of breaking the rules once again.

"Nah, I think I'll read it later." I lied.

"Why can't you do it now, you ain't got nothin better to do." He joked.

"Sure, yea." I spoke quietly beginning to read the document once more yet failing once more. My anxiety began to spike considering Hobie still hadn't known about my conditions. I needed to get out as this situation was far too overwhelming for me to think. I began picking at my fingers trying to calm myself, but that didn't work. And suddenly I got up and ran out of the door unable to form a sentence to my boyfriend as he yelled my name.

Shooting my webs, I went to the highest point of the building and begin pacing all around it trying to calm myself. I couldn't face him and no way could I face Miguel again, especially since he knows about my conditions and hasn't even tried to accommodate me. Quickly I called Lyla and the fashionable AI came into view.

"Hey sugar, what's up?" She asked fixing her coat

"Can you please tell me my mission?" I asked her quickly

"Sure, but didn't you get the report?" she asked and I immedietly deadpanned at the fact that Miguel didn't even put my conditions on my file as she would know.

"Lyla I can't read them very well, can you please just tell me from now on and put it on my file considering the boss forgets to do so?" I asked her standing upside down looking at the futuristic city before me.

"Sure thing, and... done. Now as for that mission, you are to go to Earth-2341 and capture an anomoly known as the viper. Have fun!" Lyla said almost as though she was celebrating something.

"Thanks, I'll go right now." I told her knowing that going without preperation might not be a good idea.

"Be careful, want me to get Hobie to assist you?" She asked wiggling her eyebrows.

"Nah, I'll be fine." I reassured.

Three days later...

I was not in fact fine. My wounds were far more severe than I expected. I guess that's what I get for acting on my impulses. I numbly walked towards the infirmary sighing at the thought of getting scolded by the doctor for being too reckless again. My agony was washed away when out of the corner of my eye I saw Hobie. Although, as soon as that feeling of happiness came another feeling of regret and shame hit me like a truck and I began walking as fast as I could to try and avoid him. No way in hell was I going to talk to him right now, especially after what happened. I'm far too emmbarassed to be around him right now. However, I was no where near fast enough and I felt the soft touch of my boyfriend's hand on my shoulder and he tried to turn me around to face him.

"Hey love, oh shit are you alright?' Hobie greeted quickly as he began pulling my arm to the infirmary.

"No, I feel like shit, I was just on my way there and I don't need your help getting there, I know where its is." I snapped at him immidenietly regretting it due to the painfuil look in his beautiful brown eyes.

"I'm sorry, but don't take it out on me, I'm just trying to help." He said calmly and I was reminded once again why I'm with him in the first place. As he is the kindest and most honest person I have ever met.

"I don't need your help Hobie, just leave me be please, I need some space." I told him turning away and walking straight to the infirmary.

Two Weeks Later...

Fuck, I really should not have snapped at him like that. And all because I was too nervous to tell him about my dyslexia. He probably hates me now, but I'm too chicken shit to ask him. I haven't gotten much sleep since that day and I don't care considering I feel like I deserve it for how I treated my boyfriend. I sighed laying back down on my messy bed that I haven't had the energy to make it. Due to the severity of my injuries, I'm off missions for a few weeks until I'm fully healed. Miguel hates when we aren't perfect when completing our missions. I feel physically fine, I'm just not entirely there mentally at the moment. I felt so tired but all I've been doing is sleeping and waiting for Hobie to burst through the doors and make me do something with him. But he won't, I asked him to leave me alone and he's respecting that even though I don't want him too. Closing my eyes for the millionth time these past two weeks, I'm interrupted by someone shaking my head. My spidey sense didn't go off because it was the one and well many, Gwen Stacy.

"Get up, you need to go talk to him." She demanded picking me up off of my bed as I slouched onto the floor.

"No, don't wanna." I whined not looking up at her.

"Bullshit, you two love the hell out of each other. Talk to him and tell him everything." She said softer

"Girl, he's literally the least judgmental person ever. He won't even care about it because it doesn't effect you as a person." Gwen spoke crouching down placing her hand on my shoulder.

"You're right, you know where he is?" I asked getting up and finding fresher clothes to put on.

"Yeah, he's at his place." she said helping me pick something to wear even though there were piles of dirty clothes like everywhere.

"Thanks, wish me luck." I spoke finally dressed as I opened the portal to his dimension.

"You don't need it, but good luck." Gwen smiled with a thumbs up.

After making my way to his place I knocked on his door. He immediatley opened it and his eyes lit up as soon as he saw me. This clamed my nerves knowing he was still excited to see me I find myself seated on his couch that was probably over 100 years old. I can't complain though, this bitch was comfortable. Hobie stat on the other side of the couch looking at me as though he was waiting for me to speak.

"Love, you alright? What do you need to say." he asked

I took a deep shaky breath realizing its really okay. Gwen'sright about being the least most judgemental person here. Taking one more deep breath I began to tell him.

" First off, I'm so sorry for snapping at you two weeks ago and for telling you to leave me alone. The reason for it is that have dyslexyia meaning I sometimes get certain words mixed up and that's why I prefer to just be told my mission by Lyla rather than receiving a report like you or Gwen. I didn't tell you because I felt embarassed about it." I told him quickly looking down at my hands as I picked at my left palm.

"Love, that ain't nothing to be embarressed about. Wanna know why?" Hobie questioned with his right eyebrow cocked with a mischevious grin on his face.

"Why?" I chuckled at his face knowing he's say something ridiclous.

"Who needs words anyway, none of em' make sense most of the time." he joked cuckling at himself

"Pfft, Hobie lots of people do, that's how people communicate." I responded folding my arms across my chest giving him a grin as well.

"Nah, fuck the rules and everyone else. But seriously I'm glad you told me I feel like I know you better. So thank you for letting me in on that, love and I forgive you." Hobie reassured as he scooted next to me wrapping his longs arms around my body in a comforting hug as he stroked my head.

"I love you." I whispered leaning into him.

"Yeah, I love ya too." he said as he kissed my forehead nuzzling into temple. "Alright now, how's bout we cuddle and then order some pizza later, yea?" He suggested.

"Yeah, sounds good to me, Hobie." I told him as we both basked in the warmth of each other.

Thank you so much for reading💜

I hope I executed this well enough. I apologize if I did not. Im not the best at writing these topics, but I did my best. I’m officially off my break!

Please feel free to comment, request, and reblog

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

On the fifth day of Christmas…

𝔄 𝔓𝔲𝔫𝔨 ℜ𝔬𝔠𝔨 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Hobie Brown x Black!Fem Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔥 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛1.5K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ It’s time to decorate the tree, although it’s not going according to plan. You had the perfect idea of how a Christmas tree should look. However, your boyfriend, Hobie, had other ideas. You both begin to argue and it seems to be going no where. Words are said and feelings get hurt. Will you be able to fix this?

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Guys, I can confirm that Hobie is just a big kid on the inside. But while some might think he’s spewing nonsense, he might actually have a point. I hope you enjoy!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

“No, Hobes! It doesn’t go there.” I swat Hobie’s hand away from the tree as he attempts to place one of his Star Wars ornaments in the center. It's Christmas Eve and Hobie and I are facing off in front of a pile of decorations. This familiar argument about how to decorate the tree is playing out for what feels like the millionth time. My preference leans towards a more structured and organized aesthetic, while Hobie leans towards a free and chaotic approach, arguing that an orderly tree is a submission to capitalism.

“Right, how 'bout this, then?” Hobie holds up some blue tinsel, and I immediately push his hands away from the tree once again.

"I'm not putting that on the tree, Hobie. It goes gold and then red! Blue shouldn’t be anywhere near this tree." I explain while wrapping the red tinsel around the tree. Hobie rolls his eyes.

“What’s the issue? Blue’s a good color.” He throws his hands up, looking at me incredulously. Ignoring him, I continue sorting through the decorations for matching ornaments.

“Oh, so you're just gonna let the suits dictate your every move, huh? You gonna let the capitalist drones run your life?" Hobie accuses, snatching the tinsel from my hands and wrapping it the opposite way.

"Oh, don't start that, Hobie. I just want our tree to look nice and neat this year." I argue, reclaiming the tinsel and wrapping it correctly. Hobie persists, emphasizing his disdain for conforming to holiday traditions dictated by corporations.

“Yeah, you're just a conformist sheep, ain't ya? No clue what's really goin' on, just followin' the herd. Wake up, man!” He says angrily, wrapping the tinsel even more so. He looks at me as if I am completely clueless.

"Conformist to what? Santa Claus's evil agenda?" I mock, yanking the tinsel out of his hands. Hobie snickers, but he doesn’t look impressed.

“The corporations are manipulating the spirit of Christmas, so you’ll buy presents! Can’t you see that, you wanker?”

"Who gives a damn? It's Christmas for Christ's sake!" I throw my hands up and it seems our conversation is getting out of hand. Hobie scrunches up his nose as the argument escalates.

“Exactly! It’s Christmas! The day when you’re supposed to be spending time with people you love, not maxing out your credit card on useless junk. Can't blame ya, it's that corporate mind game. Same goes for Valentine's Day—just another cash grab, man!” He starts to enter into his rant about how Valentine’s Day is pointless. Ignoring his conspiracy theories, I redirect our focus.

"Don't even start! Listen, we're not putting your stupid Star Wars ornaments on the tree and that's final. Now stop arguing and hand me those angel ornaments, will you?" I huff as I hold out my hand, determined to maintain order.

“These Star Wars ornaments are rad! Come on, just a little—” Hobie protests, attempting to convince me to allow at least one Star Wars ornament. "How 'bout just the Baby Yoda? Stick it in the back, it'll be lowkey." I sigh, contemplating the idea for a moment.

"Fine, you can put it right there." I relent, pointing to the spot on the tree. Hobie's face immediately lights up when I give in and allow him to put a baby Yoda ornament up, near the back. Despite his punk rock appearance, he actually has a soft side.

"Cheers, luv," Hobie smiles at me. He quickly unwraps the baby Yoda ornament and carefully placed it where I pointed, and then steps back to admire the result. I cringe at the way it clashes with my previous work.

“So what do you think?” He asks, looking over at me. I don’t really respond, instead looking off to the side. Hobie’s smile begins to fade when he realizes that I am unimpressed by the result of his handiwork.

“What’s wrong with it?” His facial expression turns into one of confusion. “I think it turned out pretty nice,” He said, defending his choice of decoration.

"It doesn't match, Hobes. It looks out of place like I knew it would." I grumble, crossing my arms. Hobie looks at me, genuinely hurt, and his expression turns sad.

"Sorry, luv..." He apologizes, his voice soft and sincere. "I just thought it would be cool... But I guess I don't know anything about aesthetics." He puts his hands in his pockets and lowers his head. He seems genuinely upset that I didn't like his contribution. Hobie turns away from me, deflated as he walks out of the room. I feel a twinge of guilt as I turn to look back at the tree.

His shoulders are hunched up and he is obviously disappointed. As he leaves the room, he mutters, "Stupid Christmas tree..." under his breath. I can't help but feel a bit guilty as I continue to look at the tree.

I stare at it, watching the out-of-place ornament, and thinking, 'Is it really worth it?' I just made a whole argument out of something we were meant to be doing together. I'd put my need for perfection over my own boyfriend and now he's upset. And why? Because some baby Yoda ornament didn't match my idea of what a Christmas tree should look like.

It really clicks in my head. Hobie wasn't just being a nonconformist or trying to ruin the tree. He was trying to have fun with his girlfriend and decorate the tree in a way that shows both of our creativity. I sigh as I turn away from the tree and run to the kitchen to where Hobie is.

"Hobie? Babe?" I find him sitting at the kitchen table with his back towards me. He seems to be focused on something, probably sulking. I call his name again and he slowly turns to look at me.

"Yeah, luv?" He asks, trying to sound cool and nonchalant, but his hurt expression betrays him. I sit across from him and look into his eyes. He avoids my gaze. I place my hand gently on his and bite my lip as I try to find words.

"Hobie, I'm sorry." I start. Hobie feels a wave of relief wash over him when I apologize. He looks up at me and his expression softens. He's clearly still hurt, but he seems much more relaxed knowing that I still care about his feelings.

"It's alright, luv," Hobie replies, giving my hand a little squeeze as he looks into my eyes. "I might've gone a bit overboard, I get it. The Christmas vibes hit me hard, you know? Just wanted to make it extra special 'cause I know it's a big deal for you. And-" He pauses as I press my finger to his lips.

"No, Hobie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, or tried to shut down your ideas. This isn't my home and that isn't my tree. It's our home and our tree. And it should reflect both of our creativity, not just what I think it should." Hobie's face brightens as I say that. He is a bit taken aback by my admission, but also really appreciates it. His expression turns into a smile as he stands up, pulling me with him.

"That's... really sweet, luv." He says in a soft voice and pulls me into a warm hug. "And you're right, this is our home, and it should reflect both of our tastes." He pauses and then speaks again in a more playful tone. "Even if you have bad taste."

I push away from the hug, feigning a look of offense as I playfully swat his shoulder. "I do not have bad taste!" Hobie pulls me back in and leans in to kiss my lips.

"Yes, you do. But at least you're pretty to look at." He says in a joking manner, then gives me another kiss. His lips press against mine with a tender and passionate intensity. His tongue brushes along my lips momentarily before he pulls his head back, keeping his lips close to mine.

"So, do you wanna take a break from decorating the tree and, you know...?" He trails off suggestively with a smirk and I laugh, rolling my eyes.

"Babe! We need to finish the tree!" I manage to say between giggles as I try to escape his grip. He doesn't let me pull away, instead he picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"Tree's not going anywhere, luv. We can decorate it tomorrow." Hobie mumbles against my skin, kissing my neck and starts walking towards our bedroom.

"But tomorrow's Christmas!" I shout before the door slams shut.

Okay, I need some help.

I was reading this fic, it was Jung Hoseok and Reader.

The reader was in a relationship with Hobi but they’re breakup because he was thinking that she (reader) got cheated on him, so he dump her and basically all members stopped talking to her too, and then she realized that she was pregnant with Hoseok baby but she didn’t tell him because it was useless, so she keep the pregnancy to hers only because reader has no family close so, and then the doctor says to her that she was having twins, she have the babies and work her ass off to provide to them, moving forward or more exactly 4-5 years, she decides to go at the park with her twins and make a cute little picnic with them, and then out of nowhere the twins see this cute dog and play with him, the dog was Jungkook’s dog, he recognized her and then saw the twins and they’re look exactly like ofc Hobi, but she (reader) run away as fast as she can because she has fear that if Hobi claim some right on they’re children he gonna take them from her.

And that’s chapter one and I think a Drabble.

But I can’t find the authors name, I scroll on my page but I can’t find them.

Hobie brown. The one who either Overstims, or edges. It don't matter he'll never do a in between. His fingers so skilled inside your cunt and so fast too. He'll have you cumming in minutes if it was possible. Him scissoring and curling deep inside you touching your gummy walls and that g spot multiple times with his middle and ring finger. He won't stop until he feels like you had enough.

Hobie I love you

You texted him but he usually never responds back after you say that. Is he losing feelings? Does he not care for you anymore? Was it like he forgot about your existence the minute you guys stop talking. You couldn't get these thoughts out of your head. Hobie was always busy fighting so you barely could find him or he would come back home. Miguel makes him work his ass off so you hated him for that.You understand that he's not always there but you sometimes want him to be. You hear someone downstairs and surprise surprise. It was Hobie Brown. You we're about to greet him before he walked away. Was he not happy to see you or something? It was 3 days ever since he came back home. But it was somewhere around 3 in the morning. As he walked into the kitchen you we're left looking stuck at him.Something is wrong with him. So you walked in the kitchen after him. Calling his name. You spoke in a soft and sweet tone. Like sweet honey! He looks at you tired as you notice his under eye darkening the last time you saw him. He got no sleep. You walk towards him kissing him softly yet passionately as he quickly returns it. His hands quickly grabbing your hips and pushing you against him holding onto you as you broke the kiss and smile at him softly. He continues to hold you against him. Not wanting to let go anytime soon. He starts noticing you slowly dozing off into his chest. He kisses you're forehead and takes you upstairs slowly and gently placing you on your bed with him still holding you never letting you go. He smiles to you as he also drifts off to his deep slumber.

Luv ya too... Now get some rest.. You need it..

Should I finish this. 🧍🏾‍♀️

THIS IS SO FUNNY I LOVE IT

Can I request, by chance, a social media thing where Y/N constantly posts where she like makes fun of Hobie but it comes out that she likes him please?

hobie x reader smau!!

a/n: i kinda made it more flirty if thats okay and sorry this took me an entire month anon, hope you enjoyed and thank you for requesting!!

ⓒ wingedsirens2023— do not steal, copy or translate

I got you dw 🤞🏻Hope you like it

Hobie x reader

You guys walked into the shop together but eventually splitted up to go search for different things. You were doing fine searching for whatever you came in for. But then you were disturbed by a voice "Hi" it said.

You turned your head to face the voice and it was an employee. You said said and quickly looked away acting uninterested and looked down the aisle. The worker didn't seem to get the hint though and leaned against the shelf. He kept on talking to you and getting even more flirty as time went on. You were frozen in place and your heart rapidly beat.

You didn't know what to do if you could do anything. Your discomfort was clear but the employee ignored it. "Are you not going to speak to me? Not even tell me how your day is going?" the worker leaned into you ear and whispered

Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat and you broke out in a cold sweat. How you wish Hobie was har right now. "Is everything alright love?" A familiar voice was behind you and wraps and arm around your waist and glares down at the worker.

The worker freezes and grumbles before walking away. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and relaxed. You turned around to meet your boyfriend's gaze. "Thank you Hobie" you said and gave a small smile "Of course" he placed a kiss to your head

"I got my stuff what 'bout you?" He says "I think I got everything, honestly I just wanna get out of here.." you say and look away. Hobie nods and guides you to the check out and you guys pay for your stuff and exit the building.

I was walking with my mom into a store and a guy seen me and decided to say hi and I acted uninterested so he kept trying to ask how my day was

IT WAS A WORKER so I couldn’t do nothing 😞

I thought of Hobie after. because I feel like he’d be protective typa boyfriend to just be looking at something, hear the partner get catcalled/flirted with and the partner is obviously uncomfortable and he just walks up like “what’s up love?” And leans staring down the guy

But the point is now I really wanna fic with that 😭 so if any of my followers will write or know someone who can please tell me 🙏🙏

hiii!!!

Can I request Hobbie w/ a gyaru gf, I can imagine it working with gyaru starting off as a rebellion against japan's beuty/ social standard <3

落ち着く？(calm down?)

(hobie x gyaru!gf)

warning: really bad translations!! i don’t speak japanese #sorry

a/n: technically, no gender is named in this. but it is DEFINITELY a fem fic. anyway: be who you want because at the end of the day, you're opinion is the only one that truly matters. #reqsopen #messageme #sorry this took so long my dad had surgery and i was stuck taking care of him but he's all good

ill provide translations dw

the stares weren’t unfamiliar, in fact, you embraced it. it came with having some semblance of a personality that these people clearly feared admired. you just wish yours, and hobie’s, appearance alike weren’t so abstract to the general public.

it's as if you were committing a war crime by having a tan. in japan, any difference from the norm is seen as an insult to those who surround you. truthfully though, that was why you began dressing gyaru in the first place.

conforming had never been your thing, especially when it came to how you dressed. you were always one to disobey even when you got a nagging grandmother in your ear.

"おじさんたちの前に姿をさらすことになる、" (cover up, you're exposing yourself to your uncles.)

a common phrase that plagues the minds of all young teens in japan. the idea that you need to cover up, instead of your uncles needing not to stare. she means well truly but it's just a showcase of how plagued the mind is of those who grew up and reside in japan.

"looking lovely as always my dear," his thick english accent coats your mind. a hand wraps around your shoulder.

hobie. at least you had one person that you could voice your woes to.

"hungry?" he asks as he stretches slightly. the two of you met in the heart of kawaramachi. a charming street that over looks a dazzling river. although you couldn't bring yourself to care in this moment.

you turn to look up at him, covering in diy piercings and tattered clothes that, even in london, are seen as trashy. although, he didn't seem nearly as bothered by the situation at hand. how people now adays sneer and turn away from any expression of a sense of self.

"いいえ, ぼくのおばあちゃん practically shoved fruit down my throat this morning," you say with a slightly exasperated tone. (no, my grandma practically shoved fruit down my throat this morning)

"wha's up, luv?" he say in a cool tone, but lying underneath holds a bit of concern for your, clearly annoyed, timbre.

"don't you think this is a bit bullshit?" you say looking forward as you walk side by side down the streets of kyoto. "like even a little," you say referencing the people who can' t seem to take their eyes off the two of you. like you're some zoo animal.

"wha? them people? don' pay attention to them. they're bloody barmy." he says, you're suprised he's missing the point.

you grumble at his words. "why do i have to be the one to ignore it. why can't they just not stare in the first place. we've got a myriad of tourist attractions and yet my makeup and clothes are the only things they can keep their fucking eyes on."

ordinarily, you'd wait to voice your opinions until you reach a more secluded area. especially since foul language is a more frowned upon subject. but today you felt like pointing out the issues with society. with the standards for women.

thin, fair skin, straight hair, minimal makeup.

pray tell you experiment with makeup. maybe wear a short skirt and vibrant colors. god forbid you wear anything revealing in public. may as well give your obaasan a heart attack the second you put any jewelry with color on yourself. (a commonly used name for grandmother, in japanese)

hobie hums and looks down at you. "you're really chuffed 'bout this aren't you dove?"

"you aren't?"

"im formulatin'" responds non chalantly. you take a deep breath. you knew you couldn't change the who world over night but if one person wouldn't gawk at you as you walked down the street that would be mighty nice. you lean into his side. "how 'bout we think how daft this is over a cuppa,"

you nod softly, almost undetectable to those who aren't paying attention to your every move. "do you get bothered by the stares?"

hobie looks up. considering his height, he practically towers over you and the rest of japan. his eyes scan the crowd, catching all the eyes that fall over him and you. he sighs.

"no' anymore," he says

"anymore?" you half expected hobie to just say no. to have always been as unbothered as he is now. to never have needed to learn the skill of ignoring the whispers and distraught stares that befall him.

he nods silently and leads you into a small restaurant. it smells of herbs and soup. a mix between sweet and salty. the scent of a tea immediately calms your nervous system. hobie slots the two of you into a corner.

"luv, i wasn't always li' this,"

"well i know, i just, you always seems so confident. like nothing gets on your nerves besides capitalism and those white dogs that are always barking." you say it semi sincerely but you smile when your joke earns a chuckle from hobie.

"you are a sight," he says glancing over you. it's a comforting feeling as he takes in your unique appearance. the tan you sport, even though it's nearing winter, and the colors too. almost completely neon, sans the animal print that you don on your boots.

he scans over your face. your eccentric makeup, all perfectly practiced and executed on your face. he grins.

"you 'on't need anybody else to tell you tha'," he says. "sure they might stare, but their opinion is rubbish."

you smile. it's rare you get hobie in such a state where he truly speaks from his heart. but you can't get enough. it's just you and hobie. at the end of the day, that's all you truly need.

The Whole Being Soulmates Thing

summary; in this world, soulmates exist. he has one. it’s just that he already found someone, and your marks don’t match at all.

or, in which a stupidly stubborn punk in stupidly in love with someone who’s not his stupid ‘real’ soulmate.

pairing; hobie brown x reader, spider-punk x reader (soulmate!au)

warning(s); mentions of police brutality, not-too-detailed descriptions of injuries. r is non-gendered, no mention of r’s race. not proofread & written in the wee hours.

i am not black, i don’t have wicks. i did some research on how to properly care for them and wrote tiny parts in here with the info i had, but it may not be totally accurate. if something is wring, let me know. same for the lcp.

also hobie might sound a bit ooc but it’s a quiet fic and we don’t rly see him ‘quiet’ so eat my ahh(/j)

inspired by this post by @corrodedcoffeen ! not exactly 100% accurate but yea

He lived in a world full of soulmates and soulmarks.

Everyone who had a soulmate had a soulmark, like a little tattoo; whether it be on their arm, leg, back, even on their face. Sometimes, a person would have multiple soulmarks. In other cases, they wouldn’t have any at all. Some people were born with their marks, some appeared later down the line.

In most cases, people would do anything to find their soulmate. To be with them. To unite with their missing half.

Hobie Brown was among those who’d been born with a soulmate. Four little streaks that wrapped halfway around his left arm, like a scar from an animal that had halfheartedly tried to claw the whole thing off at birth.

Hobie loved his soulmark.

Not because he’d met his soulmate. Nor was it because the idea of a predestined partner made him giddy. No, it was because he felt a sense of pride whenever he looked at it. Pride that he’d beaten the system when he got you.

His thoughts wander as he sits on your your and his shared bed, a towel flat under his bum to prevent any grime that may be on his suit from rubbing off on the sheets. His vest and T-shirt had been haphazardly folded and placed on the bathroom sink, desperately needing a thorough cleaning after a particularly hard day, which left his torso bare for you to assess and repair the damage he’d been dealt once you peeled off the top half of his suit.

“Bit eager, yeah?” He’d joked as you hastily helped him out of his clothes, that cheeky smirk still shining through on his tear-streaked face. You’d answered with an exasperated laugh.

He had come home at two in the morning, stumbling through the window with a hand over the right side of his mask. When he’d ripped it off, tossing it on a random bit of the floor somewhere, you were met with red eyes, wet cheeks, a runny nose and a blood-crusted lip. Apparently, he’d been at the frontlines of a protest when one of the tear gas shells hit him right in the face, cracking his right eye lense and leaving him vulnerable to the gas’s full effect. You didn’t need to be told what happened to know what came next. After all, it was always the same routine with the pigs - gas the crowd and beat any individuals that strayed from the mass.

Now, as Hobie’s fingers tap a little rhythm on the mattress, your hands glide a washcloth long his skin, being careful to minimize pressure on his bruises. Which, granted, is hard when they cover most of his back and ribcage, but you made it work somehow. Tear gas residue sticks to anything it can, and although his body was mostly had been mostly covered, it gave the both of you peace of mind to clean anything off just in case. He thanks you by softly gripping your other hand, his fingers lacing together with yours.

“Need more milk?” You ask, going to put the cloth down and grab the already half-empty sprayer on the ground next to the bed, having already been used in the bathroom just minutes prior and put there just in case. He shakes his head, the hand that’s not on yours gently grabbing your wrist and guiding it back to his chest.

As you continue, he thinks back to the first time he’d held your hand like that.

It was when the two of you were barely teenagers, when he didn’t fully understand how the whole ‘soulmates’ thing even worked, or how messed up it really was. The only thing he really knew was that people were supposed to stay together forever if their marks matched, even if that wasn’t always the case.

Having known each other since you were just kids, he remembers wishing so badly that your soulmark matched his. He had wished that little planet on your ankle could be washed away, a temporary tattoo or doodle instead of an actual mark. He remembers drawing little black holes at the corners of his school worksheets, hoping that one of them would eventually swallow your mark whole and replace it with four lines identical to his.

Back then, he had wished his ugly little bands would somehow arrange themselves into a square. At least then he could insist that his mark was a planet. A weird square one, yeah, but a planet just like yours.

But as you looked at him with that warm glow in your eyes, he swore you were the best thing that had ever happened to him, soulmate or not.

If only that kid could see him now - here, with you.

He suppresses a smile that threatens to slip onto his face, as moving his lips makes the cut sting.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” you mutter, wiping at the last bit of his torso. Hobie lets out a low sigh.

“‘M sorry love,” he says back, giving your hand a little squeeze. He really does mean it. He hates seeing the worry and sadness in your eyes every time he came back to you after one of these days. Fuck knows how he’d cope with it if you came home like this just every now and again, let alone what seemed like every other day recently. “I do try to be careful.”

You hum in response, getting up from your spot and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He does so with little to no hesitation, only waiting a moment to brace himself for the soreness that would follow. You lead him to the bathroom.

“Everything off,” you say, then immediately follow it up with, “Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say nothin’!” Hobie protests, feigning offense. As if that glint in his eye didn’t give it away.

“You need to get cleaned off properly.” You stress the lest word, letting go of his hand so that he can strip. “You can’t just go to bed after a quick wipe-down tonight. You need a shower.”

“But it’s gonna be cold.” Hobie groans. Tear gas wasn’t anything new, he’d had to clean the residue off of himself more times than he could count. That didn’t mean he was a fan of the cold showers that did most of the actual cleaning. Despite his complaints, he hastily steps out of his remaining articles of clothing as you start the water.

His muscles tense as he steps into the shower, pulling him out of his somewhat drowsy state. He quickly scrubs every part of his body, wanting to get out as fast as possible.

He washes his hair out last, taking care to not mess them up no matter how much he hates the temperature of the water. He’d made the mistake of trying to shampoo the whole of his head in one go just once before, and he’d be damned if he had to go running to the auntie down the street again to fix any tangles neither you nor him could sort out.

In his defense, he’d almost bled out just a couple hours beforehand that day. Having your first (superhero-related) near-death experience tends to shake you up a little.

“You’re such a man-baby,” you’d teased him as Hobie gripped your hand for dear life, the woman you’d guaranteed could get that nightmare of a knot out sorting through his hair with an arsenal of olive oil and a wide toothed comb.

“Oh piss off—” his reply was cut short as she detangled a particularly nasty bit of the problem, unfortunately having to tug exceptionally hard at his head. “Ow!”

The woman - Aunt Margaret, as you’d introduced her - tsked at him to sit still, poking at the tangle with the handle of her comb to see if it would give way now. Luckily, most of it did. She muttered something along the lines of ‘young people nowadays’, but in a sort of gruffly affectionate sort of way. From what you’d told him, Aunt Margaret was sort of the neighborhood mom, always helping people who needed it no matter how much she gave them grief for it.

The three of you made small talk over tea after his hair was nice and hairball-free, albeit a little slippery. Turned out, Aunt Margaret had plenty of stories of her own to share. Hobie had been delighted to hear about everything that had happened when she was a part of the League of Colored Peoples, almost ready to practically beg the woman to adopt him.

Two weeks later, when he decided to drop by again, the topic of soulmates came up. Aunt Margaret asked if he’d found his soulmate yet, to which he replied he didn’t believe in the soulmate system. She nodded in agreement.

“Just as well,” she had said, a frown making its way onto her face. “I’ve seen too many good people get their hearts broken because of that bloody mark.” She eyed his upper arm, exposed in the sleeveless top he’d worn at the time. “I got mine covered ages ago.”

“Did you meet your soulmate before that?”

Aunt Margaret shook her head. “That’s a story for another time, Bartholomew.”

He still makes time for tea with her every week or so.

The second he steps out of the shower, he’s greeted with a huge, warm towel fresh from the dryer. He wraps it around himself as you usher him back to the bedroom where you’d laid out some comfy clothes for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the clothes he’d discarded on the bathroom floor is long gone, along with his vest and tee that were sitting on the sink.

“I put the studs out on the veranda to air out,” you say, noticing him glance at the empty sink. “They’ll need washing, though. My eyes got all weird when I looked at the vest too close, and your belt’s not much different. The rest of everything’s in the machine.”

Pulling on his bottoms, Hobie silently nods at your words before pulling the tank top you’d dug out for him over his head. He then walks over to place a kiss on your head. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to leech off your warmth. He lets out a little noise of contentment when he feels you hug him back.

Wordlessly, he walks the two of you to your the shared vanity, plopping himself down on the seat. You grab the hairdryer off the table, checking to make sure it’s okay for you to help before switching it on to dry his wicks. Hobie closes his eyes as you make your way through each piece, eventually stopping once there’s no more water to be purged. Your fingers sorting through his hair so carefully is calming - almost therapeutic, and it takes all his willpower to keep himself sitting straight up for you.

After that, he clumsily grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, ignoring how you yelp in surprise and unplugging the dryer. He then proceeds to carry you around your place, flicking off all the lights before getting back to the bedroom and (softly) throwing you on the mattress.

“Was that really necessary?” You groan as he throws the sheets over the both of you. Hobie then proceeds to drag himself half on top of you, using you as a full body pillow.

“Definitely.” He replies, his voice a bit muffled against your pajamas.

You laugh. “Sure.”

He tilts his head up to give you a goodnight kiss, murmuring ‘dream ‘bout me’ next to your ear to which you respond by playfully pushing him away.

“Rude,” He mutters, smiling into your clothes as he huffs in indignation. Your laugh echoes through your body, a sound more beautiful than any music he had or would ever hear.

He doesn’t fall asleep too easily that night. Rogue thoughts on soulmates and fate flinging about his skull. For some reason, they’d all picked tonight to bug him to pieces.

Unknowingly, his grip around you tightens, feeling your weight in his arms. It grounds him as all the doubts try to throw him off, to destabilize something perfectly happy.

What if they find their soulmate? Then they’ll decide if they want me or them. (Me.)

What if I find my soulmate? What, like I’d break their heart for a stranger? Yeah. Fat chance.

He swatted those questions away like pesky little mosquitoes until he eventually fell asleep, choosing to focus instead on your heartbeat ringing in his ears.

So what if you two weren’t soulmates? He loves you, you love him. That’s all that matters.

The universe can suck an egg.

—

The next morning, Hobie woke up at 11, as usual. You woke up right after him as he stirred, like you always did. The two of you lounged in the comfort of your the sheets for a while before you had to eventually get up for breakfast.

Hobie was trailing behind you on your walk to the kitchen when something catches his eye.

His reflection in the vanity mirror.

Something’s… off.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Y/n?” He calls, looking down at his upper arm just to make sure the mirror isn’t playing tricks on him. Sure enough, there it is.

You turned around at his voice, eyebrows furrowed in a confused way. “Hm?”

“Look.”

He watches as your confusion morphed into surprise and then back to confusion again. Then you auickly check your ankle, confusion turning into realization.

“We match.”

Your soulmarks had somehow changed overnight, turning into small, stylized sun symbols that stand out more than either of your marks before ever did, clear as day.

It’s a few moments of stunned silence before laughter breaks out between the two of you.

“You know what we have to do now,” you manage, an arm around the front of your midsection and the other hand on your face.

“I think I do.” Hobie says, practically wheezing

By the end of the day, the two of you have covered up your new soulmarks with mismatching tattoos.

hobie blurb bc we all know those fingers are good at more than just playing guitar

hobie brown loves the fact that his fingers can make music in two ways. he can play his guitar and strum intricate cords that took him years to learn. and he can play your music. touching you in just the right way to get those pretty moans out your mouth and carefully using his fingers to hit all of those good spots inside of you.

unlike music, hobie doesn’t wanna share these noises with the world. these are only patterns that he’ll understand, only he can make you feel this good. of course he’d show you off. but only he gets to know the symphonies you chant in the bedroom. a crying moaning mess because his long fingers are filling you up so good while you beg him to slow down. he eggs you on, doing things that he knows will make you louder. hobie would get down on his knees and eat you out, of course for his and your pleasure, but also to hear those songs spilling from your mouth. it’s a beautifully romantic melody.