Octobie'24 - Tumblr Posts

FIRST OCTOBIE FIC WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

I'm SO excited for this month I'm almost done with my first octobie drawing tehee

Layover

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: A trip home brings something unexpected. A second chance perhaps?

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothes), cw food mentions, cw suggestive, ex! Hobie, second chance love, lovestruck! Hobie, Fluff.

A/N: Happy octobie!!

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Octobie 🎸

Buy me a ☕?

When you ran through the airport while clutching your luggage you expected disgruntled passengers from all walks of life. And when you reached the counter expecting to be checked in like usual, you didn't anticipate for your flight to be delayed because of the snow storm raging outside. You just thought that the plane could handle it, you were very wrong. With the bottoms of your jeans drenched from wading through skin biting snow, and with your luggage checked in without having the foresight to grab a pair of fresh pants beforehand; you stand in line for the complementary cup of tea that probably tastes like sink water.

Everything has gone off the rails that you started to anticipate anything, from the earth swallowing you whole to a flock of birds suddenly entering the airport and attacking and pecking at your head— but never in a million years you’d see your ex standing in the middle of the rushing crowd looking disheveled but still as handsome as ever.

“Oh,” your breath gets stuck in your throat as the bright fluorescent lights above dim in your vision, and spotlights replace it— pointing directly at him while the crowd parts for him.

In slow motion, he turns his head and you see the recognition in his eyes just as he locks eyes with you through the haze of brief unfamiliarity. His lips curl into a smirk just like how you remembered it. His piercings glow as if the sun has come out just for him, melting the ice and snow outside. His hazel eyes roam over your discombobulated expression, you must look like a fish out of water right now.

“Miss?” The vendor’s voice behind you wakes you up from your foggy thoughts. “Your order?”

“Uh…” turning around, you try to gather your words, but it seems that Hobie has taken it all from your lips. “I—”

“Earl grey, two sugars and a splash of milk.” His voice sounds close, ever closer as he sidles up next to you. When you gaze upon him, he's already looking at you with those eyes you loved. Still love. “Did I get it right?”

“Fucking hell.” You murmur, and his smile grows wider.

“Yeah, she still drinks it.” He nudges your shoulder, and you're frozen on the spot. You don't care enough to notice the barista making your drink lightning quick. “I'll take the same thing, no milk.”

“S-still lactose intolerant?” You try to sound confident even though you can feel his warmth through his jacket, it still has the same patches you lovingly sewn on it.

“I don't think they found a cure for that yet.”

“Yeah, I don't think so too.” You say in a small voice, basking in his presence. As if you two didn't amicably break up two years ago, as if you still don't long for him— or don't love him anymore. Well, you still do, but you're trying (and failing) very hard to convince him and yourself otherwise.

He grabs both of your drinks effortlessly in one hand, while the other takes you by your sleeve to pull you aside so that other people could order. Once you're parked into a corner and leaning on a pillar, (all the while not straying your eyes away from him) he gives you your drink, ringed fingers grazing your own.

“Hi, Hobie.” You finally smile, eyes twinkling from the bright lights.

“Hello, love.” His voice is low enough for you to hear, but not loud enough for other people to hear how lovestruck he is.

Your eyes are practically ogling him, he's in plaid, a long sleeve button down that you remember buying for him on a whim. Under the long sleeve is his old band shirt, the same one that you painstakingly silk printed with him and his band for hours in his houseboat. His leather jacket looks the same, save for a few new patches and stitches he mended, it practically didn't change in those two years.

He still wears all the things that remind him of you.

“You look good,” good is an understatement. He looks fucking fantastic. His hair is much longer now, and his skin still lacks worry lines as if he didn't age. There are a few more piercings than you remember, but the most glaring one is the one on his lip. It shines whenever he turns his head, and you wonder how many new piercings he may be hiding. “I see you still haven't thrown out that shirt.”

Hobie looks down, chuckling when he remembers what he's wearing. “You made this one.”

You scrunch up your nose that fades into fondness despite your thudding heart. The image of you and him sitting on the floor of his houseboat while eating take out makes you miss that life. It would be nice to hug him before bed, to tend to his wounds, to kiss him every time he goes out. To just be with him— you miss that life.

You've forgotten to take a sip from your cup, so you do to act normal. The drink warms you up just right, but with your eagerness to look somewhat normal in front of your ex, you choke on your tea.

“Oh shit,” Hobie, without thinking, like it's the most natural thing ever and still acting on instinct, pats your back. “You alright?” He chuckles at the ridiculous situation. He never thought flying back home from a gig would cause a chain reaction of him holding you again in a crowded airport. He smiles at the thought.

“You're laughing!” You cough out. All your stiffness fades away once you hear his laugh, you missed it so much. You missed him. “I'm choking here and you're laughing.” You have tears in your eyes, whether that's from choking on nothing or it's because of your longing. Either way, you must look horrible.

His palm continues to pat, and his smile never wavered, completely endeared by you. Completely in awe of you just by standing in front of him. He missed you.

“‘m not laughin’” You give him a stern look, cheeks practically in flames. “‘m not!” He briefly takes his hand off of you to grab at his water bottle peeking in between his bag zipper that's filled with numerous stickers. “‘ere, drink.”

You take the bottle from his hand as you continue to cough. He opens the lid for you before you could wheeze, and you down it immediately. Again, you've completely forgotten about your *own drink in your other hand.

“There,” he tamps down his chuckles as he sees water dribble from your chin. “Better?”

You groan, coughing out a few more times before you hand the bottle back to him. The fact that it once touched his lips flew over your head, but once the bottle was back in his hand, it hits you like a snowplow. Your stomach flips, and you panic, drinking from your hot tea again.

“Fuckin' hell, careful.” He chortles at your side eye. “Alright, choke on it, 'm ‘ere for a reason.”

You stop drinking, back leaning on the pillar, chest heaving. “Why are you here? You don't like flying.”

“I had to this time.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“What are you, airport security?” He jokes, shoulder leaning on the wall beside him, leg crossed over the other casually. That does things to you, making your palms sweaty. “Business actually, we had a gig ‘ere in Cardiff.”

You grin, “the band's here?”

“Nah, those lucky bastards took the earlier flight.” He says as he looks over to where he was standing before he walked over to you.

You furrow your brows, “oh, you're with someone?” Your heart deflated right in your chest. Is it wrong for you to feel this way when it's been two years since you last kissed him?

A ghost of a smirk briefly appears on his lips. “Nah, just me. I took a later flight so I could visit some places. Be a fuckin' tourist for once y’know?”

Your heart inflates back to life again. “That's nice, it's not everyday you get to actually fly and conquer your fears.”

He chuckles, “I wasn't that afraid.”

“You didn't want to go on that Germany trip with me because of it.” His smile wavers, and something passes by behind his eyes.

“Sorry.” You did not expect that. Today is just full of surprises isn't it? “You know I couldn't—”

“I know, Hobie.” You grab his arm without thinking, palm cradling his elbow. You give him enough time to move away, but he doesn't. “I know what I was getting into by dating a vigilante.” You whisper the last word.

“That was before anyway, now I have someone lookin' over the city while ‘m gone.” He softly smiles, eyes darting from your eyes down to your lips briefly. “‘m still grateful for you puttin’ up with my shit.”

“I think I deserve a medal for it actually.” You joke, moving to poke his side oh so casually.

“I don't know if they sell that in the shops ‘ere.”

You chortle, “you'd get me one?”

“Shit, I'd have it engraved with your name and everythin’”

The two of you continue to giggle and indulge in each other's presence. The PA system continues to echo out in the background, hundreds of shoes squeaking on the linoleum floors, and children busying themselves with their gameboys beeping above the murmured conversations of their parents. Every sound is muffled, his laugh is the only thing that you can hear, and his face is the only thing you could see under the harsh lights.

It's just you and him in the crowded place.

“Let's sit down, yeah? Our planes ain't goin’ anywhere.” He pats your shoulder, palm lingering for only a moment. Since the entire airport is packed with stranded passengers, all the seats are taken no matter how uncomfortable it is. Looking around, he bites the bottom of his lip when he doesn't see any benches or chairs left.

Your heart feels like escaping from your chest. “We can sit over there, near the window.” You point with your chin at a space big enough for the two of you.

“Good eye.” Hobie gives you his drink, and you furrow your brow in question until he bends his knees to grab your luggage and his bag. “C’mon then.”

With a small smile, you follow behind him as he carries the bags effortlessly. After weaving through the crowd, you two finally make it to the large window that displays the tarmac where planes are waiting around in the plush snow.

He sets your bag next to his own in the corner, sitting down on the carpet that is probably older than the two of you combined. Patting his side, you chuckle, cheeks warm but you still sit beside him. You're so close to him that your knees kiss his own, and you're only a hair width away from his lips when you turn to look at him.

His lips part, and you see his Adam's apple bop up and down as he swallows thickly. Your eyes glance at his lips, and you quickly look away, moving to the side even though there's not much space between you and the wall beside you.

Hobie clears his throat, smile hidden as he casually turns his head away from you. “Why are you ‘ere then?”

“Business.” You hand him his warm drink, and again, your fingers brush along his own. This time, you let your touch linger upon his own for a brief second more.

“I thought you're out ‘ere to wade through the snow.” He takes a sip from his cup, eyes flicking down towards the bottoms of your jeans where it's darker and wet from the snow.

“What?” You look down, and you immediately want to slap yourself for the blunder. “I-I forgot to grab a pair of pants before I checked in my luggage. I–it's very silly of me.”

Hobie chuckles lowly, finger absentmindedly playing with the cardboard cup sleeve. After two years, he can't believe you still have the ability to fluster him. “Tell you what, borrow my trousers, you could get sick from the cold.”

“I'm fine, Hobie. Besides, my flight's about to begin boarding any minute now.” A second after you said it, the PA system announces that your flight is delayed. Again.

Hobie laughs, “comedic timing. Just take my trouser, love.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, laughing with him a moment later once you've recovered. You decide to tease him. “I hope you don't mean the one you're wearing right now.”

Smirking, Hobie leans closer to you, whispering in your ear. “Even though we're at an airport, that won't count as bein’ in the mile high club, lovie.”

Maybe your flight getting canceled isn't so bad after all.

“Damn, I thought it would count!”

Hobie moves away, grinning from ear to ear. “Just take my bloody trousers. I don't want a repeat of that one winter we had back home.”

“That was one time, I learned my lesson. And fine, I'll wear your pants, I've worn worse.”

“Rude.” He says with a soft smile, “it's in my bag, the biggest zipper.”

You gesture towards the bags next to you, “You want me to rummage through your things?”

“Why not? You've already seen my knickers. And me in just my knickers.”

“That's not it, Hobie.” You say like you're winded after getting the image of him in that one pair of knickers in your mind. Thanks, Hobie.

“Too much crossin’ the boundaries then? Hand it to me.” He doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable, the same reason why you had to ask him if he's sure about you rummaging through his things. You don't want him to feel uncomfortable too.

“Kind of, I'll be wearing your pants anyway so we crossed that boundary a few minutes ago.”

“What is it then?” He knits his brows, concern etched on his expression.

“It's just that— it's your stuff, maybe there's something in there that you don't want me to see.”

“Love,” he says softly, “you've seen everythin' there is to see. Nothin' changed much, ‘m not carryin’ somethin' that will make me embarrassed.” When you still don't look too sure, he twists in his seat to loom over you, you get a full display of his chest as he pulls at his bag to put it over your lap. He smells just like how you remembered. For a second there your heart stopped at the sight of him above you. “Go rummage through my shit, yeah?”

You bite your lip with a shake of your head. “I will scream if I hear something vibrating.”

Hobie's booming laughter echoes throughout the airport, rising above the PA system.

Grinning, you open the bag, there's a few shirts on top that you recognize, and a couple of jeans. But when you see something red and blue with the familiar spider logo, you clamp the zipper shut.

“You brought your suit?” You look at him, bewildered.

“Why not? You never know when a mutant lizard would appear.” He takes a swig from his cooling tea, acting nonchalant but clearly amused by your reaction.

“What if security sees it?” You whisper.

He copies your tone. “They did.” Your eyes widen. “They thought it was a costume, love.” Winking, he smiles teasingly at you.

“That makes a lot of sense actually.”

—

You look at yourself in the murky airport bathroom mirror, hands tying the strings on Hobie's pants. Its red checkered pattern catches the eye, and its soft material reminds you of his pajamas. It might be his pajamas actually. You remember all the cold nights in the houseboat cuddled next to him, with the boat rocking softly as you whisper about your day in his ear. You wish you were there right now.

You push open the creaking door, and you see Hobie waiting for you, standing nonchalantly on a pillar with yours and his bag strewn near his feet. Once he hears the door, his head perks up, and a smile appears when he sees you in his clothes.

“Lookin' bloody fit, eh?”

“Stop, I'm already embarrassed enough. I feel like a kid in kindergarten who just had an accident.”

“Well, did you?”

You make a face at him. “No, the hell?”

Hobie shrugs, “I won't judge you if you did.”

You push him lightly, palm pressed on his chest, making him laugh. “Shut up.” Looking over the space you and Hobie were sitting at, you find that it's already occupied. “We lost our seats.”

Hobie follows your gaze. “That's alright, I heard a few blokes talkin' ‘bout rentin’ a car. We could try our luck there.”

“Impromptu road trip?”

“D’you want to stay ‘ere till tomorrow?”

“No,” you sigh, “let's go.”

Hobie takes each of your bags and his own while making sure he walks in the same pace as you so he doesn't go further away and lose you in the crowd. You don't argue about carrying your own bags since you know you'll lose and he'll charm you with that smile you love. It's better not to faint in the middle of a packed airport.

You're arm to arm with him, and your instincts tell you to hold on to his arm like you used to do. You wish you could still do it, just hold him lest he gets lost in the crowd or go further away from you. He doesn't, he won't, and you know that despite the two year gap of being away from him.

You have a lot of things to tell him, and he has a lot of thoughts about you. For now, he walks close to you, wishing, hoping that the divide between the two of you will crumble the moment you hold onto him like how he remembers.

A passenger bumps into you, and you collide on Hobie's side with a quiet yelp.

He reaches for you, thumb pressing on the small of your back in an attempt to keep your balance without dropping the bags. “You alright? What a wanker.”

You gaze at him through your lashes, eyes roaming around his concerned face. “I'm okay.” He looks marvelous basking under the light.

“You sure? You look a bit peckish, love.” He guides you towards the nearest food stall, all the while avoiding people from colliding into you.

You can't tell him that you're suddenly clammy because you're absolutely awestruck and still very much in love with him. So you lie. “I can't get anything past your senses, huh?”

He chuckles, trying to ignore your quickening heartbeat in his ears. “You want a sandwich?”

You give him a lopsided smile as he drops you off to the side of the sandwich stall. “Sure, Hobie.”

“What kind?” He leaves the bags near your feet, a smile never leaving his pierced lips. “The usual?”

“You still remember that?”

“I remembered your tea order, of course I remember your usual.” He casually says, hand hidden in his pockets, hoping that you can't sense his sudden bashfulness.

“It's not aunt Janet's chippy but it'll do.” You grin as the memory of you two having afternoon dates at your local chip shop passes by your mind.

“Don't tempt me, or I'll start swingin’ in this storm to get us some.”

“That's physically impossible, Hobie.” You unconsciously mirror his movements.

“Yeah, if you're not Spider-Man.” He shrugs with a smug look as he walks backwards to order your snack.

He'll be the death of me one day. You think as your eyes never leave his form.

—

You finish your sandwich right on time when Hobie comes back from the car rental counter. His annoyed expression tells you that it did not go well.

“What happened?” You swallow, throwing away the paper packaging at a trash can. Hobie leans on the glass wall right next to you, hands in his pockets. You narrow your eyes at his suspicions posture, “you're fucking with me aren't you? You have the keys in your pockets, right?” He tilts his head towards you with a tight-lipped smile. Your teasing grin falters. “Right?”

“Nah, not this time, love. Sorry.”

You sigh, wincing, hope snuffed out. “Really?” He nods, you really hoped that you would get to go on a road trip with him again. “Damn, I thought you were joking.”

“They're not lettin’ any cars out because of the ice. Slippery road and all that.” He huffs, and then flicks his eyes at you. “How was the sandwich?”

“Pretty okay,” you turn your head to him, body drifting closer. The window is cold under your head. “The bread should've been toasted better though.” Rummaging through your pockets, you find your wallet to pay him back. “How much do I owe you?”

“A hundred quid.” He chuckles at his own joke.

“Fuck off.” You scoff out with a giggle.

He finds your laughter contagious, grinning he shakes his head. “Nah, it wasn't much, keep it.”

“I gotta pay you back, Hobie.” You insist.

“You already did with the tea, love.”

You laugh some more. “That one was free!”

The PA system interrupts and calls on your flight again, and as you predicted, it's delayed. You barely notice the announcement with him looking at you softly.

“Everythin’ is free if you think ‘bout it.” He pokes your bicep playfully as you roll your eyes with a grin. “I think that was your flight, lovie.”

“Yeah, I expected it this time— wait, when's your flight? Did they announce it already?”

“It's cancelled,” he says casually. “Is it that bad though? I got to see you because of it.” His tone is tender, with a hint of apprehension under his voice.

“Too bad on the impromptu road trip though.” You scooch closer to him. In the busy airport where every person rushes in and out, you and Hobie are in your own world where it's just you and him. “I would've loved to stop by the chip shop with you.”

“We could still do that,” Hobie whispers, eyes downturned as he wraps his pinky around your own. He gives you space to move away or flinch, but you don't. Instead, in a twist of events, you pull him closer with just your pinky, toe to toe with him, holding him just like how he remembered. “I'll take that as a yes then?”

“Ask me,” your free hand rises to his chest, palm right on his heart, feeling how his heartbeat hastens. You lock eyes with him, smiling gently as you see his pupils dilate with just you in his vision. “Please ask me.”

“I saw you a few minutes before we met at the tea stand. And I followed you like a bloody creep thinkin’ that I was hallucinatin’ or some shit—” you stop his rambling with your hand cupping his cheek. He leans against your touch, eyes closing for a moment. Your heart leaped in your chest when he did. “Breakin’ up was a bad idea.” He says as he opens his eyes, hand holding the back of yours, feeling his calloused hand around your own. “Go to Janet's chippy with me, we'll get your usual. And I'll get mine and I'll give you the first bite like always.”

“Like our first real date.” You almost couldn't get the words out with the lump in your throat.

Hobie nods with a lopsided smile, eyes glimmering in the light. “Say yes, please.”

“Yes.” Your lips wobble. “And you're fucking right, breaking up was a very bad and stupid idea on our part.” A tear escapes that he promptly wipes away carefully.

Hobie exhales like it's the first time he lets go of a breath. His forehead meets yours, and you hold him, giggling, pecking the tip of his nose.

“I missed that.” He leans away, cradling your face in his hands. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you too, you have no idea.”

“I have a faint idea.”

You chortle, eyes tearing up again. “You wanna argue who missed who the most?”

“Anythin' to hear you talk, love.” As he tilts his head to kiss you, he inhales and brushes his lips on yours. He feels complete.

Before you could seal the deal, the PA system echoed again. This time though, they announce that your flight is canceled. You hear simultaneous groans across the airport, except from you and Hobie.

You laugh against his lips, making him chuckle. Leaving a chaste kiss before moving away, you silently promise to give him a proper one once you and Hobie are out of the rushing crowd.

Moving away, you kiss his knuckles as you take his bag away. He understands the memo, carrying your luggage as you continue to walk away.

“Where are you goin'? We can't rent a car to drive back home.” Hobie calls after you, matching your pace almost immediately.

“I booked a hotel just in case something like this happens.” You swear you heard his breath hitch in his throat.

“Just like this?” He points to himself with a knowing smile.

“You know what I mean, Hobie.” You say with a lilt in your tone. “Either you sleep in a cot and wake up with an aching back, or you sleep in the same room with me.” You flick your eyes at Hobie, who's absolutely dumbstruck, that's quickly replaced with a huge grin, his eyes crinkle at the corners as you nudge him playfully.

“I prefer sleepin’ in the same bed with you if you'd ask me to.” He switches your bag on his other hand, carrying it all in one hand effortlessly so he could reach for your hand.

“Well, this is me asking.” You squeeze his hand thrice, walking towards the airport's hotel with a skip in your step. You're glad that your flight was canceled.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banner by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

First octobie drawing done! More messy than I would’ve liked but oh well

Banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

Check out the octobie event by @the-kr8tor

My Love (Adorn You)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Spider-Punk x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Tags: Cursing, sleepy times, clingy hobie, touchy hobie, no physical description of reader, can be read as any gender for reader (just cuddly feel good times), title based off of Adorn by Miguel (wrote this listening to it, ngl)

Summary: It's been a while since you've gotten a whole weekend off and Hobie's particularly clingy this morning. Also, screw your job.

A/N: Credit to @mushroom-graphics-allotment for the lovely banners! My shorter second piece for the 1st week of Octobie!!! I'm having a blast coming up with more one-shots @the-kr8tor 💕

Light from the rising sun gently peeks through the curtains and spills into the bedroom, hitting your face and stirring you awake. You slowly blink away the sleep from your eyes, eyelashes fluttering as you stir ever slightly in your boyfriend's arms. Hobie's soft snores slowly cease, eyebrows furrowing and eyes cracking open ever so slightly. He looks at you before glancing at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside him, grumbling and pulling you closer to him once he sees the time.

“Too early… Sleep more, lovie,” he mumbles softly, breath tickling the shell of your ear. You let out a sleepy hum as you bring up a hand to softly scratch at the coarse hair just above the nape of his neck. Hobie lets out a pleased, sleepy sounding purr before burying his face into your neck, one of his hands splayed over your back while the other gently grips your hip. He pulls you closer against his frame as he drifts back off to sleep, the warmth you radiate welcoming on this chilly morning.

You almost let the peacefulness of it all lull you back to sleep, until the sudden thought of your job makes you sit up abruptly. Hobie groans when you do, hands trying to pull you back down to his embrace.

“No, Hobes. Gotta get to work,” You say with a tired sigh. Hobie sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, face tucked into your shoulder. His lips press sleepy kisses along your skin as he tugs you closer.

“It's Saturday, baby. You're off, remember?” Your boyfriend's quiet mumbles make you lean against him, silently thanking whatever entity is out there that you're off. You weren't sure you'd even be able to make it in today anyways, with how exhausted you feel. You allow Hobie to pull you back down onto the bed, burying your face into his chest as you two bask in the warmth of one another. Sleep welcomes you both with open arms, the two of you not stirring awake again until it's almost noon.

When you do wake up again, you try to get up from the bed, eager to start on the plethora of chores that you know are waiting for you. Your boyfriend seems to have other plans, however. With a disapproving sound, he pulls you back down to lay beside him, face nuzzling against your own. A huff of mild annoyance leaves you as he peppers kisses along your jaw, a knowing smile on his lips all the while.

“You ain't goin’ nowhere, sweetheart. It's been days since I've had you all to myself.” His words make you slightly less irritated with him, eyes softening as you turn your head to look at him properly. It's true that you've been too busy lately. Your job didn't understand the fact that you're a human being with needs, clearly, always making you do doubles and working you over time. Without the over time pay. One of your hands moves up to gently fiddle with his multiple ear piercings, fingers brushing over the silver jewelry. You smile as he leans into your touch

“I know. ‘M sorry for being so busy, Hobie. Work has just been… ugh.”

“Love, I mean this in the most disrespectful way possible. Fuck your job. You should just quit.” You look at the man with a raised eyebrow, as if his suggestion was out of the question. Of course you'd thought about quitting before, but you had concerns about just leaving the job you'd had for over two years.

“Quit? Not saying I don't want to, but where else will I find that pays as much?” Hobie hums softly in your ear before pushing up on one elbow in order to look down at you.

“You need a change of pace. Quit and start up that business you've always wanted to.” He leans down to smooch the little pout off of your face, chuckling when you chase after his lips. “I've got your back, always. I'll help support you however you need.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest at his words, his offer to support you making you more in love with him than you ever thought possible. Smiling softly, you lift up a hand to gently trace the curves of his jaw, fingers lightly brushing over his cheeks. Hobie looks down at you all the while, seemingly lovestruck as he leans further into your touch. A dopey grin on his face, he leans down to brush his lips against yours with all the tenderness of a feather, his piercing cool against your skin.

“Quit f’me, lovie,” he breathes out, voice a low whisper. A soft snort leaves you and you playfully press your hand on his face, practically mushing him.

“ You're a bad influence, Hobie Brown. You just want me to quit so you can have me like this everyday.”

He grins and licks a fat stripe up your palm, making you squeal and recoil your hand in disgust. A laugh leaves him as you swiftly wipe your hand free of saliva on his arm. “I'm not denying it, am I?” He says with a cheeky gleam in his eyes.

It makes you roll your eyes, a reluctant smile ghosting your lips as he presses more kisses into the crook of your neck. After a few moments of comfortable silence between you, you try to get up once more, pushing your body off of the bed. Hobie has other ideas, it seems, tightening his arms around your waist and relaxing his entire weight on top of you. You groan and push at his shoulders, pouting at the chorus of little snickers that leave him.

“Planning to keep me hostage all day, Hobart…? We've got chores.”

“Sweetheart, fuck those chores. You're my teddy for the day, mm? I'll even order us some food, just so you won't get outta bed. Now just be good f’me and let me love you.”

You let out a long, exasperated sigh at his words, snuggling closer to him despite yourself. It's safe to say that not a lick of chores had gotten done that day.

Cater To You

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Spider-Punk x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Tags: no physical description of reader, implied! jokes, ogling (unashamedly too), cooking, tired Hobie (Title from Cater 2 U by Destiny's Child), massage, Cursing, reader is AFAB

Summary: Hobie's had a rough week. Knowing this, you decide to take care of him for the night.

A/N: Credit to @mushroom-graphics-allotment for the lovely banners! First week of Octobie, @the-kr8tor !!! Let's go!!!

              Humming along to the music playing from your little speaker, you sway your hips as you shuffle around the kitchen. You lift a spoon to your lips, tasting the broth of the stew on the stove before adding a bit more salt and garlic powder. Now, satisfied with how it tastes, you glance over at the clock on the wall. It was nearing the time for your boyfriend to come home, having asked him to come back early tonight.

             “You plannin’ something, lovie?” He'd asked earlier that day as he shrugged on his vest, his slight wince not going unnoticed by you. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him for it, but he just made a dismissive sound, as per usual.

             “I'm making dinner tonight. And I just wanna spend time with you. Is that so bad, Hobes?” You'd said to him with a loving smile, hiding your true intentions for the night. Hobie had given you a look of suspicion before rolling his eyes playfully, agreeing to be back no later than six.

             This night had been planned in your mind for a while. You'd only decided to act on it when Hobie had come through the window earlier in the week, bruised and battered from a recent fight. He had just smiled and held you close as you pestered and pestered, begging him to let you fret over him, to care for him. But of course, Hobie hadn't let you, reassuring you over and over how he'd be fine in a matter of hours, never one to be down for long. And he was right. The next day, he'd been up and about again, his duties as Spider-Man ever calling. 

              For the last few days, Hobie has come back beaten and exhausted, weariness making a name for itself on his shoulders every night as he slumped into the bed. And for as much as he allowed himself to dote and worry about you, he absolutely refrained you from doing the same for him. Words like “Nothin’ to worry ‘bout, baby” and “Just being with you like this is all I need” are the chorus that greets you every time you try to soothe his pain. You like to chalk it up to the savior complex that you're most certain he has, even if he'd make a whole show of his disagreement if you ever told him as much.

                “He's not getting away from me this time”, you mumble to yourself with a determined huff, turning the faucet of the bathtub off. It was his turn to be taken care of, especially with the week he had. You were going to make sure of it. The sound of the front door opening has you perking up and quickly finishing with adding the essential oils to the warm bath water, mixing in the epsom salt as well before getting out of the bathroom. Grin on your face and eagerness shining in your eyes, you walk towards the living room to greet your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace once you near him. Hobie raises an eyebrow at the look on your face before smiling, leaning down to press a kiss on your forehead, his lip piercing cool against your skin.

                 “Missed you too, lovie”, he chuckles softly, his voice soft as he wraps you in his arms. Just being in the warmth of his embrace is enough for you to wish you could stay like this for eternity. Fingers brushing lightly on his lower back and moving towards his waist, your eyes shoot open at his little hiss of pain. Quickly moving back, you clear your throat and gesture towards the kitchen, sticking to the plan for the night.

                “Dinner is ready and I've already drawn you a bath. Which one do you want first?”

               “You drew me a bath..? ‘M starting to think there's more to just you wantin’ to spend time with me, love.” Hobie says with a knowing smirk, eyebrow raised as he pulls you close once more, fingers idly hooking onto your belt loops. Smiling at how touchy he's being right now, you lean up to press a small kiss to his chin before gently patting his chest.

               “Correct. You've had it bad this week, don't even deny it. I'm taking care of you tonight and there's nothing you can do to stop me. Now, bath or dinner first? If you choose bath, there's a surprise right after it.” The last words being said in a singsong tune, you back away from him and look up at him expectantly. Hobie let's out a sigh at the determined gleam in your eyes, knowing full well how stubborn you can be when you set your mind on something. Besides, he really was much too tired to even try to dissuade you. Shrugging off his vest and draping it over his shoulder, he nods his head in the direction of the bathroom.

              “Suppose I'll go and take that bath, then. What's the surprise when I get out?”

             “You'll just have to see. I've already got a change of clothes for you on the sink”, you say with a pleased hum, watching as he makes his way towards the bathroom. “Oh! Make sure you leave your shirt off when you come into the bedroom!” Is what you call after him, making Hobie let out a playful scoff.

              “Yes ma’am”, he snickers with a small salute, disappearing into the bathroom. While he bathes, you rush to the bedroom and settle on the bed, gathering your lotions and massage oils. You play some soft music on your speaker and dim the lights, humming along to the music as you wait for him to finish. Hobie shuffles into the room a few moments later, towel wrapped around his neck and gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Your eyes linger for a few moments, appreciating the view greatly, only to glare up at your chuckling boyfriend.

            “Like what you see, hm? If you wanted to see me naked, you could've just asked”, Hobie hums out lowly, a knowing smile on his lips as he saunters over to you. Even in the dim light, you can see how tired he is, shoulders slumped and eyelids low with barely contained exhaustion. The bath, however, seems to have given him a little more pep though, Hobie's complexion looking a little bit brighter than before. It makes you smile, knowing he was at least a little relaxed now. 

             “Eh… Maybe later," you say with an amused chuckle, standing up and placing your hands on his shoulders. “On the bed, big man. Your surprise today is a massage from yours truly.” With a cheeky grin, you use your hands on his shoulders to turn him around before pushing him on the bed face first. Hobie lets out a small oof as he lands on the mattress, turning his head around to give you a playful glare.

             “Rude. What kinda masseuse are you, huh? Treatin’ your patient like this…” The man shakes his head in mock disappointment all while getting himself more comfortable on the bed, tucking his arms underneath the pillow beneath his head. “Have half a mind to report you to corporate…”

             “Oh, I'm so sorry, good sir. Forgive me for my earlier behavior, it'll never happen again”, you say with sarcastic enthusiasm as you lather a good amount of lavender body oil between your hands, warming it up. You carefully move to straddle his legs, knees on either side of his hips. “Let me know if it hurts, okay?” Is what you whisper in his ear as you gently place your hands on the back of his neck, fingers softly kneading at the tougher bundles of nerves there.

                 Hobie lets out a soft hum as you begin your work, body slowly relaxing with each stroke of your hands. His eyes flutter shut as you knead at his shoulders, your eyes watching his every reaction as you carefully press your fingers lower towards his back. As you knead at his upper back, you can feel the tense knot of nerves beneath his skin, making you frown a bit. Placing both hands onto his upper back, you take a deep breath and push down firmly. A loud popping crack is heard from the simple action, Hobie letting out a low groan as his body slumps down further into the mattress.

               “Fuckin’ hell…”, he breathes out as you chuckle softly, hands sliding further down his back and fingers pressing into the little divots. Your boyfriend is practically putty in your hands as your palms work to loosen the kinks in his lower back, soft sighs and little purrs of satisfaction leaving his lips. Fingers avoiding the small bruises on his waist, you gently run your knuckles just above the waistband of his sweatpants before quickly applying pressure. Another loud pop sounds out, Hobie burying his face into the pillows as sounds of utter relief leave him.

                “The hell you learn this from…? ‘S too good, lovie…”, he mumbles softly, voice practically purring. It makes you smile, pleased with yourself for having made your boyfriend this relaxed. You lean down to pepper his shoulder with sweet kisses before moving your hands up right to the middle of his back. Using your thumbs, you apply a bit more pressure, Hobie melting into the sheets. The massage goes on for a few more minutes and you watch as his breathing slowly evens out, body losing all tension and his small movements ceasing. 

             “Too tired to even eat, huh? What am I gonna do with you…?” You sigh as you lean back a bit to properly look at him. A huff leaves you as you listen to Hobie's soft snores, sleep having welcomed him with open arms. Using the towel next to his pillow, you wiped off any excess oil and placed another kiss on his cheek.

           “Goodnight, Hobie”, you whisper softly with a smile, sliding off the bed and standing up. You drape the blankets over him and leave the room to put the food away. You were glad that you had gotten the chance to properly care for him for once. And if the kisses and praise Hobie rained on you the next morning were anything to go by, so was he.

Octobie Content [Comfort week]

Pairing - Hobie Brown x fem reader

comfort, au, fluff, short drabble

Imagine there is the very concept of life materialized in a human form, and so is death.

They were living among humans during the dark ages, and one day Life suddenly reveals something humanly trivia of himself while Death is enjoying her little human tricks and things on the pouch table on the sunny side. “By the way, my name is Hobart now,” he says, like it’s just an everyday event. “Hobart Brown, or Hobie, as they call me ‘round the town. Been wanting to tell you about this.” “You- WHAT!!?” Shocked Death yells at him from knitting, a confused frown apparent on her face. “Out of all names available, you chose… HOBERT!?” “Not Hobert,” He gasps like he’s offended to be called such a ridiculous name, though his expression changes to an amused one soon after. “It’s Hobart, but you can call me Hobie as the mortals do-” “It’s still equally bad,” she groans. “Also, you can’t be named something just because people called you something. You’re ‘Life’.” “Yes, I very much can, my sweet sweet, gloomy Death,” He argues back, his wood cutting pace still not getting low despite the conversation and scattered concentration. “Also, it’s a gift of endearment, them feeling thankful for my help and all. I think it is… lovely.” “No, you cannot.” Death muses with an eye roll. “The dying kids call me ‘Angel’ as well, but I did not become one. Like, even if I just said that ‘we are a married couple now’, it didn’t come true right? Because just a few spoken words cannot break the very law of-” “Yes, we are.” He speaks up before she can finish. “We’re husband and wife now.” With a mischievous grin, he walks up to her knitting table, throwing away the task on hand. “What?” Her head peaks up from the incomplete scarf with confusion, laughing at him walking up to her like he’s up to something mischievous in his cheeky little plans. “Life, what are you-” “Hush now, dear,” he says and leaves a light peck on her forehead as he cages her down with his many arms made of celestial dust, something she’s used to now. “We both know we’re meant to be a pair.” “A pair to keep the world in harmony, not a pair in bed.” “We both know it’s just a bullshit rule, my point still stands, and you know we already are both despite that, lovie~” A laugh bellows from her chest and gives into his arms that’s caging her, embracing in each other’s warmth and cold. “Oh, yes. Fine,” she groans with softly muffled chuckles. “But you know damn well that we weren’t supposed to be.” He hums in disapproval, begrudgingly taking the soft kisses she’s landing on his cold, sweaty cheeks in hopes that he’d be a little less grumpy. “Oh, how lively you are, my dear. You make my already hard job far far worse, you know that?” She asks with mumbled murmurs from his arms that squishing and relishing their partner with both love and protection. “You know too well that your existence is why I’m treasured by mortals all across the realms so, stop speaking like otherwise.” He warns her and gives her another warning peck before picking his dear Death across his shoulder.  “Or you’ll be smothered in my lively smooching session in bed all day and night till everyone turns immortal.” “No, you can’t!?” She squeals back in soft whimpers, words slurred from being held upside down. Trying to wiggle away from his grip but meets with another; “Yes, I can. And yes, I will. So, hush now. It’s time to rest your human body.” “Wait, I have so many things left to finish! Hobie, my scarf!” Though the dear Death protests and pleads to Life with many heartfelt giggles, he remains stern still on his stand, lecturing her of how fragile mortal bodies are and that they need thorough care as he wraps her tight in a blanket before joining her in the bed, no matter her muffled murmurs of how she already knows it. Also about how costy medicare would be if they would ever need a healer. “We can just heal ourselves, dear. This body is a mere made-pretend.” She argues back with a huff and suppressed laughter. “Shhh,” he hushes her again by feeding sliced berries. “It doesn’t change that the nearest village’s healer is still expensive.” “Hey, I’m that healer!”

The little coven has never failed to let out their laughter from the heart to the passerby till the very last of the soul has moved on from the soil of the earth to the afterlife.

This is my attempt at writing some comfort and also trying to post on Tumblr. It was fun doing this. I wish I could participate more but my creative juice is drained by my exam TvT I hope yall will enjoy this little shot<3 -Maru

AAAAAAUUUUGGGGHHHHH HE'S SO BEAUTIFUL IT MAKES ME WANNA DIE

Amazing art❤️❤️❤️

The eyes, chico... They never lie.

Last one for comfort week 🥰 Hobie sees you!

THIS WAS SO GOOD!!! You got me scared there for sec lol 😂

WEEK 2!!! WOOOOOOOOOOHHH

Movement

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 3k

Summary: You see a familiar face during a protest.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, can be read as platonic, CW blood, TW violence, CW injury.

Octobie 🎸

Navigation

A/N: special thanks to @pleaktale and @thesevenofstaves!!

One second you were standing atop a cop car with your megaphone blasting while you yell at the armoured coppers below. People were rallying behind you with the same fervor you had, throat aching screams thrown at the opposition whilst banners and picket signs reign high. It was peaceful for the most part, there was no pushing or hitting on both ends, but then just one bright muzzle flash from the coppers, just one ego infested man with a gun was all it takes for chaos to reign.

Fire flies from above, curling its flames downward towards you and the crowd behind you.

With brave yells from your people that depicts all the hurt and anger for the corrupt and oppressive government— it became screams of terror as the kevlar-covered cowards marched forward. Pushing and shoving with their glimmering barrels pointed directly at them. The ear splitting sounds of gunfire and broken glass rings in your ears like a broken record. The air smells like ash and embers, and yet, your people don't back down from the violence brought about generations ago.

After a struggle, you stand arm and arm with them, you know every single face. On your right is your neighbour just across the street from your own place. And on your left is the bassist from a local band. All have stories to tell, and different lives lived, but you all stayed to fight for the same cause, to fight for what's right against the regime that never fought for you or the people who hold your arm in a tight yet shaking grip.

Smoke itches your eyes, soot covers your face as the coppers stand before you, armed to the teeth, wrapped in darkened armour against regular citizens bearing not a single weapon on them or kevlar covering their chest. Yet, they look at you behind their dark visors with fury and gritted teeth.

The car under your feet creaks as the fire cackles on the bridge, flames strategically scattered to keep you all away from your goal.

“Hold!” You yell, and everyone grips tightly to one another. One thousand strong, one thousand faces that are full of determination but with fear etched in their eyes.

Everyone has gathered to end tyranny with hope by their side as they assemble around the bridge that faces Osborn's building.

The armed men bring out their riot shields, banging it with their batons as if they would even need it when your side is the one left bleeding and burned.

You swallow thickly, inhaling the smoke filled air despite your mask as they march forward in their militaristic pace. Shields clang and boots thump simultaneously. You and everyone fighting for what's right holds on tight.

An impenetrable wall of defiance.

Glancing at the woman next to you, the same woman who watched you grow up before her very eyes— you falter when you see her tear stained cheeks.

“Hold on.” She says, palm sliding from your arm to your hand, squeezing you tightly.

You could only nod as you turned towards the marching. And in their eyes, you see fiery embers reflected, and you know they've broken the line drawn on the sand as a fire bomb comes whizzing upwards from somewhere in the tightly packed armour that quickly descends down on top of you.

You don't close your eyes nor let go, instead, you watch as the black ball twirls in the air— and for a moment, time stands still.

The weapon comes close to you until you can see the groves of the metal, and you see a reflection of yourself staring back with wide eyes.

Suddenly, as if fate itself willed you and your people to live another day— a web comes to existence, it's shaped like a hand grasping the bomb in its hold. And then as quickly as it came, it's gone in your sight as the stringy web tosses it back to where it came from.

An explosion blows you and the people around you backwards, throwing you off the car harshly. Eyes closed and arms raised in front of your face, your body doesn't hit the hard ground. An eruption blasts from up front, nearer this time, and you feel the heat of it above you. But you don't burn nor see the bright light behind your closed eyelids.

“I've got you.” A familiar voice says above you, strained and tired.

You open your eyes, and you see his gloved hand wrapped around your collar while he has flipped the car over to shield everyone from the bombs. All the while carrying the car with one hand, and at the same time saving everyone behind it.

“Holy shit, it's you!” The woman who was next to you says with hope. You turn to look at her laying on a soft laid out web to take the impact from her fall. “You okay?” Nodding briefly, you glance towards the others behind you, finding nothing but scratches and bruises on each of them as they help each other back on their feet.

You return your attention to his mask, it's ripped out from the side, suit singed and half burned, revealing his hazel eye to you. “I'm okay.” You repeat for him. Your hand bracelets around his wrist, thumb brushing along his pulse point, his heartbeat is fast, terrifyingly fast. “I'm okay, you can let me go.” You notice the scratches along his left leg, still fresh and oozing with crimson.

He sees your concerned look. “Fuckers had Rhino with them.” Smirking, he still has the energy to smile through the pain. “Now they don't. Sorry ‘m late.”

“And here I thought you were stuck in traffic.” You joke while he gently puts you down on the asphalt.

He exhales sharply with a gentle smile that you can see through his mask that tugs around the corners. “‘m ‘ere now, we can do this together.”

“Together.”

Spider-Man, you've known him for years. You run in the same crowd as him, and even befriended him after he saved you from a thug who stole a box of donations from your hands. After that, you two got close. Friends even. He volunteers at F.E.A.S.T whenever he can or when he has a quiet patrol, always wearing his spiked costume, guitar at the ready but not without a smile hidden underneath his mask. He's either helping out with the kids, or with dinner in the kitchen with you and the others that always ends up with laughter. You're thankful for him and what he has given to the community, but right now as he holds up the car on his back with increasing weakness from his injuries, he's the one who needs everyone's help.

“We need to help him! Hold!” You stand up, a bit wobbly on your feet but once you place your shoulder against the heated metal, a new fire sets a blaze inside everyone's hearts.

Everyone behind you and the leather clad vigilante pushes the car down strenuously. With all the help gathered, the car crashes down on the road with its windows shattered and its once blue paint burned to darkened ashes. Flames still lick from under it, embers curling at your boots as he pushes you back and right next to him.

“Do you have a plan?” You ask, fists clenched.

“Thought you had one?” He teases.

A ghost of a smile passes by your lips. But before you could reply to him, he leaps up into the air and over the burning car. Landing effortlessly, he stands to his full height with his cherry red guitar slung over his back. You can see the sticker you contributed on the guitar, it's a rainbow peace sign that sits next to a pair of boots. He once joked about it being too on the nose, which you then threw a chopped carrot at his mask. You still remember how the whites of his mask widend before he fought back with a piece of crumpled tissue thrown at your cheek.

Your heartbeat thumps loudly against your chest, a thudding sound akin to the beat of war drums. He seems to hear it as he looks over his shoulder and through the blazing fire just to gaze at you. Flames dance in the reflection of his brilliant eyes, orange hues twisting and curling around his form as you meet with his eyes. One masked and one that reveals himself to you. He looks other worldly in your vision as the flames seem to embrace him fully in all his spikes and leather. It doesn't singe him nor eat and burn away at him, it's as if he's used to the flames.

For one moment, you saw his very soul bared to you.

“Take cover,” is the only thing he said to you.

Turning back around, facing an entire army of armed men, he takes his guitar from his back. The same guitar he plays for the children at F.E.A.S.T, the same guitar he once taught you how to play a few chords of. And it'll be the same guitar that will put an end to years of tyranny.

He raises his arm, the silver pick in between his fingers shining in the firelight. In that moment, fire could bring hope too, not just to destroy, but to rebuild what has been destroyed.

Breath staggered in your throat, you covered your ears. Unable to look away from him. Running footsteps muffled under your palms, wind rushing towards you like a gust of hurricane. And with no time to take cover, you kneel down, cowering behind the car just as when a bright light appears in your vision. The loud guitar riff splits the ground, almost bursting your eardrums. Then the light from the blast blinds you into unconsciousness from the sheer power he alone emanated.

—

You crack open your eyes to blue skies, and the rough pavement scratching from under you. There's still smoke in the air, and shattered glass all over the ground. Your ears ring, eyes hazy as you blink away the white spots dancing in your iris. A warm hand wraps around your bicep, voice fading in and out as it calls for you.

Turning your head towards the voice, you see an old friend staring back at you. “M-May? What happened?” Your voice is hoarse like you've inhaled a pack of cigarettes worth of smoke.

“You blacked out—”

“Where is he?” You remember what transpired. Panic sets in your heavy chest, remembering how he stood alone in front of many. You should've helped him, done more despite your lack of special abilities unlike his own. Tears well up in your eyes as you see what's in front of you.

A dark ashen car, or what's left of it still sits in the middle of the bridge. Scorch marks in the shape of sun rays are left burned on the asphalt. But you don't see him anywhere, not even a sign that he was right there in front of you was left behind. You see that you're a few ways behind the car than before, maybe someone helped you, or you flew back from the blast. You don't care enough to know when he could be hurt, or worse.

You grab her arms desperately, chest heaving, hands trembling. “Is he okay?” Her mouth parts but the sound of determined shouts echo from the front of the bridge. You squint your eyes to see clearer with hope that you get to see him within the gathering crowd.

Your entire faction lays waste to Osborn's gilded tower. His men have left him, and some have either surrendered or fled by jumping over the bridge and into the freezing waters. Windows break, and fire breaks out on the other side. But your banners fly high above it all. His oppressive regime is gone, and the people have triumphed.

You've won, but where is he?

“May,” you stagger up to your feet despite her protests. You now notice that you and May aren't the only people left on the bridge. In the far end, there's a small crowd circling around something. Or someone. “Is h–he?” Someone moves to the left and you see his iconic boots on the floor, unmoving. “No!”

“You need to rest! You hit your head—!” She holds your arm, but your adrenaline pushes you to tug away from her careful grasp.

“He's hurt!” You wobble towards the crowd, with every step feels like you're walking on hot coals as pain flares up around your ankle. “He needs h–help.” Weakly, you push people to make way. May surrenders and lets you go, even helping you move past the crowd.

“He looks like he's the same age as my son.” Someone said tearfully.

“He's just a kid.” A woman utters regretfully.

“Why aren't you helping him?!” You yell at them, yanking your mask away to breathe properly.

Slowly, you see pieces of him. Someone seems to hold his hand, the spider on his chest is now all tattered, revealing angry marks on his skin. Gasping, you finally make it to his side, and you fall to your knees harshly.

“What are we going to do now?” One asks through a broken tone.

You give him a once over, his suit is marred by dark ashes. The bright hue of the spandex is no more. Eyes roaming up, you see his unmasked face. There's no trace of the mask left anywhere on his face. From his jaw up to his brows, it all seems familiar. You cry when you realize who he is.

“H–Hobie?” You've known him far longer than you thought.

The same old woman who was next to you lets go of his hand and places it atop your own. His skin is cold.

You shake your head with tears in your eyes. “I should've known, you idiot.” All the days that he disappeared from your side, it all pieces back together to this moment.

Sliding your hand down to his wrist, you tearfully kiss his knuckles. Guilt eats at you, you wish that he'd open his eyes once again and everything will be alright. “We did it,” you whisper against his skin. “We did it so please wake up so you can see.” You hold his hand against your chest, careful not to aggravate his injuries whilst trying to warm him up.

You feel his pulse thump quietly against your thumb. Hope ignites within you. “Hobie?” Scooching closer, you place your ear atop his chest. Closing your eyes, you hear his heartbeat. “He's alive!” You perk up, grinning in astonishment. Looking up at everyone, you instruct them. “Go get a doctor, a nurse or whoever—!”

“You're loud.” His gravelly voice cuts you off, hand closing around your own slowly.

Your neck snaps towards him lightning quick, gasping at his tired yet awake expression. “I–I should say that to you with your fucking guitar blast. I swear it was nuclear energy.”

“Nah, not even close.” He weakly grasps your hand as cheers erupt around you. “I would know, love.”

“You were on the brink of death and you're still cheeky.” Your wobbling lips peck each of his warming fingers.

His hazel eyes glimmer in the sun, a smile etched on his lips. “We did it?”

You nod, “we did, because of you.”

“I only helped a bit.”

“A bit?!” Someone answers for you. You recognize him as the guy who owns the local convenience store. “You have no idea, son. You're the spark that we needed.”

Hobie chuckles, but winces when a wave of pain washes over him. “I think I broke a rib, or several.”

“Someone already ran to get you help, Hobie.” You say as you loom over him, hand gently cupping his cheek.

His eyes widen for a second before softening. “I take it my mask is gone?”

“More like disintegrated.” You joke light-heartedly. “Your secret’s safe with us, don't worry.”

He reaches for the back of your hand, fingers still shaking but once he holds your hand properly, the trembling stops. His eyes look at you tenderly above the haze of pain. All the aches and gashes he attained are nothing compared to the satisfaction of triumph.

“I trust you.” He whispers to you, thumb brushing along your own pulse point. Sighing, he glances towards the crowd looking on. “I don't trust that bloke though.”

The same man who answered him before guffaws loudly. Everyone follows suit with their own amused laughter.

“I'll keep your secret, Spider-Man.” May says next to you. “My nephew needs someone like you around. I'd like to keep it that way.”

Hobie nods appreciatively at her.

“Same here,” the convenience store man says, fist placed above his heart. “I'll take it to my grave, son.”

Voices echo around the bridge as every person in that crowd promises the same thing.

Hobie grins despite his cut lip, locking eyes with you as ambulance sirens can be heard a few blocks away. He grips tighter around your hand, warmth fully coming back to his body.

“Thank you,” you sniff, your hands never letting him go as tears ebb away from his shining eyes. Taking your mask from your neck, you offer it to him before the ambulance gets to the bridge.

Hobie reaches for it, bunching it up in his grip, eyes never leaving your own. With a nod from him, you help him put it on before everyone helps him get in the ambulance. All the while never leaving him as he silently asks you to stay with him all the way. And you wordlessly promise to him that you'll never leave as long as he wants you to stay by his side.

Custom banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Eat the Rich

OCTOBIE WEEK 2!!! YEAAHHHHHHHHH

I am LOVING this event everyone's work is sooo good.

Please check out @the-kr8tor ‘s octobie event!!!

banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

References

OCTOBIE WEEK 2!!! YEAAHHHHHHHHH

I am LOVING this event everyone's work is sooo good.

Please check out @the-kr8tor ‘s octobie event!!!

banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment

References

Teehee 😋😋 (more art under cut)

So RC lives in new york in a college dorm w/ this weird freak whose his best friend

He got bitten by a spider when he was 15ish and his fangs/shark teeth are a effect of the change in dna

His cannon event was his universe's Peni Parker

He goes to college for a art degree and his roommate is a film major

He was in the first group of spiders to be recruited to spider society (so no one told him how awful it was)

He met Hobie like 4 months before Gwen joined spider society and became really good friends

Hobie caught feelings first so like half of their story is River being oblivious

Then Gwen gets introduced and Hobie hangs out with her a lot (bc shes living with him for a while) and River gets scared bc he realized he was in love w hobie

Its miscommunication for a while untill river bites the bullet and confesses

During the whole miles thing when the hobie quits river goes with him (to his universe) where they already had the bootleg watches

That's their brief history i have a shit tone in my drafts that i haven't posted lmao

I wanted to participate so heres river cade or RC aka... spider ghoul!

He has a whole backstory n stuff but hes dating hobie brown teehee 😇

Someone ask to hear more about my oc n ill marry you or somthing

Hobie brown x Midwest emo! Reader

Aka: Hobie brown visiting his mom's home town before his senior year of highschool and meeting you!

I'm planning to make it a series... Expect part one soon! Will also be posted on: Ao3, and maybe wattpad

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist :)