Hobie X Reader - Tumblr Posts
Y’all can ask me questions yk… I’m boreddd
How have u beeen?
TWIINNN I’ve been pretty good tbh. Goin to highschool soon so im kinda excited for dat. im also goin a water park tomorrow cuz it’s hot as shit in Florida
Fave meme?
This shit right here ⬇️
Always has me screamin
I GOT THE BUILD A BEAR SHURI BEAR
ur fuckin lyin LEMME SEE
shuri’s knees failin on her durin trainin cuz Okoye be too damn harsh
Do y’all ears perc up when u hear ur name?!?!?!
DROP THEM HOBIE BROWN X M!READER HEADCANONS HOMIE!! 😼
-Headcannons-
;Hobie Brown
Hobie Brown x Male reader
🎸 | Masterlist | 🎸
YESSIR😼😼 can y’all tell I ran out of titles? incase you didn’t, I ran out of titles. I have so many exams and test this month so I’m gonna be more inactive :,( also, do y’all like the new title style?? ^^
Warnings: none
-Two words about Hobie. Nail biter. He 100% bites his nails without even noticing. He usually has on nail polish, but it’s always chipped since he keeps biting his nails. But he can’t be bothered to fix up his nails every time he bites on them, it happens so often
-Hobie lets you put random things like ribbons in his hair when y’all are having fun together.
-He’d let you do the whole skincare routine on him. Face mask, oils and everything, even with the little headband thingy on.
-Has like at least five songs secretly written about you somewhere hidden at his place. He’ll never tell you about them, and if he does he’ll definitely never tell you where the songs are hidden.
-Hobie is actually super gentle if you ever ask for him to paint your nails, he’d be the carefullest guy ever about it. He’d also choose the best colours if you let him or he’ll choose the silliest colours. No in between.
-He has tried a surprising amount of different energy drinks, like monster, red bull, Gatorade, Mountain Dew and ect. He also always has at least one energy drink at home.
Author's note: This is probably super cringe, but my sister had a dream, and it inspired me to write this for her.
Pairing: Hobie brown x reader
Enjoy!?!?
Inconsistent
The party had been.... loud. She could feel the bass in her chest, and in any other situation, with any other song, she would have been okay with the feeling.
She should have never let her friend push her into coming to this party. It was a mistake. She knew she would just be sitting on the couch, playing on her phone (which died), and petting the tiny dog someone had brought. She wouldn't even touch the food or drinks, not trusting it. She was what people would call boring. She preferred staying home, listening to her music, and playing games, hanging out with her friends, not strangers. Said friend had disappeared ages ago, leaving to most likely hook up with some hot Brit.
She was exhausted, her social meter having drained hours ago and then some. She probably would have cried when she saw that it was two o'clock in the morning if it weren't for the host shouting that they had to end it early. 'Early?!!? Two in the morning is considered fucking early,' she thought to herself as the crowd whined and groaned. The host looked worried as hell, in turn, making her worry too, maybe something happened.
It was about an hour before everyone was gone, with everyone either saying goodbyes or just not wanting to leave. Until it was just her, waiting on her friend, just waiting on her friend.
As she looked around nervously, she noticed just how big of a mess had been made. Beer cans and bottles littered the ground. Suspicious substances and trash are scattered everywhere, making her cringe as she realized that what she was smelling wasn't the party-goers. She wanted to throw up, she had a headache. Why did people enjoy this? Where the hell was her friend?
'Best thing to do would probably be to clean up. While I wait,' she thought to herself, heading for the kitchen. She hoped they wouldn't mind if she used their cleaning supplies.
"Stealing stuff are we," she jumped at the sudden voice coming from behind her. All she let out was a gasp at the surprise, spinning around to meet the culprit in the eye. He leaned against the counter with a grin, his punk attire and incredible hair and piercings immediately screaming out to her. When he raised a thick brow at her, she realized that she, in fact, hadn't answered him yet.
She was quick to shake her head then, motioning to the cleaning supplies and then back to herself. "O-oh n-no! I was just going to clean up," she whispered, holding up her hands in surrender. He chuckled at that, making her confused in the process. "You didn't even make this mess, love. I saw you," he accused her, pushing himself off the counter to stand to his full height. Even with her crouching down like she was, she could tell he was tall, even without the platforms he was wearing. He was easily 6'3 without the shoes. She also didn't fail to notice the color choice for his laces. Yeah, he was definitely punk.
"And sorry to say, but I think your mates ditched you," he added, watching her face fall a little. As quickly as it fell, her face formed to that of anger just as quickly. She spun around, snatching the cleaning supplies from under the kitchen sink and trying not to cry in front of this random stranger as she muttered angrily to herself. "Of course, fuck," the man could just barely make out between it all.
When she stood up, he was quick to grab her arm, making her spin around and stare at him in surprise. "Let me help you with that love," he encouraged, taking the roll of trash bags from her elbow. She was even more surprised now. From his laid-back attitude to his entire get-up, she had assumed he wouldn't even care if someone had taken a shit on the tables. "You really don't have to. I just wanted to do something nice for this guy," she insisted, shuffling things around in her arms and using her now free arm to try and take the roll from his hand.
He was quick to lift the roll above his head, earning a slight furrow of her brows in agitation. "And what if I want to do something nice for this gal right in front of me," he questioned with a raised brow and a smug grin. She raised a brow in confusion as she looked him up and down, 'maybe he's a little drunk.' "Really, I assumed you wouldn't care about any of this, most people who come to these parties don't," she responded, motioning to the case in point surrounding them both.
He hummed and nodded at the fair point before grinning again, "It's a good thing I don't believe in consistency then, yeah?"
His quip made her snort in amusement, a grin spreading across her own features. Eventually, she relented, shaking her head almost fondly, "Fine, just- be safe when you head outside. Wouldn't want some bum with a knife to get ya. Yeah?" She mocked, obvious fake accent shining through. "I'll be fine, love," he insisted, ripping off a bag and opening it.
~~~
So it began, silently between the two they both cleaned the rooms. She tossed suspicious substances down the toilet while he tossed beer cans in the trash bag.
The whole thing took almost an hour, but before they knew it, they both stood next to each other, admiring the living room and kitchen. "I think it looks clearer than before. You clean up well," the man complimented, eyeing and nudging her as he did. She looked up at him and grinned before looking back. "Yeah, wish there was something I could do about the smell, though," she responded, grimacing at the reminder.
"Honestly, I don't think there's anything you could do," he shot back, jingling his keys in his hand. "Regardless, thank you for your help," she spoke as she gathered her things and yawned. "Wait, where're you goin'," he stopped her as she headed for the door, earning a confused look from her. "Home, my friend left, remember, I'll probably have to catch a taxi," she explained. He shook his head, "Nah love, it's the middle of the night. I can't let you do that."
She eyed him suspiciously at his statement, glancing at the clock as she thought it over. He hadn't really given her any reasons to not trust him, and she wasn't really getting any bad vibes from him. In the end, she agreed, hoping her intuition wasn't wrong this time.
She followed him to his van, shocked as he opened the passenger door for her. Not only was he fine as fuck, but he was a gentleman too, maybe her intuition was correct.
She told him the address, and he nodded knowingly as he pulled out of the driveway. She nodded to the music as he drove, not recognizing the song but enjoying the beat regardless.
"I know it was probably a bit strange for someone like me to be at a party like that," she spoke over the music, breaking the silence between them. He glanced at her, telling her that she had his attention. She cleared her throat before continuing, "but thank you for playing along with it." He scoffed and shrugged his shoulders, "Don't even say that. It was different. Most of these twat's don't give a rats ass anyhow." She smiled, humming in response. That was, before a yawn ripped itself from her.
She was quick to apologize, but he simply waved it off. "Nah, just rest. I'll wake ya up when we get there," he assured her lowly, turning down the music to the point where it was simply background noise. She shook her head with a smile, mumbling a small, "I'll be fine."
~~~
One minute, she was saying that, then the next, she was in her apartment, in her bed. She gasped once she realized what that meant. She fell asleep in a stranger's van. How stupid could she be. She sat up and looked around. He was nowhere to be found, and nothing seemed to be missing or out of place. Hell, she was still in the clothes she was in last night.
She sighed in relief, sliding out from under her covers and letting her legs dangle off the side of the bed.
That's when she noticed a sticky note, sitting on her bedside table. She picked it up and snickered at the chicken scratch before her. Though the more she read, the more she couldn't deny the fluttering feeling growing in her chest.
'You really need better friends. XXX-XXX-XXXX'
Author's note: I hope you did enjoy!!! Pls let me know what you thought!😊
i was never an exhibitionist but that all changed when i read this post like
Exhibitionist!Hobie x Fem!Reader - nsfw, 0.5k
Hobie always thought you were out of this world gorgeous, and he wasn’t afraid to show it. He practically kisses the ground you walked on. Going out of his way to steal you clothing items he spots while he’s out on a walk that he just knows would make you look so gorgeous.
He’s your personal photographer, holding up his phone to his face will you’re sitting down on the couch, his thumb slightly pulling on your lower lip while he cups your chin, “Say cheese angel.”
He especially thought you were pretty whenever you had his cock pumping in and out of you. Missionary, doggy, cowgirl, whatever the fuck position it is Hobie can’t help but drool over the way your lips part so sweetly, his name falling off your lips like a prayer. You always looked so pretty whenever he fucked you. In fact, he thought you were so pretty that he knew he couldn’t just keep it to himself.
He was never an exhibitionist but that all changed when he met you.
Hobie invited his friends over for the day for the usual smoke session. They pass around the blunt with you sitting prettily on your boyfriend’s lap. Once the blunt comes back to Hobie he takes a deep puff while he taps your cheek lightly, grabbing your face in between his fingers while he turns your head around, connecting your lips and pushing the smoke into to your mouth.
After a while when everyone’s having their own conversations, Hobie leans in and presses his lips against your ear, “You’re so pretty angel, makes me wanna do bad things to ya.”
You grin and move to get up but his grip on your hips tighten.
“Nah baby,” He tuts softly, sliding his hand in between your legs, “Let’s do it here.”
Before you even know it Hobie’s pushing your panties aside underneath your skirt, plunging two fingers into your pussy. It all goes by so fast that you’re unable to stop yourself from moaning. The room falls silent and you cover your face in embarrassment while Hobie continues to work on your cunt.
“Hobie..” You whine out softly, turning your head to hide your face in your neck. He still doesn’t stop.
“What’s wrong babe? My mates are just enjoyin’ the show right?”
Now, Hobie has you bent over the coffee table, front and center while you fall apart on his cock. He’s stripped you naked, pulling your head up by your hair because, “Why would you hide your pretty face angel?” “Show them how well ‘m fucking you baby.”
He’s relishing in the way his friends are watching the two of you. Watching how pretty you look begging him to fuck you more. Watching how you tense up and shake, cumming all over his cock, sounding like a broken record.
“Yeah just like that baby,” Hobie groans, grinding his cock into you.
Hobie was never an exhibitionist but that all changed when he met you.
cozy glow fluff
(hobie x pink!reader) — fem prns..?
hobie, the rule breaking, cop hating, spider-punk. he goes around spraypainting walls, or beating some evil villain. that or he’s being told off by miguel for his “disrespectful” behavior. AKA he was telling the truth and miguel doesn’t seem to appreciate honesty as much as hobart does.
maybe people expect him to have a girlfriend just as punk as him. maybe they don’t expect a girlfriend at all.
————
last night had been a long one. he had just gotten home from a mission with gwendy. he had some scrapes and bruises so he was forced to go to the medical center. he hated being told to do things, especially go to the medical center. it was so sterile, so void of life. and could definitely use a new paint job.
he had missed band practice which means having his phone blown up about their upcoming gig and how it was the 4th time that month he’d “skipped” practicing.
as he swung through the city all he could think of was you. all he could think of was the way you smelt like sugar cookies and rainy days. he dodged building after building, soon his eyes focusing on the apartment ahead. only one room illuminated.
only one room with that familiar cozy glow that he came to appreciate oh so much. as he approached the edifice, his eyes trained on the dusty bricks, and the chipping paint of the window sill that he had glued himself against, climbing the side of the structure.
he pryed open the window, a loud creaking noise ensuing. he winced slightly, hoping that if you were sleeping, you hadn’t woken up. he crawled into the kitchen, inhaling at your aroma that snuck its way throughout the flat.
he scanned the space, he saw the muffins you had left on the stove top. he grabbed one as he snuck towards your bedroom. noting the usual decorations as well as some new ones. pictures of him, in a pink frame of course. he ran his fingers over it, reminiscing on the memory, one from a week prior. you had convinced hobie to go to a fair.
the both of you had a wonderful time then, even if he was reluctant to admit it. you accepted this and was proud that he stepped out of his comfort zone while also managing not to steal.
curse you and your sickeningly sweet smile that makes him forget how horrible the system is. don’t worry, he made some ruckus the next day to make up for the loss. as his eyes grew heavy he reached for the handle of your door.
the door opened with a loud moan of the hinges. the list on your fridge of things to fix in your house obviously not helping. glancing at the clock, he read the time. 2 am. he mentally cursed himself for coming to see you that late, but really who could blame him.
most see hobie as a ruffian who only causes uproar and disharmony. but you saw him as much more. he was able to be himself with you. he allowed himself to let you in, to see all his insecurities that weren’t open to the rest of the world.
he glanced back at you, snuggled up in a pink blanket and your hello kitty pajamas. both of which he bought (stole) for you (but he wouldn’t tell you that he actually stole it). the light still shining dimly, he chuckled, knowing you had probably stayed up waiting for him.
he soon discarded the majority of his clothes and climbed into bed next to you. your figure tossing and turning, your breath changing before restoring back to a soft snore. you found it embarrassing that you snore, he found it adorable and made sure to reassure you of that. and also to remind you that insecurity is another way the government divides us so we can’t band together and overthrow it.
reaching over he turned off the light. his black shirt contrasting with the rosy color of your linens. he wraps his arms around you, which you quickly oblige. snuggling closer into his chest.
“love ‘ya doe.” he had begun calling you doe when you first met, it was to point out your innocence which soon became something he treasured most about you. although he did appreciate your tenacity when protesting. you could definitely overthrow one hell of a government all on your own when you were angry.
“mm love you too,” you said sleepily, only mildly drooling on hobie. you fell back asleep as quick as you woke up. he smiled and rested his chin on top your head.
closing his eyes and falling asleep.
—————
okay first fic what do we think? do you want more hobie? or maybe something with miguel??? i have a whole list of ideas but i’d love some more!! pls pls request something you want to see and i’ll add it to the list.
reblogs much appreciated, feel free to message me 🩷
Hobie for real strikes me as someone who doesn’t get jealous. I mean, it would go against his whole thing.
jealousy = possessiveness= thinking that thing or person as your own. To dominate and control.
he maybe he does to a extent, get jealous 😏
(This isn’t a request or anything, more of a brain dumping situation lol)
i agree, when he does get jealous it’s definitely an internal battle for him lol. he’d probably show it off in ways that are more subtle.
like if your talking to a guy he’ll snake his arm around your waist —- stuff like that. later you’d probably be like “is hobie jealous?” teasingly of course and he’d go like
“nah’ bruv was proper daft”
“daft how?”
“doesn’ matter how.”
it’d be a moment of weakness for him, and i think would genuinely make him contemplate things for a little. cause how can he be jealous if it goes against everything he stands for??? mental innit
off topic but the word spider, looks wrong idk
can you do like hobie x reader but miguel is readers father and he finds out that reader is dating hobie
yes. for this though we will have to kind of work around gabriella. we’ll just say she exists and is your older sister || i’m not really sure what ages i should use so i’ll leave that ambiguous.
——
mahogany fluff —- oneshot
(hobie x spanish speaking!reader) —— fem prns
avoidance. a skill you need to learn if you are going to sneak around and evade your parent. especially if that parent is 6’9 and 110% muscle.
————
your origin story with hobie is one that’s messy at best. especially considering the obvious blockade that was your father. him being overprotective and also hobie’s boss are two things that one never wants paired together. yet, love is one thing that can overcome. — i’m just kidding, there wasn’t a powerful we love each other moment, mostly just a lot of laughing.
it was mid july and your father was just as engrossed with work as always. you wanted to spend time together, have fun. he said he would love to but honestly you didnt think it would happen. you began to go to headquarters yourself and drag him from work. like, literally drag him.
this obviously garnered lots of attention, for one, who is this girl yelling at boss? a certain spider also happened to catch wind of the girl. he would join the crowd, laughing, cheering mildly aswell.
“dijiste que vendrías a cenar conmigo y con gabi . ¿y dónde te encuentro? ¡no en la cena! ¡hicimos empanadas, imbécil!”
“¡lo siento, mi princesa! i promise i didn’t mean to miss dinner.”
“yeah well you did, no empanadas for you. we’ll feed them to chester instead.” you say, turning around and walking away. leaving miguel to bask in the shame. you giggled at the thought of your dog getting more empanadas than your own father.
while miguel was busy being questioned about the strange girl who just walked up in here, hobie walks off to go talk to her.
“man you are an ace! that was barmy. who are you?” hobie leads with a compliment, genuinely impressed and a little refreshed at your presence, how not scared you were to yell at miguel. “a new spider recruit?”
you stop, rolling your eyes a little, still fuming at your dad. turning to greet the voice your mood immediately switches. his smooth accent and his sharp features should’ve made you a puddle right there. “n-no i’m not a spider recruit. i’m that pendejo’s daughter.”
“na shot,”
“don’t get your knickers in a twist,” you say mildly mocking his thick cockney.
“how d’you know?”
“i watch a lot television.” a laugh coming from both of you meld together.
“i’m just amazed at how you stood to the boss like tha’,”
“it’s a lot easier when the boss comes home and watches the soaps with you. what’s your name mysterious spider who’s following me home?”
“hobie, hobie brown. you’re a cheeky one, can’t believe you come from ‘im.”
“no, i’m y/n.” he laughs at your stupid joke, making your face heat up.
“i’d be chuffed to hang out with you sometime y/n. maybe visit my earth?”
“papá no me deja ir a diferentes tierras,” you shrug. “says it’s too dangerous.”
hobie nods, pretending he knows what’s you said. “atleast let me get to know you. ya like ackee?”
“mhm,” you say, a little suspicious but also mildly intrigued.
“‘ow bout tomorrow you come ‘ere n i’ll take you to some real jamaican food.”
“alright hobie, i’ll play.” you giggle and continue to your car.
he smiles waving. knowing what he’s getting himself into.
————
sorry no part 2! i’m really sorry to those who are disappointed by this :(
‘Spider’ is the kinda word that makes me respell it just to make sure i wrote it correctly
but ya really can’t blame the bloody brit. Jealousy’s only a natural emotion.
(like lemon sharks. Lemon sharks get jealous when divers they befriend hang with other lemon sharks)
and especially imagine Hobie just resting his head on top of yours, ESPECIALLY if you’re short like my 5’3 ass. Just, Gaifjcgdlh ilovehimtoomuchihateit
i. love. lemon sharks. THEY ARE SO ADORABLE
i’m 5’4 and lowkey i feel like whenever you two are to someone he’ll use your head as an arm rest cause he likes to see you angry . spiderpunk likes seeing you be punk too #canon
Hobie 'doesn't have a phone so he uses his friends, bandmates or a phone booth to call you’ Brown
(You’ve gotten so used to answering unknown numbers, it’s almost concerning)
Hobie 'doesn't know most internet slang as he doesn't believe in social media and will look at you like you've gone mad if you use it’ Brown
Hobie ‘sleeps like a starfish’ Brown
Hobie ‘following you around while you shop and complimenting what you find no matter your style’ Brown
(He would know what looks good anyhow, ((you look ravishing in anything or not to him anyways)) he WAS briefly a runway model)
Hobie ‘constantly making you flustered with the way he’s always so handsy but the moment you touch him back he freezes and has to practically reboot himself’ Brown
Hobie ‘feels like he weighs 800 pounds when he lays or leans against you even though he’s a stick sized 6’5’ Brown
(hands on your shoulders or hand on back or waist)
Hobie ‘has to be touching you in any way at almost all times cause he’s a touchy guy’ Brown
Hobie ‘only got a banged up laptop for his tech’ Brown
And a little spice to end it,
Hobie ‘always calling you riding him “fucking the man”’ Brown
(these are my head cannons of that stupidly lanky brit boy)
(Fun fact to that fun fact about lemon sharks, I’m a dumbass and forgot to mention they do the same to tiger sharks that get close to their diving friends)
Also sorry for the multiple asks from me now /gen
DO NOT STOP WITH THE ASKS AND RHE LEMON SHARKKS.
this is too good !! the phone number one is on point, and i feel like hobie would sleep starfish and be a blanket hog. you’d be like curled up in a ball with a corner of blanket on the edge of the bed by morning.
also i feel like you let hobie dress you up and always at tbhe end he’s like “i knew you were punk”
i feel like whenever hobie sits he’ll have his feet up so like he’ll be sitting with his feet up but slowly lean onto you
that last one was spot on too he totally does that
okay times for my lemon shark facts: lemon sharks are the most researched of all sharks because of their ability to be fine in captivity (although i don’t really agree with it)
lemon sharks have really bad eyesight but also are really good hunters but that may be because their choice in prey are usually fish who are slow lol
my favorite sharks are hammerheads though
mahogany pt.2? :(
mahogany pt 2!!!
i still have to get that miguel fic out but i promise mahogany 2 is coming 🤞
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 x OC! Came out fine I think, not totally in love w it but I like it :3
If you like it, it’s based on @the-kr8tor’s series (Between the Devil and the Sea) which I’ve been procrastinating on reading for weeks lol
I think my next fic will be out somewhere near early May? Idk though, it’s midterms season and everyone’s super busy, plus drawing’s easier than writing rn
I’ve been working on this thing for months now and now I finally have closureeee