#ttn hobie and r

[the-kr8tor]

Autumn of '88

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, Reader and Hobie are 13/14 in this, Puppy love, TTN! Reader and Hobie, set in the TTN universe, best friends to lovers (prequel to TTN), CW food mentions, Fluff.

A/N: This is the last of the 1k celebration fics! Thank you all so much ❤️❤️❤️

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Head on your palm, heavy eyes slowly closing with every dreary words that your biology teacher says, you fight a yawn from escaping since the last time someone yawned in front of Mrs. Weathers they got kicked out of class. But with the boring subject about symbiotic relationships in the wild, that you most definitely already know since you did the advanced reading, you're tempted to yawn loudly and widely just so you could escape from this biology hell.

The air is crisp, October air breezing through you from the open window to your left. Clad in your cardigan and yellow corduroy pants, the cold still seeps into the thick fabrics. It's a comfortable cold but with you sitting still for more than an hour without stretching your limbs has you freezing in your seat.

You risk getting called out by Mrs. Weathers if she notices you looking out of the window for even a second. But you are so bored out of your mind that you'd rather stare at the oak tree outside than continue to listen to her yapping about symbiosis. Having the brilliant idea to hide your wandering eyes from the teacher with your hand slightly covering your profile, now safe from her piercing gaze, you watch as the orange leaves dance with the breeze.

There's a pile of dead leaves at the bottom of its trunk, and you wish you could jump inside and never have to study biology ever again. It must be so warm and cozy inside, with the orange and yellow leaves as your sky and walls, you'll live like a tiny mouse queen ruling over your land. You think of all the stuff you'll bring inside your little leaf kingdom, your sketchbook is definitely a yes, and also your big pack of colorful markers and pencils is an absolute need. You'll need some snacks of course, some eggos and cheese balls would suffice. As for sleeping, you guess you'll never need to sleep when you have so much time to do anything you want in your leaf kingdom.

Yet, you think you'll be lonely inside. Sure you can bring your gameboy or your care bears, but they can't exactly talk and have the most riveting banter with you. With a smile, you plan to bring your best friend with you to your autumn kingdom. Hobie can be your bard or your right hand man. It's perfect, you think, a perfect place where it's just you and Hobie where there's no more school to attend, no more grades to keep up, just you and him having fun in the pile of leaves.

With a sigh, you blink slowly as your eyes get heavier and heavier with every daydream. Fighting the sandman from having his sandy grip on you, you pinch your cheek subtly. Opening your eyes, a familiar silhouette appears right next to the oak tree. Long arms waving in your direction, legs jumping to get your attention. Blinking rapidly, it's none other than Hobie who has the widest grin on his face when he notices that he finally has your attention.

He motions for you to go outside, beckoning you over dramatically. Miming that he'll cry if you don't go outside. You think otherwise, quietly giggling at his antics.

After the realization, you straighten in your seat, wondering why and how he got outside when he's supposed to be in maths.

A loud thwack slams against your desk, jumping awake, Mrs. Weathers shakes her head, tongue clicking in agitation.

“If you're not prepared to listen in class it's best that you should leave, miss L/N.” She says, gritting her fake teeth.

“Okay,” you stand up to collect your things, shoving your notebook and books inside your already full backpack. Your reply has Mrs. Weathers confused, since you are her best student.

“Wait—” you've never seen her flabbergasted, your classmates snicker silently in their seats, some even clap and cheer you on.

Giving them all a shrug, you exit the classroom before she grabs you back inside. With the door shutting close, you sprint towards the exit. Trainers squeaking on the linoleum, backpack heavy, you push the double doors open with your shoulder. Hobie greets you outside just as the fresh air whips at your cheeks.

He claps slowly but surely, face proud with a smug smile. “I've got to hand it to you, Pingu, I did not expect that. I have successfully made a rebel out of you.”

Hobie stands on the grass like he owns the entire school, hands tucked inside his jeans, thumbs tapping on his metal belts that clinks against each other when he moves. For once, he's dressed for the weather, the old worn leather jacket now fits him better than last year, it was bigger on his shoulders back then. Puberty works in mysterious ways, you think. A denim vest lays on top of the leather, handmade pins of his favourite things are all tacked securely on the denim. Its edges are frayed, but you know it was intentional since you're the one who helped him do it. The thrifted ‘Queen’ shirt you gave him on his birthday is the perfect size, but you know that he'll only be able to wear it for a couple of years at the rate he's growing.

No one would think you two are best friends judging by how different your styles are, or how different you are to him. Personality wise, likes, dislikes, it's all different, sometimes you wonder how you two get along. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

“How'd you get out of maths?”

“Climbed out of the window before Mr. Keery came in.”

You doubt his story. “Yeah, right, your classroom is on the third floor, Hobie.”

He feigns hurt, “my own best mate doubts my abilities?” You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks says otherwise. “‘m great at climbing, I could climb down from that height.” You stay silent, looking at him with a raised brow and unblinking eyes. “...fine, I faked sleepin' by snorin’ loudly, happy?”

You touch his shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Hobie, you don't have to fake snore because you snore like an elephant giving birth.”

“You're very funny,” he takes your wrist to push your hands away. You now notice the new nail polish on his nails. “That doesn't even make bloody sense.”

You ignore him, mouth agape and shocked at his painted nails. “You finally coloured your nails?” You take his hand that has nail polish sloppily painted on. The paint even reaches to the edge of his nails, painting his skin with shadowy black. “You could've asked me for help, y’know.”

“It's part of the style” He shrugs, taking his hand away before you can feel his pulse pick up.

“Sure, even the bubbles are in style.” You tease with a playful smile. “So why'd you call me over here?”

“Got bored, then thought you're also bored so I went to your window so we could skip the rest of the day.” He purposely skips the part that he knows exactly where you always sit.

You gasp. “Wait, I thought we were just skipping class, not skipping the rest of the day!” Hands on your hips, you shake your head. “And here I thought there's like a really cool… stick or something.”

“A stick?” He chortles.

“Yeah, like the one you found a few days ago that actually looked like a sword.”

“Nah, I wanted to—” A high pitched whistle echoes out, startling you both. Finding the source of the sound, the school guard is currently running towards you. The hundreds of keys on his belt jingles, cheeks red from all the whistle blowing.

“Oi!” The yells, pointing accusingly at you two.

With wide eyes, Hobie takes your hand before sprinting away. He practically drags you along with him, bigger strides than you, he looks over his shoulder to check on you. Unsurprisingly enough, he has a huge grin on his lips, as if he planned all of it.

You follow his lead, dead leaves crunching under your shoes, backpack weighing you down. Yet, he doesn't leave you even though you're slowing him down. You appreciate him for not letting your hand go, but you don't like how your heart hammers against your chest when you look at your intertwined hands.

Finally reaching the metal fence, Hobie chucks his backpack over it. It's not that tall for him, he could easily jump over it with no problem, but with you still waiting on your growth spurt, it'll be a challenge for you. He knows it too, without asking he grabs your bag off your shoulders, he then quickly throws it over the other side before crouching down with his hands on top of the other.

“C’mon, Pingu, up you go!” Hobie flicks his eyes over to the guard, he's glad that the guard isn't exactly a track star. The whistling gets louder as the uniformed man gets closer. “Hurry—!”

Before he could finish saying the word, you shakily put your foot on his palm. With one strong push, and a jump from you, Hobie hoists you over the fence. You miraculously make it over, landing on your side with a groan. Hobie follows a second later, climbing like his life depended on it. Immediately grabbing each of your backpacks, then putting both on one arm, he lifts you up from the pavement with one hand just before the guard could even reach the fence; you two race off across the street, huffing and aching from the daring escape.

Going around a corner, Hobie leads you towards an alley. He skids off to a stop, heavy bags falling off his arms.

Hands on your knees, lungs burning, and face sweaty from the run, you check behind the corner if the guard is still after you.

“He won't follow us anymore. We're out!” Hobie exclaims, exhilarated, and grinning widely. He leans on the wall opposite of you, chest heaving, laughter echoing around the empty alleyway.

Copying his stance, cracking a smile, you laugh together with him. “You're a bad influence, Hobie Brown.”

“And you're a great influence, Y/N L/N.” His smile and his shining eyes says it all: we balance each other out. “Too bloody nice, that's what you are.”

You shake your head, chin resting on your clavicle to hide your lopsided smile. Heat on your cheeks, you seem to find yourself having the same expression lately whenever you're around him.

“Where to?” He asks once he caught his breath.

“My choice?” You ask, smile permanently etched on your lips.

“‘course,” Hobie says it like it's the most obvious thing. He was supposed to add to his sentence but he shuts his mouth before he could let the word escape.

You excitedly perk up. “The mall?”

He makes a face. “I'd rather stay in maths.”

“Arcade then?”

“They'd kick us out,” you knit your eyebrows in question. “Because we're skippin’ class, they put up that fuckin' sign a few weeks ago.”

“Oh right, I forgot. How about the record shop? Mike's cool, he might let us stay until classes are over.”

Hobie pushes himself off the wall, strutting over to you, your heart quickens for some reason. He pats shoulder with a smirk. “Your best idea yet,” taking both bags off the grimey floor, he puts them both on each shoulder. It's your turn to smirk at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say in a sing-song tone.

He clicks his tongue, avoiding your eyes. “C’mon then, before someone sees us here and thinks we're skippin' class.”

“Hobie, we are skipping class.”

“Not if we act like we're not.”

“...what?” You chuckle, blinking in confusion. “What would you do?”

“Nothin’, let's go.” He walks away from you.

“Oh come on, what will you do? Will you put on your best acting skills like how you faked being sick in front of the nurse? Because she was definitely convinced that you had chicken pox!” You giggle, following him, matching his longer strides.

“It worked, didn't it?” Hobie turns his head away from your playful glance.

“Yeah, because you had an actual fever. But sure, your drawn on chicken pox was very convincing.”

“I'm an artiste, Y/N.” He says, trying to do a french accent.

You snort, “sure, and I'm the queen of England.”

“Alright, your majesty.” He stops, “carry your own luggage,” your bag thuds on the pavement. “I don't want to help some parasite.” Smugly walking away, you feign hurt with your loud gasp.

“You…you doodoo head!” You yank your bag, wearing it properly on your back. Running after Hobie, he has a mischievous smile, one you're all too familiar with.

“Doodoo head? That the best you can come up with?” He says before bolting off, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey!” Running, you follow him with a laugh. “Asshole!”

—

Finally reaching the vinyl shop, the bells jingle as you two enter. The smell of plastic and cheap air freshener lingers in the air, the ancient shaggy carpet is soft under your trainers. Shelves upon shelves of records greet you as you roam your eyes around the different album covers. It's a slow day so the store is empty except for Mike the cashier who has headphones on.

Hobie sniffs dramatically, “home sweet home!”

Mike cracks an eye open, with a groan after seeing you and Hobie standing by the door, he chucks his headphones on the counter, looking disgruntled. The denim jacket with hundreds of patches and bottle cap pins is large on his lanky frame.

“Oh great, Hobie's here.” He says sarcastically, long straight hair flipped over his shoulder with one move from his head. “And he brought his little girlfriend. Hi, Y/N, you still hang out with this arse?” He points at Hobie who doesn't bother correcting him anymore. “Seriously, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“D’you finally have it, mate?” Hobie acts like he's the same age as Mike, even though the teenage cashier could be his older brother. Ignoring Mike's jab, he waits for his reply.

Wanting to quit his job is clearly seen on his face. Then he considers the fact that he needs to save for college. With a sigh, he points towards the end of the store, where you think ‘it’ is there.

Hobie punches the table with a thump, then he excitedly bounds over to where the cashier pointed. “Thanks, bruv.”

“Cyndi Lauper?” You ask, all wide eyed and shy. “It's not at the front anymore.”

“Over to the right, just across where your boyfriend is.”

“He's not my—nevermind, thanks.” Walking past all the display, Hobie guffaws when he finds what he was looking for. You smile at how happy he is.

He's so happy that he grabs you by your elbow, pointing at the new ‘Ramones’ album. The words “Ramones Mania” are printed in bright red.

“Finally! Look!”

“I see it, Hobs.” You chuckle, “didn't this release months ago though?”

“It did,” he sighs like he's recalling a bad memory. “But this place isn't making a lot of money from records like this, so Mike here!” He yells the last part to annoy the man. “Delayed ordering it. I had to come ‘ere every day just to remind him.”

You see Mike pressing the volume up on his walkman. Making sure that Hobie sees that he's not listening to him.

“You didn't tell me that.” You say, sounding a bit too hurt.

“Thought you wouldn't care.” Hobie shrugs, “‘sides, you don't listen to stuff like this.” He points at the album.

“I could listen to it, Hobs. I make you listen to my records and you seem to like it.”

Hobie's eyes soften. “You wanna listen to it together then? You might not like it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “If I don't end up liking it then at least I gave it a try, right? If I do like it we have something new to talk about.”

He could only manage a smile and a curt nod. Taking the record to the listening booth that sits at the corner of the store, he leaves his bag outside whilst he opens the door for you. Placing your bag down more gently than he did, you enter the cramped booth.

Mike yells after you two, “you lot better not snog in there!” You and Hobie scrunch your faces at the man.

“We're fourteen, mate!” Hobie yells back, not agitated, just weirded out by Mike's comment.

“You're fourteen? How would I know? You look fuckin' sixteen, bruv! Tall motherfucker.” He whispers the last part, Hobie didn't hear it but you surely did.

“I thought he was cool.” You admit, shutting the booth door behind you.

“He's a wanker, just actin’ like he is. Thought you fancy him?”

“Ew.” He beams at your reaction.

You giggle, the sound bouncing off the padded walls of the booth. It's just a regular rectangular box with a shelf for the record player and a bench to sit on. It's quieter inside, the cars outside are muffled, the only clear thing you can hear is how your heartbeat gets faster and faster the longer you stay squished inside the booth with him. Sitting down, you leave enough space for him. Hands on top of the other, you roam your eyes around the cracking paint on the walls, mind making shapes from how the navy blue paint crumbles.

Hobie carefully takes the record out then places it on the record player. Sitting next to you, you can practically feel his excitement reverberating. He takes the headphones from its rack, turning each around so you and him could listen at the same time.

“Ready to shit your trousers?” He asks, eyes glinting from the single light bulb. He's so close to you that you can see yourself in the reflection in his eyes. And you can see every single strand of eyelashes that's perfectly blending in with his eyeliner.

“I don't want to poop on my trousers, I like this pair.” You joke, and you pat yourself on the back for making him laugh. “This is corduroy, Hobie.”

“Alright quiet time now.” He presses play as you hide your amused smile.

—

You bask in the sunset, eyes closed, you let the autumn air kiss your cheeks, your hands are behind you, propping you up. Despite the dusty pavement, and the looming problem of getting found out that you skipped school, you're perfectly content where you are right now. It would be perfect but you're missing something, or someone for that matter.

Cold air suddenly blows right behind you, the convenience doors close with a hiss and that's your cue to look up. Hobie appears upside down in your vision just like you thought, he tilts his head, you can see the cogs in his head turn. Placing the cup on your forehead, he laughs at your crossed eyes. Condensation rolls off from the plastic cup and into your skin.

Hobie takes it away before you could catch a cold. Sitting next to you, he hands you your bright slurpee. There's a mix of colours, red and blue melting into the orange and purple.

“They didn't have the brown one.” He says as he rips open a pack of Doritos. “There's no puddin’ pops either.”

“Aw,” you say slightly disappointed, but the sight of the box of nerds inside the plastic bag helps remedy your disappointment. “Ooh nerds!”

“Where?” As he says it, you see a grin slowly spreading on his face. “I only see one right here!” Chortling, grin wide, the orange hues of the sky paints him with its watercolour glow. You'd take this sight more than a day alone at the arcade.

“Ha ha.” You say flatly, sipping your drink too quickly, you wince loudly. Hobie guffaws into the barren space, save for the 711 behind you and the woods sitting quietly in front of you. His laugh echoes, even with his amusement, he still has the time to pat your back affectionately.

“Ow.” You rub your temple.

“What’d I tell you before? Drink it slowly, love.” The title slips out of his tongue. The second he realizes it, he hides behind his own cup, sipping wordlessly as he stares off into the woods.

Love, the simple freudian slip has you blinking at him slowly. He has never called you that before, he has, however, called you a bunch of nicknames that are either sweet or to purposely annoy you. But love? You've only heard older teenagers call each other that, and they usually have their hand inside their girlfriend’s or boyfriend’s back pockets when they do. You have no idea if Hobie has mistaken, because you're clearly not love, you're pingu, you're cheese, you're pebbles, hell, you're even lad, or his best mate. Never love, because that's reserved for someone you actually like, someone you truly care for.

Is he mistaken? Mimicking something he has heard around school?

“I should've told you about the album.” His voice wakes you to the present.

Do you care for him? Of course you do.

“What?” You breathlessly ask.

He's your best mate after Danny left, he was the only one who filled that lonely lonely gap he left. You think he's stuck with you forever, and he thinks you're stuck with him forever. Strangely enough, you both think it's perfect.

“Me pestering the shit out of Mike.” You knit your eyebrows at his words. He looks down at his boots, a small puddle at his feet reflects his own confused face. Is he apologizing? Why is he apologizing for? Weirdly enough, you both ask the same question.

You'd annoy Mike for him. You'd call the shop endlessly just so they would order his record. Even if you get in trouble for the telephone bill.

“You would've helped.” Hobie continues, eyes now looking into your own.

Care, it's a simple word, but you think it's not enough to describe how you feel about him, how you really feel about your best friend. It's much more than that.

“Yeah, I would've annoyed him too.” You softly smile at him.

“I know, love.” Because he knows you, and you know him too. Hobie utters the title more confidently, the word rolling off his tongue like butter. He makes it sound like he has been calling you that in his head for a long time. Maybe he has. “I know you would.”

He had the answer the whole time, it's not just you caring for him. It's love, it's love in its earliest state, it's love at its most innocent.

You love him, that revelation scares you, but it's better not knowing how you truly feel whenever he smiles at you and your heart skips a beat. Now you know, you'll tell him one day, one day when that feeling gnaws at your chest. But for now, you'll settle with drinking slurpees with him, you'll settle for skipping class so you could listen to records with him. For now you'll settle with loving him as his best mate, and for now, you're content just by being at his side.

[the-kr8tor]

OKAY WOAHH I READ THIS SO QUICK BC IT WAS THAT GOOD

I Read ex! Hobie and reader and I'm immediately sold

The vibes are immaculate 😍 i really liked how you described how bored he was and the way the room looks! It was like I was right there!!

The assistant blushing after Hobie looked at her tbh that's so real

A psa for all the lovelies out there: when a cop offers you food and drink do not take it!! That's how they get your dna without your consent!! Especially if there's cutlery, bottle or cup!!

Iwbsisnznwjsjn the fight!! 😂😂😂 "No FUCK YOU NO FUCK YOU!" Mum and dad are fighting bc of Felicia 😔😔😔

Hobie regretted saying that IMMEDIATELY

I love r and the personality you gave her she's like me if I could pretend idgaf 😂

Lmaoo r still being friends with the rest of the gang is so funny 🤣 it's like you still hanging out with your ex's parents every other weekend 😂

The ttn reference 🤭🤭🤭

Noooo hobie gave her his personal watch to contact him 😭 i can imagine him always checking his watch just to check if r contacted him and it's been five years and he still does it 😭

Brooo this is so freaking good I want more where they settle their differences and smooch (delulu)

This was literally addictive i feel like i need to go jump in a freezing lake to make my mind clear bc im OBSESSED

Octobie Wildcard: Double Interrogation

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

Summary: Hobie reluctantly accepts going into a police interview but bites off more than he could chew once he realizes his ex will be interviewing him.

Word count: 4.8k

Author's Note: I MADE IT IN TIME FOR WEEK 3!!! I'd like to thank @pinksugarscrub for beta reading an earlier draft of it! Event by @the-kr8tor and banners by @mushroom-graphics-allotment . This prompt is based on a DND campaign from Dimension 20’s Unsleeping City: https://youtu.be/Ukt_uoeh_YY?si=laDicS-fMXIMazGB

Tags: Ex!Hobie, Older!Hobie, Ex!Reader, Older!Reader, Detective!Reader, American!Reader, Explicit Language, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

As far as Hobie can remember, this is probably the first time he’s been inside a police station without being charged for something.

He sits back against the backrest of the metal chair in the interrogation room, tipping the chair back and balancing it on its back legs while his long, gangly legs rest on the dark wooden table. It was a surprise for Hobie when his friend Gwen begged him to go into a police interview in her stead for a freak criminal attack at a wedding in Manhattan, resulting in a few civilian casualties and the capture of some obscure criminal duo he can’t seem to remember at the moment. She knows damn well about how he feels about those blue pigs– especially with his history with the corrupt law system back home– but any inkling of refusal died on his tongue the moment she mentioned that the interview was going to be with her dad of all people. Seeing Gwen’s desperation to keep her identity a secret as she trembles in front of him, Hobie could only sigh and reluctantly agree.

Damn, he’s getting soft. 

A quiet groan rumbles in his chest as he rolls his head back to look up at the ceiling. The room itself is dim, with only a couple of barred windows filtering sunlight inside and a small light hanging in the middle of the ceiling. The dingy fan quickly spins around, making the silver plastic pull chain swaying back and forth with soft clinks echoing in the room. His spider senses tingle in a low hum against his skin as another bored groan rumbles up from his throat. His eyes glance over to the one-way glass, his brows furrowing from his spider senses not picking up any bodies on the other side of the window, before brushing it off and glancing back up at the ceiling.

Thought there were supposed to be a group of them watching over these kinds of interviews, Hobie thinks to himself as his hand reaches up to the hem of his mask and pulls it up halfway. He absently tugs on his lip ring with his front teeth while he scratches his chin, his scruff brushing against his calloused fingers. He’s tempted to push himself off the uncomfortable chair and get the hell out of this room, but the hairs of his arms barely stand up before the heavy metal door finally opens. A uniformed young woman with a police badge walks into the room with a tray of small chocolate biscuits and a paper cup with the tea bag string hanging off the lip.

“Sorry about this,” the young officer shyly sets the plate and cup down on the table in front of him. “I know you were supposed to meet with Captain Stacy and the rest of the Criminal Investigations Unit, but there was an emergency hostage situation at Upper Manhattan, and… well, I’m sure you and the rest of the Spider Gang are already aware of it and are already taking care of it with them.”

Her eyes then widen as she nervously smiles at him, “but we do appreciate you coming here to cooperate with one of our other cases! I just hope this isn’t a waste of your time being here instead of with your team.”

A small scoff slips through Hobie’s lips as he grabs the warm paper cup, his nose subtly crinkling from the familiar smell of Lipton tea wafting into his nostrils before he politely takes a sip. “S’alright, love,” Hobie reassures her with a wave of his hand. “I’m sure all of the other Spiders are handling it without me.”

Although being over there would probably be a lot more interesting, Hobie thought to himself before grabbing a chocolate biscuit and taking a bite of it. The bittersweet chocolate and hazelnut flavor floods his mouth before he reluctantly washes it down with the hot flavored water (he refuses to call that tea). “Should I come back at a later time if the captain–” Hobie internally grimaces from the polite term– “is unavailable?”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry!” the young woman smiles at him sheepishly. “One of the detectives from the CIU will still be able to interview you. She just needs to gather all of the files Captain Stacy left her before he and the rest of the unit left.”

The young woman then starts to head towards the door, “I’ll check up on her, so hang tight.”

As the young woman leaves the room, the polite smile ghosting Hobie’s face instantly disappears before a bored frown takes over. He lifts his arm to check on his Web-Watch, already scanning through the updates from the other Spiders and their missions, including the hostage situation mentioned earlier. His eyes soften as he sees a small photo of Mayday and Peni hanging over a ledge with some Jamaican patties in their hands while Gwen, Miles and Pavitr swing into what seems like the Alchemax building.

A small snort slips through his nose as a small smile curls up on his lips. Even after working with them for almost ten years, he still can’t help but remember all of them as the bright-eyed young Spiders. Even Mayday, who he met with Peter when she was only a year old, has grown up into the fiery little spitfire that he knew she would become, helping out behind the scenes with the rest of the younger Spiders while the veterans handle the more dangerous missions.

Fuck, Hobie’s getting old.

Hobie shakes his head and tugs his mask back down as he continues to scroll through all of the updates, his eyes quickly spotting an exasperated Captain Stacy and a bewildered Captain Morales-Davis of the Emergency Service Unit, before a private message from Gwen pops up. His brows furrow as he taps onto the message on the screen while more messages pop up.

Gwen: Just saw my dad at Alchemax

Gwen: Almost all of CIU actually

Gwen: Well…except one

Gwen: Sorry, Hobs 😭

Wait, what?

Before Hobie can respond to the messages, his skin crawls underneath his spandex and his heart almost drops to his stomach from the familiar tingle in the back of his head, that tingle sending an overwhelming, bittersweet wave of emotions he was not prepared for. He instantly jumps up from his seat and knocks the metal chair over, the chair clattering against the linoleum flooring, but the heavy metal door opens before he could pry the bars off one of the windows.

His eyes quickly dart at the young officer standing underneath the doorway with some papers in her arms, and right behind her is you.

You, one of the youngest detectives of the Criminal Investigations Unit in the New York Police Department. The rookie detective who helped the newly-formed Spider-Gang at the time figure out and crack down the notorious Sinister Six at the height of their power. The detective in the running to be promoted to Sergeant despite your age. One of the few people who personally knows all of the Spider-Gang’s identities.

And his ex-girlfriend.

Hobie quietly mutters an “ah fuck” under his breath before he reluctantly picks the metal chair back up and flops back down on the seat, resigned to the awkward conversation awaiting him. At the same time, you stare at him with a stoic face while slowly walking into the interrogation room, setting an old-school recorder down on the table across from him while the young officer sets the files down in front of you. You quietly thank her as you take your seat across from Hobie, and she nods back at you before glancing over at Hobie again. With a slight blush on her cheeks, she turns away and scurries out of the room, closing the metal door behind her.

An awkward silence instantly looms inside the interrogation room as you adjust the recorder and straighten out the stack of paperwork, your eyes staying downcast and on the items in front of you while you ignore Hobie’s tensely apprehensive figure. His skin crawls and tingles at the sight of you in spite of his dread of seeing you again after the tumultuous breakup before your transfer to the CIU. After that you mainly kept in contact with the rest of the Spider-Gang throughout your career, seeking their cooperation when there were metahuman cases that you deemed too dangerous for the NYPD alone, and made no contact with him for five years until today.

And he's going to have a very long talk with Gwen after he’s done with this damn interview. 

With everything set up to your liking, you let out a reluctant sigh of your own before finally looking up at him.

“You can take the mask off,” you finally break the silence as you massage the bridge of your nose. “Nobody else is here to watch over this, and I already disabled all the cameras in the room. Per request by Ghost Spider, of course.”

Hobie furrows his brows at your cool, formal demeanor, as if you don’t go out for lunch with Gwen during your rare days off– not that he needed to know that– but he shrugs it off. True to your word, his spider senses only sense you in the room and no one else on the other side of the one-way glass, and with a grudging sigh, his hand reaches up to the hem of his spike-mohawked mask before slowly peeling it off his face. His newly twisted dreads flutter down to his shoulders, and his silver piercings glint against the lights as his piercing dark eyes land on yours again. His eyes briefly soften at the obvious dark circles under your eyes and the slight gauntness of your cheeks before hardening to a bored stare again.

You stare at him back with your own impassive look in your eyes before speaking again. “Thank you. Now, per protocol, I will ask for your permission to record this interview–”

“Is that really necessary?” Hobie interrupts you, his annoyance slowly peeking through as he clenches his jaw and furrows his brows again.

Your eyes sharpen with an unamused narrow as you sit back against your seat and cross your arms against your chest. With a click of his tongue and a scoff, he looks away from you and waves his hand, signaling you to continue.

“...as I was saying,” you resume with a hint of irritation in your voice, “do I have your consent to record this interview?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Hobie mutters under his breath, and you ignore the slight twitch in your eye before continuing.

“Alright then,” you manage to keep most of your irritation out of your voice as you press the play button on the recorder with a click. “This is Detective Y/N L/N of the New York Police Department 21st Precinct Criminal Investigations Unit. I am currently interviewing a member of the vigilante group Spider-Gang, Spider-Punk–”

“Spider-Man.”

“No, I’m not calling you that–”

“Spider-Man.”

“There’s like five Spider-Men in the group. I am not confusing Captain Stacy with which Spider-Man I’m talking to when he reviews this tape–”

“Spider. Man.”

You let out an exasperated groan and massage your temples as a small headache ebbs out from his stubbornness. Breathing in a deep breath before slowly exhaling until your lungs briefly deplete, you stare at Hobie with a deadpan before relenting with a roll of your eyes.

“Correction, the member is Spider-Man–” you narrow your eyes at him with an annoyed look as he gives back a mocking smirk before reverting back to his guarded nonchalance, “ –also known as Mr. Brown as provided by Ghost Spider–”

Hobie instantly sits up on the metal chair with a loud scrape, staring at you with disbelief as you instantly stop the recording with a scowl of your own.

“Have you lost the bloody plot?! The hell are you doing giving my last name–”

“Hey– Gwen was the one who gave the damn list of aliases for you guys. I don’t know why the hell you were just written as Mr. Brown, but that’s what she picked for you!”

“Goddamnit–” Hobie clenches his fists in the air with a frustrated inhale, briefly lamenting why none of the Spiders know how to lie properly, before heaving out another sigh. “Y’know what, whatever. Fine. I don’t– just– just keep going.”

As Hobie drops back down on his seat with a disgruntled huff, you roll your eyes with a slow angry exhale before you press play on the recorder again. “As stated before, Spider-Man, also known as Mr. Brown, is in interview room 138 with me today for the metahuman criminal attack at a wedding in Central Park. As requested by Ghost Spider, the interviewee will be referred to by an alias to protect their civilian identities if there is an unforeseeable future where any tapes involving the vigilante group fall into the wrong hands.”

You clear your throat before looking up at him with a professional, impassive deadpan. “Now, Mr. Brown, thank you for coming into this interview–”

“You seriously gon’ call me Mr. Brown,” Hobie scoffs under his breath as he crosses his arms against his chest, and your eye twitches again as you glare at him across the table.

“Are we really doing this now?”

“Oh my god– no, I just– this thing is just–”

“I’m at work, okay–”

“Yeah, I get that, but Mr. Brown is just fucking stu–”

“So the thing here with me, ‘bie, is that I’m at work right now. Okay?”

Hobie clicks his tongue and looks away from you again, ignoring the small flutter from hearing your slip of the tongue with that stupid pet name. Meanwhile your eyes harden and sharpen at him as you stare daggers at him, one of your hands balling up into a fist as you take another breath to calm down before you continue on with the interview.

“So, Mr. Brown,” you emphasize with as much irritation in your voice as you can without breaking your professional demeanor while glancing at the papers, “Based on my understanding with one of the written interviews with Spider-Byte at the crime scene, you were one of the first respondents who arrived at the scene to stop the attack of…”

You glance at the paper again and raise an eyebrow, your eyebrows furrowing in slight disbelief of the next words coming out of your mouth.

“...Styx and Stone.”

“May break my bones,” Hobie mutters under his breath as he glances at you with a bored look again before straightening up on his seat. “Yeah, I was one of the first respondents to arrive at the scene, along with another vigilante who was there before me.”

In a petty impulse, a strained smirk curls up on his face. “Black Cat, who I have personally worked very intimately with along with the rest of the Spider-Gang–”

CLICK!

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you–”

“Fuck you–”

“No, fuck you–”

“Go fuck yourself–”

“A’ight, I don’ actually want to do this–” Hobie growls out as he holds his hands up in a frustrated surrender, but you were still fuming across from him.

“I always knew there was something going on between you two–”

“No, there was nothing–” Hobie sputters out as he slams his hands against the table and pushes himself up from the table and glares at you– “there is NOTHING between me and Felicia–”

“Felicia?!” You bark back as you follow suit, slamming your own hands against the wooden table and pushing yourself up. “Oh, so you two are on first name bases now, since you two are so intimately acquainted–”

“Oh my fucking god–”

“You’re such a piece of shit, you fucking dog–”

“No, don’t even start this shit!” Hobie’s voice grows louder and rumbles against the walls.

“Oh, please–” you scoff as an overwhelming surge of adrenaline grows and lumps up in the back of your throat– “so you’re telling me you were faithful, protector of New York City–”

“I AM FAITHFUL!” Hobie screams out in anger and anguish, his hands balling up into fists as he slams one of them against the table, “I WAS FAITHFUL! I WOULD HAVE CONTINUED TO BE FAITHFUL–”

Both of you scoff and look away from each other as you both slowly lower yourselves onto your seats again, the brief fire of the familiar, bitter back-to-back from the end of your relationship now extinguishing into a slow, quiet simmer. After a long moment of awkward silence, Hobie lets out a defeated sigh.

“...’s not actually like that,” he quietly admits as he slowly slumps down on the metal chair, the hard edges digging into his flesh. “I just…”

Your eyes flick back to him, his figure almost shrinking under your scrutiny before Hobie finally looks at you with an unreadable expression. 

“I…I’m just miffed, alright?” he adds on with a slight sulk. “She was there to try to nab some expensive necklace the bride had ‘cuz the groom was from some rich family, so it was just a coincidence for her to be there during the attack…”

Hobie squirms under your hawk-like gaze, oblivious to your eyes softening slightly the longer you look at him. “I don’t– I don’t why I said it like that, it was honestly just business as usual…”

You stay quiet as he trails off, the raw hurt and resentment still lingering in your chest, before you look back down at the papers with a tired sigh of your own. “Business. Right.”

You absently worry your bottom lip with your front teeth, which Hobie’s eyes briefly linger onto before flicking away, before you glance back up to him and press the play button on the recorder again. “So, what? Was that attack from Styx and Stone just a coincidence or something, or are they connected to like a bigger organization like the Sinister Six–”

“No, no,” Hobie instantly shakes his head as he runs his fingers along his dreads, “it’s a fucking coincidence. The gang and I made sure to look into them ‘n everythin’. Think one of them had some personal connection with the bride’s side or sumthin’.”

You let out a low acknowledging hum as you flip through some of the papers. “Hm, yeah, I think one of my colleagues got that written down, but I don’t think they got the full details.”

Your fingers continue to leaf through the paperwork, your eyes downcast to avoid looking at him now. “Did you or any other member find out what the connection was, or if you heard any other conspiracy of another attack from the duo or a key witness at the scene?”

Hobie’s face drops to a pensive frown as his hand reaches up to scratch the scruff of his chin. “According to Stone, I think, his partner used to work for the bride’s father’s research company, and the father laid him off and cut the funding of his lab work or sumthin’. Tryin’ t’ r’member what that company’s called. Sumthin’ Chemical–”

“No, the name is fucking pretentious,” you mutter under your breath as you grab one of the papers and bring it closer to yourself. “Symbi-Ottic Chemical.”

“Yeah, that,” Hobie nods along with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Apparently they had some scandal involving some animal-testing that they had to sweep under the rug. Pinned the blame on the scientist one of the duo, and he wanted some revenge ‘n shit. Petty shit.”

You give another hum of tepid acknowledgement as you grab the rest of the papers on the table and shuffle them, your face reverting back to that impassive deadpan before you stop the recording again. Hobie raises his pierced eyebrow in confusion before you prop your elbows on the table and lean forward.

“This is strictly off the record,” you sigh with reluctance, your fingers fidgeting slightly against each other, “I just came across this information, so not even Captain Stacy and the rest of my team know about this, but…”

Hobie slowly leans forward against the table, waiting for you to continue. You hesitate from his gradual closeness before you glance away and brush it off.

“Symbi-Ottic Chemical is a branching company of Alchemax.”

Hobie’s eyes widen as you continue. “And knowing that Alchemax was a merger between Oscorp and another chemical company, I am merely speculating that the attack at Central Park and Alchemax might be more connected to each other than we both initially thought…”

You shrug while setting the stack of papers down on the table. “I don’t know. I’m just… I doubt this can actually be related to the Sinister Six since Osborn is gone, and I don’t have any conclusive evidence or anything like that, but…I’m trusting you guys could look into that hunch for me, okay?...”

Still reeling from that small revelation, Hobie quietly nods as he grabs his mask from the table. Your eyes glance over at the spiked mask before you shake your head and look away with a huff of disbelief.

“My life’s a fucking comic book.”

“Okay, seriously–”

Hobie stares at you in disbelief while you glare back at him, “No, because this whole–” you gesture to his spider suit in frustration– “costume getup, supervillain attacks and conspiracies, and the whole secret identity - slash - double-life bullshit is getting ridiculous!”

Hobie groans as he rubs his face against his hands before looking back at you with a tired stare. “Y/N, you’re still in law enforcement. You’re still taking care of normal crime shit, not just the metahuman cases–”

“Oh, oh– so I should just get used to stopping some purse snatcher that may or may not have some fucking superpower that could–”

You quickly cut yourself off and hold your hands up in the air, the headache from before gradually throbbing as you take another breather. “I…probably… go through, like, six cups of coffee a night just to go through all the paperwork for these metahuman cases–”

“That is so bad for you, Cherry,” Hobie interjects with a flash of concern in his eyes, not noticing his slip of the tongue, “you could at least call me or something if you’re struggling with that–”

“Oh, what, so you can do your fucking–” you wiggle your fingers in agitation– “spidey hands?!”

Hobie groans into his hands again, his fingers pressing against his eyeballs in frustration as tension builds up in his shoulders. His hands slowly drag down to look at you with a haggard stare. “Look, I- I don’t want to argue with you about this…”

“I joined the forces so I can help people, Hobie,” you cross your arms against your chest as your eyes grow glassy, ignoring the burning sensation rising up in your chest. “I didn’t sign up to deal with the politics between humans and metahumans and the cleanup of the aftermath–”

Hobie swallows down the bile burning the back of his throat as you look away with a sniffle, refusing to look vulnerable in front of him before you look back with a tired look.

“...when Peter and Miles were trying to stop The Sandman from rampaging last week, one of my colleagues and I got hit by a sand attack,” you grumble with a slight flush on your cheeks. “Do you realize how unpleasant it is to get sand out from between your ass cheeks and other crevices in your body after a fucking week?”

Hobie lets out a small huff of laughter in spite of himself before clearing his throat to stifle the rest of the laughter. “I-I can only imagine…”

He continues to look at you, his eyes traveling along your face and body as you sit in front of him. Your dark circles are more prominent to him now, your shoulders tense and in a proper need of a massage, your cuticles picked to hell– god, you picked up your skin picking habit again– and the dimmed light in your eyes. His heart painfully lurches at the sight as his face drops to a pensive frown.

“Look, Y/N, what the hell do you want me to say?” Hobie whispers to you, struggling to keep his voice even. “I’m sorry? I’m sorry that we met? I’m sorry that I fell in love with you? That you fell in love with me? That we got together and I trusted you with my secret and everybody elses’?”

His breath hitches as he continues, the back of his eyes burning while his eyes start to get glassy too. “I’m sorry that when you graduated from the police academy and joined the forces, you got caught up in one of Green Goblin’s attacks and almost died in your first year? I’m sorry that I was stubborn and kept trying to push you to quit when you didn’t want to? I’m sorry that I broke up with you when you kept refusing? That I basically dragged you into this whole thing where you have to be a fucking mediator between the gang and those blue pigs now. That you’ve been talking to Gwen and Miles while avoiding me this whole time for five years even though I gave you a bloody fucking Web-Watch to contact me–”

He quickly looks away to the ceiling, refusing to let the tears in his eyes roll down his cheeks, before he lets out a shaky exhale and looks at you again. His chest aches again at the sight of you shaken up, your own eyes welling up as your face pinches up to fight off your own tears.

“What do you want me to say?” his voice comes out in a defeated, broken whisper. “And please, please, don’t call me Spider-Punk, Spider-Man, and especially Mr. Brown…”

A stray tear rolls off your cheek at his quiet plea, hesitation and longing briefly flickering in your eyes, and you turn your head away to wipe the tear streak off with a sniffle before clicking the play button on the recorder again.

“...Mr. Brown, thank you for your time.”

A sharp sting stabs at Hobie’s chest at your answer, but he reluctantly nods before languidly standing up from his seat and slides his mask back on. “Yeah, sure. I’ll…I’ll give you a ring or have someone else in the gang to, if we find out anything more about your case.”

You nod with a solemn frown as you slowly stand up and shuffle the papers before stopping the recorder one last time. With a heavy heart Hobie starts to walk towards the door, his heavy combat boots echoing against the walls as his body itches to finally leave the stifling interrogation room.

His hand wraps around the cold metal door handle, but before he can pull it open, his ears pick up soft footsteps behind him.

“Hobie…”

You slowly approach behind him, your eyes lingering on the planes of his back, even with the layers of his spandex suit and leather vest covering his towering figure. Memories briefly flicker in your mind, one of a younger, much happier Hobie wrapping his arms around you, peppering kisses against your face until you burst out laughing with him. Ones of him holding onto you as he swings through New York with his web-shooters, both of you flying against the sunset and over the cityscape with adrenaline running through your veins. Ones of the quiet nights in your little crappy one-bedroom apartment where you both fall asleep in each others’ arms after he comes home from patrol, safe and sound and with you–

You swallow down the lump in your throat before you quietly speak again.

“...please be safe.”

For me, you end your last words in your thoughts, not finding the courage to say it out loud after seeing him for the first time in five years.

Hobie stands frozen in front of you, his back still facing you, making you stare at that spider emblem on his vest, his symbol for his role as Spider-Man.

Before you can take it back, he suddenly turns around and pulls his mask halfway up before pulling you closer to him, pressing his lips against your forehead goodbye. He just as quickly pulls away from you and lets go of you before yanking his mask down and slipping out of the interrogation room, leaving you standing there alone stunned and flustered. 

Meanwhile, Hobie rushes out of the police station with a flick of the wrist and a web shooting out of his shooter before he swings off and escapes to the city, his mind racing and his heart thrumming against his ribcage. Depending how the rest of the day goes, he’s either going to be dealing with more silence or an angry/flustered call from a soon-to-be sergeant.

[the-kr8tor]

could i pretty please request ttn!hobie finding out that while she was overseas, r got the nickname MJ? (“i spill a mint julep one time!” or smth). like maybe they’re hanging out with danny and he calls her that or smth, and he’s like “wait a minute, what” and no one knows exactly why hobie is so impacted by that, he just is. like hobie knows that it’s not some sort of cosmic force that keeps them together, but it still makes him a little extra smiley (as always feel free to decline, no pressure) -@thesevenofstaves

Aizjjwisjsjjs this is genius! Thank you for requesting, bestie 💕

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

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw drinking, TTN! Hobie and R, Thread the Needle AU, R has nicknames, fashion designer! Reader, Fluff.

Thread the Needle Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

“So, your girl here straight up tells our supervisor to basically eat a bag of dicks but in a corporate way and you know what fucking happens?” Danny rambles on about your time in the US enthusiastically with him loaded in with a few drinks in his veins. Surprisingly enough, he's still coherent.

The entire pub is abuzz, people clambering around the telly to watch a football game that you care less about. Your glass sits empty in your hand, a cocktail mix that has the lights swirling in your vision. Hobie is doing better than you and Danny combined. He's four whole pints in and yet he's still sober enough to reply in a full sentence without sloshing his words together. But you know he's in too deep when he has basically clung to your side inside the booth like velcro. His hands roam up and down your back, knuckles tracing your spine as you lean closer on the table while your vision swirls. You've once told him that he's a clingy drunk, to which Yuri replied for him, saying, “Is there a difference between a sober Hobie and a drunk Hobie?” He couldn't even retaliate with a clever answer because it's true.

Hobie smiles against the mouth of his glass, fingers drawing patterns on your back. “No, what happened next?” He indulges your drunk childhood friend. He knows the story already, but it was told from your perspective, which you were apparently told too humbly. Meanwhile, you hide your flustered face behind your cool glass.

“She got a bloody promotion! Turns out, it was a fucking test and now she's here and handling her own team!” Danny exclaims above the cheers, still in disbelief at what happened years ago.

“Talk ‘bout lucky, eh, love?” Hobie squeezes your hip, glancing at you with a proud smile. You groan, heat behind your cheeks from the memory.

“You've got lady luck on your side, right, MJ?”

Hobie almost breaks his neck at how fast he turned to look at Danny, eyes wide, hands paused from his squeezing. “What? M.J? I thought you called her Cherry?”

“Oho! Hobie here doesn't know the story, huh?” Danny finishes his drink and then winces when he could only get a single drop. Hobie cranes his neck towards you, eyes soft, arm snaking around your waist slyly. You can practically see his mind running a hundred miles per hour, but you're not sure why. “Be right back, I need a refill.” He stands up, staggering a bit before pointing at you. “MJ for MJ?”

“That was one time, Danny! And no, I'd like a pint.” Your friend cackles, Hobie looks between you and Danny all confused.

“You smoke?” Hobie knits his brows, now he can feel all the alcohol he drank.

You chuckle, thumb wiping along the corner of his mouth to clean a stray foam. “It's a drink, Hobs. Mint julep.”

Danny makes a sound akin to an evil laugh. “You better tell him the story! Another pint for you, mate?”

Hobie doesn't spare a glance towards Danny, his eyes are all on you, staring at you like a lovestruck teenager. “Sure,” Danny shoots him a thumbs up, and then tries to straighten up to walk towards the bar.

“What?” You giggle as Hobie abandons your back to hold your hand over the table, fingers intertwining around your own. “You okay? Are you that drunk?”

“Nah, ‘m fine, tell me the story.”

“Danny hyped it too much, it's not that interesting.”

“Still,” Hobie brings your hand to his chest, holding it with both hands and then kisses your knuckles with his warm lips, leaving it atop his heart. You sigh in content, eyes tender for your best friend. “I want to hear how you become MJ.”

You smile, head leaning down on the backrest of the seat, watching the warm light illuminate his chiseled face. “It was a company-wide holiday party.” Hobie listens, mirroring your position as he places his head on the cushion on the booth, smiling wider and wider at your every word. “And there was an open bar which was a disaster waiting to happen by the way. But they only had three drinks to choose from, and one of them was a mint julep.”

“What were the other choices?” The background noise fades out, as if it was only you and Hobie inside the pub.

You snort, rubbing your thumb across the back of his hand. “I really don't remember.”

“You got too drunk?” Hobie beams at you whilst you groan from the memory. “Really, Gromit? At a holiday party?” He teases you further, nudging you with his knee under the table.

“It tasted nothing like alcohol! It deceived me.”

“Ah yes, mint julep, a very deceivin’ drink. What happened next?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing happened next. I just got too drunk and started to draw designs in my sketchbook in silence. They weren't very good by the way.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Yeah, I know, I'm a genius when it comes to fashion.”

“Not that. Although you're right, love, you're a bloody genius.” You smile brightly, your turn to kiss his knuckles. “But I think there's more to the story.”

You scoff, “nope.”

“I've known you for almost our entire lives.” Hobie comes closer, breath fanning your already warm cheeks, batting his lashes at you. “Did you beat up someone? Cause damage to the building?”

“Hobie!” You slap his bicep, earning a feigned groan from him. “Nothing that bad! I just spilled it all over me.” Hobie raises a brow. “And all over my boss.”

Hobie guffaws, “way to fight the system, lovie.” He kisses your cheek while you wiggle away from embarrassment.

“I had to pay for his dry cleaning, Hobs!” Hobie squishes your face in between his hands, puckering your lips. “Not funny.” Your words are muffled, an adorable sight for him.

“It's a little funny.”

“Fine, a little.” With your words and giggle, he finally lets you go, but of course he had to steal one last kiss on your lips. It's quick, but it still leaves you in a mushy mess on the booth.

“So MJ, huh?” He'd tell you why the simple nickname had his heart palpitating. Once you two got back home, he'd tell you the significance of that name.

“Don't get used to it. Everytime I smell mint I want to vomit.”

Hobie's laughter reverberates in the pub, hand splayed on your back. “Is that why our toothpaste isn't scented?”

Before you could answer, Danny comes back with a tray full of shots and one mint julep.

“Oh dear God.” You and Hobie speak at the same time. Maybe it's time to call it a night for Danny.

[the-kr8tor]

The One Where They Build a Bed

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

Word count: 2.1k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, R has nicknames, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, Thread the Needle oneshot, set during chapter 5, Best friend! Hobie, CW food mentions, FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

Navigation

Buy me a ☕?

A/N: Happy anniversary TTN! 🎉

The floor under you sparkles in the yellow lamps Hobie scattered around the sparse bedroom. Having just moved in, the bedroom is spick and span with it's newly painted dark blue that you and the rest of the band helped paint; albeit there are streaks left on the wall and splotches of paint dotted along the floors. It's a pretty good painting job if you look at it from further away. Hobie doesn't seem to mind though as he busies himself with laying out all the pieces of his new bed frame.

Music filters in from the living room, you got to pick out a record this time since Hobie and the others picked the songs while they were helping around in the houseboat. The rushing of water from outside keeps you awake as you mend another hole in his bedsheet. Hobie notices you blinking away sleep, teasing you with a sudden loud clap near your face.

Laughing, Hobie quickly flinches away before you could grab his hand and take a playful bite just like he predicted. “I knew you'd do that, Gromit.” He turns to the giant box again, hiding his tender smile behind the cardboard box.

“And you're always too quick for me.” You're glad he's turned away from you lest he notices how you look at him like he's everything to you. He is, but he doesn't know that. Not yet anyway.

“Nah, there were a few times you got me.” Hobie heaves the biggest part of the bed, it's a simple dark varnished wood with carved lines along the sides.

You puff out your chest proudly when you remembered the times you bit him after he decided to tease you. “Once during our first summer job at the record store and that one time at that pancake place.”

He sighs, taking out a small toolbox from the almost empty closet. “Now I want flapjacks.”

“We can get some after this.”

Hobie side eyes you with a soft look. “You askin’ me out, Gromit?”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat for a moment whilst his piercings shine in the yellow light. After a moment of slight panic, you flick a roll of thread at him, landing on his foot. “We just ate.”

Hobie chuckles as something flashes behind his eyes. “You were the one who suggested it, love.” He picks up the booklet of instructions, skimming through it before tossing it over his shoulder.

You blink, scoffing. “Wha— we needed that!”

“I read it.” He shrugs, pushing and sliding the tool bag over to you, metal clinking against metal. “Come help me like you wanted to.”

Dropping the bedsheet, you close the small distance over to the tool bag and sitting down cross legged a few paces away from him. “You skimmed it, Hobs.” Stretching, you try to grab the fallen booklet, paper brushing along your fingertips. You struggle to get it while Hobie watches with amusement.

“D’you need help?” His tone is laced with sarcasm.

“Nope, I got…” You finally reach it, grabbing it and sitting back in place. “It!”

“Congratulations.” You roll your eyes. He sits down, hand filled with screws that he places next to him. “Now hand me the screwdriver.”

“Say please.”

Hobie's hand reaches out over to you, fingers flexing, and sighing as he huffs. “...please.”

You tamp down a laugh. “Of course, Hobie. Anything for you, Hobie.” He snatches the tool from your hand with a playful glare. “No thank you?”

He pats the floor next to him, and then he waves the tool in front of his face. “I'll say thank you once you give me the right screwdriver.”

“That's the right screwdriver.” You dig into the bag, exhaling once you see the other tool that matches the screws he's practically shoving in your face. “Fine,” with the right tool in hand, and the bag in the other, you stand up to sit next to him and the piles of wood. You place the screwdriver in his waiting hand, his face is smug as he elbows your arm playfully.

“Thank you, Gromit.” He utters genuinely.

You nudge right back, “you're welcome, Wallace.” Meeting with his eyes, you smile kindly before you return your attention towards the instructions.

You have no idea how you made his heart leap in his chest from the simple look.

“Says here that you should do the legs first before the one you're currently bolting in.” You don't hear him reply nor grunt in return. So you look back at him, missing how he's tenderly gazing upon you when he turns away a second before you could see it. “Hobs, it says here to do the legs first.”

“I know what ‘m doin'.”

“I didn't know you're a bed frame expert.”

He stops his hands, slowly craning his neck to look at you with his nose scrunched. “We just started and we're already arguin’.” Dropping the screwdriver, metal clanging on the hardwood floor, he narrows his eyes. “The curse is right.”

Laughing, you hit his shoulder with the booklet. “What curse?”

“That when friends put together a piece of furniture they end up fightin’ and endin’ their relationship.” Hobie cups your shoulder and tilts his head. After years of friendship, you still have no idea if he's serious or not. “I think you should go home.”

After a second, you make a sound from the back of your throat, shoving his hand away. “That's not real. If anything would've ended our friendship, it would be the time you accidentally wore one of my projects thinking it was one of my jackets only to accidentally spill paint on it.”

“In my defense, I made it better.” He cracks his façade as a smile slowly creeps on his lips.

“Right,” you start to stand up. “I'm going home.” You're completely joking, hiding your smile by turning away.

Hobie grabs your hand, looking up at you through his lashes. “‘m jokin’, please stay.” You surrender, sitting back down with a pout. “See, I told you that it ends relationships.”

“I'm going to end you if you don't stop saying that.” You glare at him, genuinely not wanting to end your relationship with your best friend over a cheaply made bed frame. He understands what you truly meant, and shares the same sentiment.

He grabs your cheeks, squeezing it until you no longer pout but your glare stays as he tries to make it up to you. “It’s a test of our friendship then. But I know we're stronger than this bed frame.”

“A well placed kick on it is stronger than the frame.” You move to bite at his hand once again, but he's again too fast for you as he removes his hands on your cheek. You won't tell him that you wanted his warmth to stay just a little bit longer. “Why'd you even buy it when your mattress is older than the queen herself?” You decide to build according to the instructions while he continues what he wants to do.

“Oi, watch it, I paid good money for this.” The sound of wood clicking together by screws fills the room as waves lap against the sides of the houseboat that rocks back and forth softly. “It's strong, the bloke who sold it to me even jumped up and down to show how strong it is. ‘sides, my old one was being held together by duct tape.”

“Sure, Hobs, I believe the salesman who wanted to make his commission.” You sarcastically say.

“Wanna bet?” His face is suddenly close to you, breath fanning across your cheek. You turn slowly, poking his cheek as he smiles.

“No, because it'll be an easy win for me.”

“We'll test it out then.” He doesn't realize the double meaning of his words once it's already out of his mouth. You do though, judging from how you blink slowly as if you're trying to let the words sink in. And how your lips are slightly parted, to which he flicks his eyes at briefly. “I mean—” He clears his throat, leaning away as your cheeks heats up and his heart thumping loudly that he's sure that you can hear.

“I–I know what you meant, Hobie.” You absentmindedly read the instructions while he mentally slaps himself.

For a while, an awkward silence hangs around the room, stifling Hobie as he works on the next piece of the bed frame. He can't handle it, so to stop the awkwardness, he throws a single screw at you. The metal lands in the middle of the instruction booklet while you were reading how to combine the pieces you and Hobie made.

“What?” You move to stare at him while he whistles innocently, hands busy with a piece of the frame. “Are you bored already?”

“Yeah, because my personal chatterbox stopped talkin'.” He smirks at you, waiting for your reaction.

“Your personal chatterbox has a splinter in her finger.” You fake a frown.

His eyes widen for a moment before scooching closer to take and inspect your hand that you showed him. “Shit, where?” He roams his eyes around your palm, fingers brushing gently along the pads of your fingers. “I don't see it, love.”

You teasingly tilt your head, a smile ghosting over your lips. “It’s there somewhere.”

“Where's the torch—?” He pauses as he hears you snicker. Looking up, he drops your hand but not letting go of it as he sees the mischievous expression on your face. “You little shit.” Grinning, Hobie squeezes your hand once before reluctantly letting go. He looks into your eyes, wanting to say something, anything to keep his mind from wanting to kiss you. For a hot second, you think he's about to say something that you two have been longing to hear. “D’you want tea?”

You exhale, hand placed on his arm like it's magnetic. “Only if you let me help.”

“Good,” he pats the back of your hand where it rests on his arm. “I don't want to dig around my boxes alone.”

‘You’ll never be alone,’ You wanted to say, but you could only stand up, hand reaching down to him as you help him up to his feet.

—

After what seems to be forever, (technically two hours and thirty minutes) the bedframe is finally built. It's bigger than you thought, enough for you and Hobie to comfortably sleep in. You shake the thought out while you wrangle the bedsheet on top of the mattress.

“Catch.” Hobie tosses a pillow with a new pillow case at you, smacking you on the face. “You didn't catch it.” He laughs, the sound echoing around the room.

“Yeah, no shit.” You throw it at the end of the bed, tired and too sleepy to retort something clever.

“I can drive you back to your dorm.” Of course he notices, sitting on the edge of the bed, he slips the end of the bed sheet neatly; finishing up the nicely made bed.

You drop yourself face first on the bed, cheek squished on a pillow. “Too sleepy.” You also don't want to go back home when your unfinished project is waiting for you there.

“Yeah, it's late. D’you want to stay the night?” Hobie lays down next to you, head facing your tired face. “I still have your PJ's from last time.” He's whispering, careful not to turn your fatigue to frustration, especially when you're stressed about your final project.

It's not the first time you and Hobie slept on the same bed, still, it makes your heart jump at thought. “The red checkered pair?” You softly reply back, completely relaxed into the bed.

“I think so, yeah.”

You fight a yawn. “Can I stay? I don't want to intrude. It is your first night here.”

“If its you? Intrude away, love.” His pinky grazes your own, you instinctively lace your finger around his. “Soon, this'll be your place too.”

You beam at him, squeezing his finger, restraining yourself from embracing him. “Okay, I'll stay the night.” The gentle rocking of the houseboat lulls you to sleep.

Patting your hand, he lets go before standing up. “I'll get your pajamas for you—” something hard hits his foot, looking down, he picks up a lone screw. “Ah shit.”

You sit up, elbows propping yourself. “What is it?” You ask blearily.

Hobie guffaws, showing you the screw. “I think we forgot one.”

You can't help but laugh despite the fatigue. He pockets it in his jeans, keeping it safe, a memorabilia of the time you helped him build his bed.

[the-kr8tor]

TTN oneshot request :): reader who's been invited to one of the parties after Hobie's band gigs. Hobie,being his usual teasing self,tries to make r dance with him to one of the songs that come from the speakers but he can't dance at all,so reader ends up teaching him.

-🎸 anon

Ahhh 🎸 anon!! I love this prompt thank you for sending it ��� I changed some things around hope u don't mind ❤️❤️❤️

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

Word count: 1.3k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (r is mentioned to wear makeup though) cw drinking, poop jokes lol, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You lean against a railing overlooking the spacious backyard. Watching Yuri dismiss the third man who tried his luck tonight is better than any cable tv, she scoffs, waving the disappointed man away with her long nails. Yuri notices you giggling by yourself, she beckons you over to the dance floor with a smile. You shake your head with a laugh, gesturing to your half empty cup. She sighs dramatically, miming a crying face. You blame the booze in her system on why she's so lively. It's a nice change though, you love seeing her prance around the dance floor, looking for a more worthy partner.

The bass booms, playing all the classic punk music in the speakers. The sky is dotted with twinkling stars, cool air blowing past the grassy backyard. Roaming your eyes around the venue, you spot James chatting up a familiar figure, his arm slung comfortably around her shoulders. She laughs at something he said, her curls bouncing on her shoulders. You smile softly, happy for them both.

You turn around to face the inside of the ridiculously huge house. The home is packed with bodies bouncing around, the glass shakes from the loud music blaring inside. You see Ned becoming an unwilling bartender, mixing drinks for everyone after he got a particularly nasty bloody mary from someone who's so drunk they shouldn't even be near the kitchen.

With all the people watching you're doing, there's one person you haven't seen in a while. You wonder what he's up to, hopefully not to sneak behind you to carry and throw you into the icy pool—

“You're not very good at sneaking up on me anymore, Hobs”

Hobie groans right behind you, looking over your shoulder, you smirk at him. “How?” He effortlessly lifts himself up on the railing, arms envelope around you, his chin resting comfortably on your shoulder. You help secure him with your hands around his elbows.

“I can sense you a mile away.” You whisper the next part. “I think I got your spidey senses from hanging around you too much”

“You make it sound like a disease!” The alcohol makes him all gooey inside, just for you. “Y’know I have the cure right here”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it then?” Turning around, you face him fully, his arms never leaving your waist whilst your hands never leave his skin.

Hobie points at his lips quickly before he falls on the ground (like you would even let him fall with your hands holding him steady)

“Here”

“Ah! Is your cure tried and tested? Peer reviewed by scientists?”

“Only one way to find out”

You giggle, meeting him halfway to kiss his lips. He tastes of beer and licorice he's been chewing on since you've arrived at his friend's' house. Your hand blindly slides to the back of his neck, fingers scratching lightly. Hobie smiles into the kiss, his hands tucked into the back pocket of your jeans.

Unfortunately, you need air to survive so you reluctantly pull away. He chases your lips making you peck him thrice to ease his suffering from apparent lack of kisses.

“I think I just overdosed on your cure” you hold him close even with the wooden railing between you.

Hobie chuckles, “You'll be fine” he swipes away the sheen left on your lips.

“So considerate. Where have you been, huh?” You lean close to his ear. “Did you go out and fight crime? Are you okay?”

There's goosebumps on his arms, not from the cold. “Nah, I was in the bathroom, taking a huge dump–”

You clasp your hand over his mouth, Laughing through it. “I literally just ate, babe”

“Just answerin’ your question, Gromit. ‘m being honest it was big,” he measures using his hands, “this big. Record size” Hobie loses his grip on the railing, falling flat on his ass.

“Huh, I see a bigger one right here” you look down, seeing him feign offense with his hand clutching his imaginary pearls.

“I should've thrown you in the pool when I had the chance and then we’ll have a floater” he nonchalantly rests on the grass by his elbows. Looking up at you with a smug grin.

You roll your eyes, walking down the steps to help him up before he gets grass stains all over his leather jacket. Hobie clearly doesn't need your help getting up but he would take any opportunity to hold your hand. Your hands are still slightly cool from the drink, a stark contrast to his warm ones, a welcome difference to the both of you.

Heaving him up, Hobie meets you in a tight embrace, smothering you in his hold; you love it though. Slowly he sways you to the beat of a punk song you recognize from back when you and Hobie were in highschool together. A reminiscent of your younger days with only homework and school to worry about and the deep longing you have for your best friend now turned partner.

If only your younger self could see you now, she’d think you did well for yourself. She'd be proud of all the things you've accomplished with the love of your life with you.

“D’you remember this song?” Hobie whispers in your ear, his piercing kisses the shell of your ear.

“How could I not remember?” You lift your head from the comfort of his chest, eyes staring fondly at Him.

He chuckles, you feel the happiness vibrate from him. “Yeah, but d’you know the backstory?” you shake your head.

“I requested this song to the bloke who was holding us hostage with his shitty songs.” You chortle, Hobie continues his story. “I had to bribe the wanker,” he sighs. “So I could ask you to dance with me.”

Your eyes soften, heat behind your sockets, your hold on him tightens.

“Then I realized I can't fuckin’ dance and I'll make a bloody fool of myself in front of you. So I let the music play and continued to talk to you throughout the party because that was enough for me.” He pauses, your eyes are glossy, glimmering under the porch lights. “Being with you was enough.”

You feel the tears fall so you hide your face on his chest once again, feeling sorry for soaking his shirt, you let your hug tell your feelings.

“Don't hide from me right after I poured my heart out to you.” He laughs, his fingers spread across your nape, rubbing softly, finding you endearing. “C’mon, I need to see my Gromit”

You look up with red eyes, mascara and eyeliner smudged. “Fuck you” you say with tears on your cheeks, trying to sniff it away. But your wide smile and grip on his shirt tells your true feelings. “You're such a little shit”

Hobie laughs loudly, fingertips cleaning away smudged makeup. “Yeah, yeah, but you love this little shit”

You lean up to kiss him, as gentle as he holds you, as affectionate as he loves you.

Sighing, you cup his face. “I do, so much.”

He presses your foreheads together, enough to make tears escape your eyes once again. Hobie's fingers catch them, wiping it away from your skin.

“If you let me teach you will you ask me to dance with you?” Whispering, you loop your arms around his neck, swaying with the beat.

“I might be a lost cause, love.”

“I'm patient, don't worry” you can't seem to keep your lips away from him as you kiss the corner of his lips.

Hobie suddenly pulls away, leading you towards the makeshift dance floor. “Alright then, no time to lose!”

You let him guide you, laughing all the way. He shimmies on the dance floor, long limbs flailing about, eyes staying on you.

You've got your work cut out for you.

[the-kr8tor]

Babies first graffiti 🥹🥹 WONDJSJXJWXQOKSKWD I LOVE THEM SM MY BABIES!!!!!!!! Their clothes look so gorgeous! I bet (ttn) r made them for her girls 🥰🥰🥰 I love their hair and their little earrings ahhhhhhhhh ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Now where did they get that book I wonder 🤔 (it was definitely one of their uncles who gifted it to hobie when they were born and now they found it in his bookshelf 🤣🤣) They're a menace like their dad!! And we love them for it!!

Lil anarchy babies look how cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺

I'm so proud of them 🥺🥺

@the-kr8tor was it worth the wait 😈😈

HOBIE WOULD BE PROUD OF THEM TOO

Look at their lil outfits 🥺 Mona's lil bow

And Billie with paint all over her face 🤦‍♂🤦‍♂

MY BABIES

[the-kr8tor]

Im all good to put the ideas into multiple asks! I’m so glad u liked my ideas 🥰🥰!!

First one was TTN hobie and reader when they have reunited and they r going on a date after being separated for so long and just spending time together and hanging out

-🕊️ anon

Ly 😘 thank you again for the ttn requests!! ❤️

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

Tags: no use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader, drinking, a bit suggestive, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, set after the epilogue.

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN Oneshots Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"My favourite? Piña Colada" you nurse a cranberry vodka in your hand, voice whispering in Hobie's ear so that he can hear you through the loud chatter inside the busy pub.

Your back is resting on the chipping wooden wall of the ancient White Horse pub, body fully turned towards Hobie, your hand comfortably lying on the small of his back. He practically squishes you inside the booth with his arm around your shoulder, fingers absentmindedly kneading over your nape. Legs touching yours, a smile never leaving his lips, half full pint forgotten in front of him.

He would've preferred a much quieter place for your first date back home, but you wanted to visit his old haunts, and you were in a drinking mood. Hobie doesn't seem to care though, as long as you're with him, he's golden. Even if you suggested going to the sewers or God forbid a Mall, he would've said yes in a heartbeat. Because it's you, fresh from L.A. you who haven't finished unpacking yet even though you've been home for three days. He doesn't blame you though, how could you find the time to unpack when you two are busy snogging and reacquainting yourselves.

"Thank fuck" he chuckles. "Thought it would be worse like a can of whatever piss water they 'ave"

You roll your eyes, "Piña Colada is really good. I can make you one if you like"

"Sure, as long as it's not whiskey sour" Hobie mimics an American accent with his last word causing you to laugh out loud above the prattle of the pub.

"Do that again" you poke his side. "Come on"

"Fuck off, that's a one time thing" he hides his smile with his pint.

"You know back in America I had so many pints, it's insane" He raises a brow, knowing you're not much of a drinker. You continue on with your sentence. "Pints of ice cream"

"Is it too late for you to go back? Because I can ask for you–"

Leaning slightly, you kiss the corner of his lips as an apology for your attempt at humour. "I know, horrible joke. I blame the drink"

"Not the company though, right?" He says against your lips, long eyelashes fanning over eyes, looking down at your besotted face.

"Great company, ten out of ten" you press a cranberry filled kiss fully on his lips, lingering for only a moment. In that tiny booth with the squeaky leather cushions, you feel like you and Hobie are the only people in the world. "What do you say we go home." Whispering, you bat your eyelashes at him.

His eyes sparkle in the low light, "And?"

You don't miss his knowing tone so you decide to tease him more. "Or we can go to my office and ask for me to get transferred back to L.A."

"I like your first joke better, too soon, love" Hobie dramatically touches his chest like he's been hurt.

"You did it first!" You finish your drink, hand grabbing your bag from the table.

"And I did it better than you" Hobie takes your coat for you, standing up, reaching to help you out the booth.

Looking up at him, you smile mischievously. "Do an American accent first"

He rolls his eyes, "no" flexing his fingers, he feigns annoyance.

"Please? Just say one thing and I'll get up"

With a huff and a hidden smile, he surrenders. "Whiskey sour" Hobie does his best impression of an American man who's impatient to get his drink from the bartender.

Giggling, you still sit in the booth. "Say 'wassup, dude'"

"Don't push it, love or I'll start calling you bruv again"

Sliding out, you take his outstretched hand. "If you're into that then I'm open to try it." You laugh at your own quip.

"What have they done to my Gromit?" hand in hand, you and Hobie weave through the crowd whilst he guides you with his tender hold.

You snuggle closer to him, avoiding a guy with ten drinks on his tray. "Same Gromit, I promise"

"Love you still even if you weren't" He whispers back with fondness.

[the-kr8tor]

TTN hobie and reader where reader is back from LA and hobie is showing her his spider powers. I think it would be interesting to see r’s reaction to seeing them irl and not just on a tv across the other side of the world 😭

Also I can’t remebr my exact wording of my requests from when I wrote them the first time so I hope these match up well with the ones from before 😅

-🕊️ anon

Thank you for another TTN request! ❤️

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

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, FLUFF.

Thread the Needle Masterlist

TTN oneshots

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

"Have to tell you somethin'" Hobie suddenly pipes up while you two are comfortably cuddling on the couch, watching some action movie that you've grown to actually like despite the crazy plot and mid acting. He hasn't been paying close attention to it, how could he when his secret gnaws at the back of his head?

"Hmm?" You look up from where you're resting your head on his chest, hand splayed over his abdomen where his shirt has ridden up. He doesn't mind that you're basically groping the muscles underneath since he's doing the same thing to the soft skin of your hip.

The TV's light shines on the side of your face, he takes you in, inhaling sharply, Hobie cups your chin, getting your attention. "Need to tell you somethin'" he emphasizes.

"Okay" you sit straight at his sudden serious tone, different from the flirty tone he sported a few minutes ago.

"I'm Spider-Man"

"Oh" you hold your chest in relief. "I know, Hobs" your voice is full of affection and fondness for the man before you, holding and kneading at his shoulder blade in an attempt to calm his fast heartbeat.

Hobie's eyes grow wide, he watches you in awe for figuring it out. He lays his forehead over yours in relief, relieved that you took the revelation well. There's always that gut feeling from Hobie that you've always known, you chose to wait for him to tell you himself. He's grateful for you, for waiting and staying with him even after keeping it a secret from you.

You can't blame him though, he just doesn't want you to worry. Love does that sometimes.

"And here I thought you would scream in surprise" Hobie pulls away, heart eyes staring back at his best friend.

"Do you want me to? I could still do that" you inhale like you're readying yourself to yell. Hobie lets you act surprised, your voice echoing out in the dark, louder than the TV's volume. "O.M.G!" He rolls his eyes with a smile. "You're the Spider-Man? The same one from the telly?! Oh the act of betrayal the backstabbing hurt"

You put the back of your hand over to your forehead like a silent film actress in distress. "Hobie?! The same Hobie that I've loved since childhood is a vigilante?! Oh my word! How could I not foresee this?!" Cupping his face for emphasis,"oh! My heart!" You act better than the actors on the screen, earning a deep laugh from Hobie.

"Alright, got it. You figured me out" Hobie stops your oscar worthy performance with his hand covering your mouth.

You lick his hand in retaliation. He snaps his hand back, wiping your drool over the blanket spread over your laps.

"I know you, Hobie. The second they got footage of you I knew it was you. I mean, you were wearing the vest I made you!" You chuckle. "I know every stitch and indents on that bad boy" poking his chest, you sigh, catching your breath.

Hobie smiles, "still, should've told you sooner. Didn't want you to worry"

"It comes with the territory of loving you, can't avoid worrying about you all the time." Your heart clenches at the thought of him getting horribly injured. "Back in L.A everytime the mail's late I worry, everytime I see you on the telly swinging, beating the crap out of a would be villain, I worry. That's my job and I've accepted it the moment I fell for you."

Hobie holds you tighter, listening in with bated breath. "Spider-Man's a part of you, and I love every bit of you. I won't stop you from doing it, just come home to me every night. That's all I ask. I'll support you however I can"

"That's all I need," Hobie pressed a heavy kiss on your lips, you barely felt the single tear rolling on your cheek. "Love you"

"Love you too." You sniff, peppering his cheek with numerous kisses. "Thank you for telling me" you snuggle deeper by his side. He replies with a kiss on the crown of your head. "Because I've got some suit ideas that I've been holding on to for so long!"

You stand in awe, eyes still staring at the remote in his hand. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that, but I can try"

"Yeah? You've got sketches of 'em?"

"Yep! I'll just shut the telly off and I'll show it to you properly" you stand up to grab the remote from the coffee table. Hobie beats you to it, aiming his hidden webshooters from under his sleeve, he webs up the device, bringing it towards him.

"You'll love this then" Hobie webs up your waist, you twirl around until you land on his lap. He catches you swiftly as you get acclimated from the dizziness.

You laugh giddily, "Heard you can stick to walls too" holding his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. Hobie squeezes it thrice.

He guffaws, slotting his face right on the crook of your neck. "I'll show you everything"

[the-kr8tor]

ohhh also TTN!Hobie request if you’re up for it: R runs into him as Spider-Punk for the first time and decides to shamelessly flirt with him. Up to you if Hobie knows that R knows or not.

(i kinda took it as a hobie doesn’t really hide it from R but doesn’t say it either situation, but I might have misread it lol)

AHHH I LOVE THIS PROMPT SM! 😘 thank you, bestie!! ❤️

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

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the Reader ( Hobie is mentioned taller than her though), CW canon typical violence, TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, Fluff.

TTN oneshots Masterlist

Set before this fic, but could be read as a standalone.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The toddler squirms in Hobie's hold, crying and soaking his leather vest. Swinging quickly yet carefully, Spider-Man makes his way back towards the child's mother whilst avoiding the fire blasting from the apartment building. Flames lick at his back, soot covering his suit, turning it slightly grey. He can already imagine the look on your face once you see his vest looking like someone tried to cook it.

Landing gracefully on the sidewalk, the boy's mother weaves through the panicked crowd trying to get to her son. Hobie quickly hands the child in her arms and they reunite. The boy clings to his mother with a tight grip, still wailing from the fear shaking his tiny body.

"Thank you!" She says through tears in her eyes.

"Be good, little man" Hobie nods, sighing in relief, web aimed towards a skyscraper to swing to another incident he heard through one of the police car's radios.

Swinging into action, his eyes darted downwards towards the street. The crowd parts for a man running at full speed, dressed in a dark hoodie, clutching a handbag that's clearly not his. Hobie knits his brows when the robber pushes someone hard on the ground. Thankfully another person helped them up, seeing them unscathed, Hobie continued the chase.

Diving down, Hobie extends his long legs aiming directly towards the man's back. He lands face first on the pavement, knocked out and unconscious. Hobie hops off the criminal's back, picking up the fallen bag to give it back to the owner that's surely not far behind.

"Thank fuck!" A familiar voice heaves behind him. "Hell, give me a minute" trying to catch your breath, hands on your knees for a respite.

Hobie whirls around, the eyes of his mask as wide as dinner plates, now realizing why the handbag was so familiar. His tongue already forming your name, he stops himself from uttering it by biting his tongue.

You stand up straight, grin widening as you see your roomate saving the day once again. Albeit literally this time instead of finding your coat for you or fixing you breakfast before you wake.

Hobie doesn't know that you've figured out he's Spider-Man, you intend to keep it that way until he decides to tell you.

"Hi" you say breathlessly, eyes already roaming for injuries, only finding his suit covered in ash and in need of a repair, especially his vest. You ignore your ruined handiwork for now.

Hand reaching out for Hobie, you stop yourself from hugging him with the excuse of taking your bag back. You are in public after all.

"Thank you, Spider-Man" winking, you don't miss the opportunity to tease him and make the Spider-Man flustered.

Hobie rolls his eyes under the mask, but you know the movement all too well with how he slightly tilted his head. Coming to a stop in front of him, so close that the tips of your heels kiss his steel toed boots. His chest heaving up and down from the adrenaline. The spikes on his head glimmer in the sun as he moves his head to peek back at the robber, just in case he already woke up. But you know the truth, he has no idea how to act, hiding it from you and the crowd. He can't reciprocate without compromising your relationship and risk letting his secret out before he could tell you. So he has no choice but to take it. You absolutely know this but of course you won't go too far.

You tilt your head as cute as you can, eyelashes batting at him, lips curling into a mischievous smile. Hobie's hand twitches briefly and instinctively trying to reach for yours. The crowd looks on, thinking another fan is trying to flirt with their resident friendly neighborhood spidey.

Slowly and painfully reaching towards his hand, you slide it down at the last minute, pinky only grazing his glove, but enough to make electricity appear on his skin. You take your bag back, the handle still being held by Hobie, in some sort of pseudo hand holding, you both hold onto it, still looking at him teasingly. You can only imagine his face underneath, oh you'll give anything just to see it right now.

"How can I ever thank you?" You say sweetly, the same voice you use when you two are alone at home.

If the circumstances were different he would've said 'I can think of a way' instead, he grunts in reply, making you snort in return. Hobie refrains from talking, if he talks you'll identify his voice in a heartbeat even if he tries to mask it by making it a pitch higher, he's sure you'll know it's him.

Standing on your tiptoes, you stabilize yourself with your hand over his chest, you can feel his heartbeat slowing down underneath. You smile, giving him a quick kiss on his cheek.

"There, a proper thank you" your breath fans his clothed cheek. A way for you to show him you support him being Spider-Man. Hobie would feel a twinge of jealousy if it was another bloke's cheek on your lips right now but him and Spider-Man are one and the same. He stops himself from leaning into your lips.

Hobie's stomach is in knots, his gut telling him you know about his secret. He lets go of your purse, palm cupping your elbow in an attempt to give you his own affection, albeit a small action compared to the usual.

Pulling away, you smile fondly at him, a secret shared between you. Hobie decides there and then to reveal to you his other identity when he gets home. You deserve to know, he loves you too much to keep that part of his life hidden from you.

Hobie watches you walk away, reminiscent of you in the airport just before you moved away. You chose not to look back that time, because if you did, you would've stayed.

This time, you look over your shoulder, waving with a smile. Not a goodbye like last time. A promise you'd see him at home.

[the-kr8tor]

I love it sm! And your art style is to die for!!

Lmaooo opin hobie noooo bdas hobie is sensitive abt his hair! They peeled him dude that was traumatic af! Watch Opin Hobie whip out his own gun tho thinking that bdas hobie wanted to show him his gun 😂 dw they're good now and they're comparing fight stories lol

I can imagine b and r running around flapping their arms while hobat flies overhead!

Nooo the poor babies!

Awwweee what a cute sight!!! Ttn r sees the pic and goes "is that your dad?" 😂

They're so precious!!! Fae Hobie makes them flower crowns!! And ofc the bouquets they asked for

BAHAHHAHAHAHHA exactly me with one hand videoing the incident while the other is holding the bucket of popcorn

Thank you again, my love! You're too kind to me 🩷

🌸 Happy Anniversary-BDAS!Hobie

“You DARE question my hair…COWBOY?!”

que “Il Vento D'oro” by Yugo Kanno here

finally finished the first one LMAO

opin!hobie in the next one is gonna be like: "FOR THE LAST TIME, THIS ISN'T ABOUT THE HAIR!1!!111! And at LEAST I'm even able to put on my HAT!"

and then dad!hobie's gonna be like: "guys! think of the children!!" *already getting ready to disarm them with his webs*

older!hobie: "i think we should all just calm down. this is supposed to be a fun, celebratory event for katy-"

"shhhhh! it's getting to the best part!" -vamp!hobie with popcorn and then he looks at his camera crew: "you're getting this, right? since you guys wanted to BE here so badly, make sure to get every shot so i can have entertainment later.

“i GOTTA take pictures and videos to show y/n! and that vampire dude looks sick. i’m gonna have them make me a design off this!” ttn!hobie (somewhere in the back eating food)

fae!hobie: *was peacefully decorating the “ball” place with more flowers and is now having a similar idea as dad!hobie, thinking of a way to disarm them with his vines*

spy(?)!hobie: *silently watching from a distance*

based off the fanfics made by @the-kr8tor ! please support her and read her fanfics because they are literally to DIE for.

happy anniversary even though im technically late <3

[the-kr8tor]

TTN hobie and reader during the middle/end of TTN when they r together but before she leaves for LA and r is helping hobie finish setting up his boat and r adding all of her belongings around the house before/while she moves in

-🕊️ anon

Hihihihi Thank you for the lovely request! TTN! Hobie has my heart ❤️

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

Tags: TTN! Hobie, TTN! Reader, kissing, suggestive content. Story is set before the epilogue and in the middle of chapter 10. Spoilers for thread the needle. Fluff.

Thread The Needle Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You didn't waste any time moving in with Hobie. No slowly leaving your things around the house, no slyly stashing your clothes right next to his, not even waiting for the day of your graduation. You and Hobie just decided on a date to move all your belongings to his boat and did it, no side stepping, no dilly dallying, no excuses. Just you and Hobie making round trips from your dorm to the houseboat, arms full of boxes and heavy bags.

The sewing machine was the challenge, being heavy and clunky. Yuri was kind enough to lend you her car for the day, but couldn't help you in moving since she had to study for a quiz. You were kind of thankful for that though, now you have more time to spend with just him and piles and piles of your belongings. Still, with the help of Yuri's beetle, it took two trips of packing and unpacking your stuff.

Hobie never complained nor huffed at the effort, eyes always on your form, arms at the ready to lift boxes for you. You're eternally grateful, that's probably why you're snogging him on the floor of his boat instead of setting up your sewing machine or unpacking your suitcases.

"I need" kiss "to" kiss "unpack." You say in between smacking of lips. Giggling, as if you're not the one instigating the kiss. Back on the hardwood floor, arms looped around his neck, your palm spread over his nape. You resist the urge to glue him into place with your legs, instead you lay limp under him. Eyes tightly closed, smiling through it all.

His strong arms lift him up for a moment before examining your flustered face, beaming up at him. Hobie tilts his head, contemplating if it's worth leaving your arms so you two could unpack. He weighs the pros and cons, deciding.

"Nah" you squeal when he comes back down, expertly moving his lips against yours, every curve and plushness of it already memorized. He knows what to do to incite that sound you make just for him.

You laugh loudly when he presses the soft skin just over your rib cage, ticklish, you pull away with a giggle. Pupils blown out, you stare at his equally large pupils. Breathing heavy, you pinch his nose as revenge.

He surrenders, coming down from the high of kissing you. Eyes roaming around his, no, yours and his living room full of your stuff littered around the place. The kitchen island with your Gromit mug that you claim to despise even though you always use it. Next to it is your school bag, pins and patches decorate the backpack, some of them you've nicked from Hobie.

On the floor next to you are boxes full of your projects, hours upon hours of hard work inside. You giddily showed it all to him before you ended up on the floor from teasing him too much. Clothes and pieces of cloth were put back hastily inside the box just before you descended on the floor. With Hobie's hand placed on the back of your head so you don't smack it against the wood.

After a minute of staring and your laugh bouncing off the walls, Hobie finally speaks, with the full intention of actually starting the process of unpacking.

"Where to first? I could set up the machine–"

"Bedroom" you say with a not so sly smile, half lidded eyes staring at him with fondness.

He blinks in surprise, a low groan in his throat, smirk playing on his kiss bitten lips. "No time to waste then" lifting you up effortlessly, you hide your victorious laugh over his skin. Face hot on his neck. Equally hot hands on the back of your thighs, making sure you don't fall.

Hobie practically jogs over, kicking the door open. It hits the wall with a slam, he stops in his tracks after seeing more piles of boxes on his bed.

Guess you two actually needed to unpack beforehand, whoops.

A/n: Will be posting more of these separate from fluffy fridays! Thank you for reading! ❤️

[the-kr8tor]

Thread The Needle One shots

A Masterlist containing TTN extras/ one shots from readers and me bc we all miss the pining idiots.

Navigation

🧵Thread the Needle Masterlist🪡

💌 -- request 🍒 -- a drabble from me

Winter One shot 💌

Moving in 💌

Hobie tells her he's Spider-Man 💌

You run into Spider-Man for the first time 💌

First date since you've been back with Hobie 💌

Hanging out with the spider trio 💌

After party with Hobie 💌

Holiday dinner with Hobie and the band 💌

Visiting Aunt Janet after you get back home 💌

TTN Hobie and TTN r reveals to Janet their not- so- secret secret. 💌

Autumn of '88 (prequel) 🍒

Hobie is dumbstruck by your new nickname 💌

The one where they build a bed - 🍒 ttn one year anniv fic

[the-kr8tor]

Holdonholdonholdon...before everyone jumps me, I give you this as an apology gift.. Daily Hobie HC! Flirtatiously flirty friends to lovers. My PERSONALLY most relatable trope..muehehe Hobie and you have obviously been crushing on each other for a while, to the point where everyone in the friend group has been routinely checking each other for gray hairs due to the stress of the two of you not confessing. Hobie planned the entire thing the moment he knew you shared the same feelings. Play dumb until something happens, and it works. The many times Hobie has slowly slid his arms around your middle, his voice low as he murmurs flirtatious remarks into your ear until you both start giggling, desperately trying to play it off cool. Hobie's more touchy with you, with an arm slung around your shoulder pulling you closer, or keeping his fingers looped into your beltloops, or just putting his hand into your pockets. Once, at a sleepover, when everyone collectively decided to fall asleep, Hobie sneaked his way over into your bed, his chest pressed against your back and an arm around your middle as he dozes off, without awareness that you're still awake. During playfights, its usually a battle of who will pin the other person first. Sometimes, Hobie decides to pin you underneath him, leaning down to say with a smooth voice about how nice you look underneath him, causing you to roll your eyes with an uncontrollable smirk, ignoring the butterflies erupting in your stomach Other times, you come out victorious on top, making the same remark with a hum at the end, which has Hobie's stomach knotting. He refuses to let you realize your effect on him, playing it off with a mischievous scoff. On many occasions, you both had to prevent yourselves from bursting out laughing at the group's reaction upon sharing spoons so casually. At times, Hobie will just take your spoon and eat the contents of your food, not afraid to spare you a little wink if you meet his eye while doing so. Butterflies immediately for you. Another common thing was lollipops. It was rare to not see Hobie with a lollipop, due to his sugar cravings and the fact it was a pretty good snack in his eyes. More than once, you've reached over and snatched the lollipop right from his hand, quickly popping it into your own mouth with a smirk. Butterflies immediately for him. One thing Hobie loved doing while he was being 'flirtatiously flirty' with you, as you both called the situation, was to randomly bury his face into your neck or hair and comment on the nice scent, which immediately made your knees weak. After almost a couple of months of this, you finally gave in one day, pressing your lips, unable to control the small smile gracing your lips through the kiss. However, when you pulled away, a lovestruck expression present on your face, you weren't expecting Hobie to look so adorably flustered. His eyes were wide and his grip on your hips became more firm. He was frozen for a few moments. Hobie acts all confident as he flirts with you, but the moment you kiss him for the very first time, he's heavily flustered, desperately trying to play it off cool, yet he knew you can see through his facade. -🐦‍⬛

... apology accepted

Daily Hobie HC ‼️‼️‼️

Ahh if only I can flirt back without stuttering over all the words lol

WIXBJWJSBNE I'M IN LOVE WITH THIS (literally ttn hobie and r if r was a more confident flirt!)

Lmaoo at their friends getting grey hair bc of them 😆

They're both so stubborn!!! But one little slip of the tongue from either one of them that they like the other back but not as friends I know they'll be smooching immediately

Once they're finally together their friends will sigh in relief until they get caught up with all their lovey dovey shit and now hobie and r are ten times more flirty with each other without an ounce of shame. Their poor friend grp lol

[the-kr8tor]

BESTIE! i missed you, i was waiting for your reaction 🤣

The band was ready to throw hands lol

That's why r kissed him on the cheek just to get rid of that lip stain very subtly 😜

Lace

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

Word count: 4.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Cursing, CW spiders, TW Arachnophobia, TW violence, CW injury, angst, fluff.

My Navigation

Thread the Needle Masterlist

CHAPTER 6 >>> CHAPTER 7

Your pulse thumps loudly against your skin, swallowing a lump in your throat, you bravely make your way towards your friend. That word hangs loosely in the balance, you have no right to get mad at Hobie, he has no obligation towards your feelings whatsoever. Especially that you've never voiced how much you like him, no how much you came to love him.

You've never exactly pinpointed the time or event that made you love your best friend, but you know deep inside that you have. Whether it was platonic before or romantic after a few years of knowing him. You know that you've loved the same man for years. That's why it hurts so much that he's been ogling the unknown woman in his presence. Hands tucked inside the pockets of his leather jacket, he watches her through half lidded eyes, a smile curling around his lips.

The woman's giggle cuts you like a rusty knife, leaving you bleeding and doubting everything. Doubting all the soft touches and lingering gazes from Hobie all those years of hanging out with him. Maybe you are delusional, your lovesick brain making you think and imagine that a man like him could ever love you back.

You hate yourself for being jealous, the big green monster rearing its ugly head. Whispering and gnawing at your shattering heart. Trying to tamp down the ugly thing, cageing it inside your chest like a feral animal, you exhale a shaky breath. Eyes growing glassy at the sticky kiss she leaves on Hobie's cheek. The large Oscorp museum looms behind the stage, casting a large shadow on the couple, as if the building's hiding them from you, mockingly adding to your pain.

Weaving through the crowd, you catch the last bit of their conversation.

"I'll see you at the after party, right, Hobs?" Her voice is sweet yet it sounds like nails on a chalkboard when she calls him 'Hobs'.

"Sure, Lacey," his voice monotone, "go, we're almost on." Hobie nods at her.

'Lacey' winks at him, giving him a flirty smile, waving goodbye. Her long curls bouncing as she walks away.

Hobie notices someone staring, he cranes his neck, squinting, instantly grinning when he spots you. "Oi! There you are! You're late. Nice boots, are they new?"

You clear your throat, blinking away the tears threatening to spill over. "Yeah" walking closer to him, you give him enough space. Far enough for him to not be able to hold you.

Hobie notices your downturned gaze, "you okay–"

"You made it!" Yuri appears from behind, bounding towards you for a hug. "Look at our lucky charm! Lookin' pretty as always" she holds you at arms length. Giving her the best smile you could muster.

Ned and James join her side, "nice shoes!" Ned exclaims, bass strapped on his back.

"'ave you been cryin'?" James asks, concerned. He (unfortunately for you) noticed your glassy eyes.

"What?" You chuckle softly "No, I had to run here, the wind whipped at my face" trying to save face.

"You sure it's not allergies? Pollen count is at an all time high today" James adds, nodding.

"You learned that at your da's radio show?" Ned teases. James shoves him.

"I'm fine, it's nothing" you shrug, it's not nothing, your heart feels like it's been run over by a train.

"You sure you're okay?" Hobie finally chides in, closing in the distance you've put out. Intertwining your pinkies together.

To Hobie's dismay, you pull away a second later, "yeah, good luck. I'll be in the crowd" you give the band a double thumbs up, "you guys better win!" Trying to sound cheerful.

"Hell yeah, we will!" James pumps his fist in the air for added effect.

You walk away, trying to get in front of the stage for a better view of the show, pushing past the crowd, some seem to be too out of it to notice you. Spotting the familiar curls, you stop in the middle of the crowd that's packed together like sardines. Lacey laughs with her friends, hyping them up, drinks in hand, singing a familiar song.

The lights turn to a different color, red enveloping the stage. You feel like you're underwater, the loud noises muffled in your ears. You can barely hear the announcer introducing the band, eyes fixated towards Lacey, she throws a flying kiss towards the stage. You don't have to look at who the recipient was.

Guitar riffs ring out, Hobie's band starts playing their song, the crowd suddenly rushes in, trying to get to the front of the stage, trapping you. Bouncing around dancing bodies, you can't get out of the wild crowd, some noticing you trying to get out, they move and part for you. But some are way too into it to notice you.

"Excuse me, please! Fuck!" You yell out. A stray elbow hitting you right on your eye. The smacking sound rings in your ears, hand nursing the injury. A hand flings to your cheek, backhanding you. "Fuck!"

"Oi oi, stop! y/n!" Hobie's voice echoes around the venue, you deduce that he grabbed the mic from Ned. The band stops playing.

Half of the crowd doesn't stop, still jumping and bouncing around, guessing they've probably snuck in liquor. You ping pong around sweaty bodies, The only thing you could do was try to protect your head with your arms. Closing your eyes.

"Hoy! Fuckers! He said stop!" Lacey's voice screams out, trying to push past the mass. You can barely hear her through the blood rushing in your ears.

A strong yet familiar arm wraps around your shoulder, looking up you see Hobie arguing with a stranger.

"What the fuck! I said stop! Were you dropped on your head?!" He shoves the man away. Pointing at another trying to argue back. "Fuck off!" He lets go of you, shoving the other with force.

"Hey mate, if she can't handle it, maybe–" The man slurs his words, he couldn't finish his sentence, his face connecting with your knuckles. He should be glad that it wasn't Hobie's or else he would have his rings embedded in his jaw. The man keels over, sobering him up in an instant, groaning in pain.

Hobie looks at you in shock, you look at the men like you want to rip them apart.

Everything crushes you, the weight and pressure of your project, expectations from your family, your love for him. Every insecurity seeps out of your bones, drowning you in its disgusting waters.

You throw your anger at the first thing you see.

"You fucking wanker!" You seethe, your eyes darken, the strangers bear the brunt of your anger. "Stop means stop motherfucker!"

Hobie holds you back, if he doesn't you'll get kicked out of the event, "holy shit" your fist held up, ready to strike again.

You push him off, eye stinging in pain. Huffing, You give the men one last angry glare before stomping away from the crowd, too angry to care that you have an audience. Hobie follows closely behind, calling your name urgently.

"What?!" You turn sharply, the skin around your injured eye slowly turning into a darker color.

"Are you okay?" He asks, hands ghosting over your closed fists.

"Stop asking me if I'm okay, Hobart! Do I look like I'm fucking okay?!" You yell, frustrated, wincing at the pain in your socket. "Fuck!"

Your heart aches when you fight with him, moreso when you yell at Hobie. You're angry but not at Hobie, you're mad at yourself, mad that you've read his love for you as romantic, angry that you never told him how you feel. Furious at your jealousy.

One word stays in your mind, your own voice screaming it out like bloody murder: Coward.

"Love" he says softly, hands wrapping around your tightly closed fists, your nails digging into your palms leaving half moons on the soft skin. Hobie slowly unclenches your fists for you, fingers opening up yours. "You need ice over that, I'll bring you to the first aid station and–"

"You don't have to, just go. Get back on stage" you pull your hands away from him, clenching your hands into fists again.

"y/n, you might be concussed–" Hobie stares at you, concerned.

"Go" you sniff. "I'll go there myself" turning your back on him, Hobie watches you walk away.

—

The first aid station sits further away from the stage, the loud sounds can still be heard from where you're sitting inside the large tent. Cheers echoes out, prompting you to close your eyes at the booming sound.

The frozen ice pack melts in your hand, condensation dripping down on your arm. Your eye socket stings even with the pain meds the nurse gave you. Your head feels like it's trying to escape your skull. Sitting on the plastic chair, elbows propped on your thighs, biting the inside of your cheek when you hear your friends asking for you.

Scooching away from their line of sight, hiding behind a water cooler, you try to make yourself small. You groan when you hear the nurse tell them your location. Your anger has finally subsided, embarrassment replacing it.

Maybe you should've left when you had the chance.

Feet shuffle their way towards you, staying put, staring at the grey concrete, shoes fill your vision. Yuri breaks the silence.

"You've got a mean right hook, remind me to never piss you off"

You don't answer glaring at their shoelaces. The water from the ice pack drops on the concrete, painting it darker.

"Bloody hell, give her some room" Hobie arrives at your side, gesturing for them to give you space.

Hobie crouches down, leveling with your down turned stare. Grabbing the not so frozen ice pack from your hand carefully, avoiding touching your hand, in case you don't want to be touched. He stares at your black eye with concern.

"I made you all lose didn't I?" You stare up at your friends, avoiding Hobie's brown eyes.

"We got third place, I don't count that as a loss. It's better than we hoped for anyway" Ned looks at you apologetically.

"Right, not your fault." James adds. "Competition's hard, love"

"You're just saying that, if Hobie didn't interrupt by saving me, you would've won"

"If Hobie didn't jump in I would've jumped after you instead" Yuri chides in, pocketing her drumsticks.

"Me too" Ned says.

"Me three" James raises his hand, "Hobie just beat us to it" he shrugs.

"Still, I'm sorry," saying it softly. You don't miss the way they avoided asking you if you're okay.

"You're the one with the black eye" Hobie stands up, "can I talk to you?" He asks.

"We'll see you later, yeah?" Ned places a comforting hand on Hobie's shoulder. "As for you," Ned looks at you, "you've got my number, call me whenever or better yet visit me sometime"

You manage to crack a small smile, "I will" you stand up, giving him a hug, squeezing your friend. "Richmond's only an hour away" letting him go, you give him a sad smile.

"That's right, I'm only an hour away" Ned pats your shoulder.

Yuri steps in, holding both your hands, "and I'm just in Cambridge" she hugs you tightly, "don't be a stranger, yeah?"

"I'll come visit you whenever I can then" you squeeze her hands.

"You better" Yuri gives you her rare ten megawatt smile.

"Yuri and I will be classmates so you can visit me too if you want" James pats your back awkwardly.

"Fuck off, no we're not" Yuri scrunches her nose at James.

"We'll see you at the after party, Hobie?" Ned asks the unusually quiet man next to you.

The after party, where she will be waiting for Hobie. You try not to think about it, mentally chastising yourself.

"Nah, I have to get ready for her show."

"That's rescheduled actually, it's happening next week instead of tomorrow" you correct him. Hissing when your skin tugs at your eye.

"We'll be there then if you ever decide to pop in" Yuri informs Hobie.

"Alright, see you" Hobie waves them off. Sitting back down you watch them walk away with sad eyes.

"Can I have my ice pack back?" You groan when the pain pinches your eyelids.

"It's basically water, I'll get you a new one" He moves towards the nurse. You sit there, contemplating the past events.

The green monster peeks back out, shaking its cage, shackles straining against its leg. You try to move away from the image of her hands wrapped around Hobie's necklace that you've given him three birthdays ago, cherry red lipstick sticking to his cheek. The way he looked at her, the fucking pain in your eye. You start seething again, wanting to punch something.

You sigh, palms over your tired face, avoiding your injured eye.

"You al–" he stops himself, walking on eggshells. You don't want him doing that around you. "Here's your ice pack, the nurse said you don't have a concussion so I can take you home. Only if you want to" Hobie hands you the ice pack.

"This seems familiar, huh?" You wince at the cold hitting your skin, trying to cut the tension.

"What?"

"Can you fucking sit down for a second" you gesture towards a chair.

Hobie sighs, sitting down backwards on the chair, resting his chin over the plastic back of it, arms wrapping around it.

"When we first met? Remember that? It was almost exactly like this"

He lets out a breathy laugh, "Right, you threw that sketchbook at Terry. Yuri's right, you've got a dangerous arm"

"Should've gone into baseball, or volleyball at least" you avoid his stare. "We were sharing an ice pack, while we bad mouth Terrence" chuckling sadly at the memory. You don't regret meeting him that day, if you could do it all over again even after knowing what will happen, you would, without question.

"Will you fucking look at me" Hobie asks softly, you jump slightly at his angry tone. "Can you tell me what's eating you, is it the project?"

You wait a few seconds to bravely look at him, your face unreadable. "It's not the project"

"Is it really rescheduled, or you're just trying to get rid of me?" Hobie narrows his eyes at you. You can't read him, his expression flat, except for the slight scowl.

You shake your head, "Why the fuck am I trying to get rid of you? Mrs. Williams had a change of heart and gave us an extension, that's it!" The conversation escalates, frustrated at Hobie for implying that you're getting rid of him. You would never.

"Then why are you angry?" He doesn't raise his voice, he never does, and he won't ever start to.

"Because! I'm–" you hear a loud cough, the nurse glares at you two. Hobie notices, standing up.

"C'mon let's go inside" He stands up.

"Yeah, because arguing inside a museum is much better"

"You think those fucks care about a museum?" He points towards the concert with his thumb, "I looked inside, no one's in there. They're all going to the after party anyway"

Sighing, you want to go home, but knowing Hobie, he won't relent. You wouldn't dare to go to his place instead, not wanting to taint your future home with a fight. Your dorm is out of the question, it's almost midnight, your RA wouldn't let Hobie in. You don't want to run from this, even if it means lying to his face.

"Give me the bloody card" He asks for the favour card tucked inside your pocket.

"You're gonna use one on this?" You hand it to him.

"Yes" he pops one off, Hobie doesn't want to ruin his relationship with you, especially with him not knowing the cause of your anger. So he's willing to do anything to prevent that. The wind carries the logo somewhere.

You wish you're that piece of paper right now. Only seven to go.

—

Walking around the futuristic room, the walls white and pristine, covered in blue neon lights. It looks like you're in one of Ned's favourite sci-fi movie, you can't quite make out the title though. The entire place is silent, with only a handful of people walking around, the only sounds are from displays, machines whirring in the background, and noises made by the displays' speakers. They opened up the museum really late for the concert as a promotion even though most people only stayed for the show.

You stop in front of a display, a projection of some enhanced spider lifting something that's apparently fifty times heavier than its weight. Sitting down on a bench in front of the display, eyes glued to the presentation.

Hobie sits next to you, giving you space. He watches the projection's glow on the side of your face, making it look like there's a giant spider crawling on your skin.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you" you finally break the silence. "I shouldn't have done that, you were only trying to help," eyes still watching the educational video. Taking a deep breath, "Why do you think I'm trying to get rid of you?"

"It's nothing" he watches as the enhanced spider bites another spider, fighting with it.

"It's clearly nothing" you scoff, "that's the first thing you thought of when I told you that the show's rescheduled"

Hobie wishes he brought Terry with him, his leg bouncing, a nervous habit of his. "I'm holding you back." He confesses, wincing, regretting it almost immediately.

Your neck snaps to look at him, "You're not, why would you think that?" You sound angry, but your concern for him wins over. "Why?" Tentatively scooching over, you close the distance, cupping his hand in yours. "If anything I'm holding you back, you could've gone anywhere after you left school. Yet you stayed"

Hobie raises his brow at you, scoffing. At first you thought he'll pull away his hand, instead he drops his forehead on your shoulder, fitting right in. He feels the roughness of your denim jacket, squeezing your hand.

The projector's light envelopes you two in emerald green as it switches to a different scene.

"Why do you think I'm still here?" He finally answers after a few seconds. It felt like hours for you.

"Because I'm your best friend" you say softly.

"Best mates don't look at each other like we do" he gathers all his courage, tired of all the pushing and pulling, tired of being selfish, locking his feelings from you. Hobie cranes his neck up to look into your familiar eyes. The same eyes he's longed for. He's so close to you he could see himself in your glassy eyes.

Your heart beats a thousand times per second, Hobie cups your jaw, gaze falling on your slightly parted lips. You hold his wrist, thumb right on his hastening pulse, you cup his jaw with your free hand, hand soft against his slight stubble.

"Best mates don't touch each other like this," he continues.

Your eyes wander around his face, looking for any lies of what he's told you, flabbergasted at his confession. Your breath is seemingly stuck in your throat, heart stuttering when he slowly closes the gap between you.

You don't pull away.

You can feel him tugging at the loose thread, it feels like it's tightening around you instead of breaking you two apart at the seams. The dam has a sizable crack in its foundation, threatening to burst open.

Hobie leans towards your lips, now or never, he sees you flutter your eyes close, taking it as a sign to seal your lips with his. He feels a crawling sensation on his back, ignoring it, thinking it's his nerves acting up. His heart pounds like a drum, he can't back down now.

"Agh! Fuck!" Hobie suddenly screeches, hands flying towards his nape.

"What? What is it?!" You panic, turning him around, yelping when you see a bright spider latched on his neck. "Fuck!"

"What is it?!"

"Spider!" You try to fling it away using your sleeves, avoiding touching the arachnid.

"It fucking bit me!" Hobie slaps his neck in one swift movement, the spider lays dead, still latched on his skin. "Did I get it?"

"Yeah, let me just–" you take a handkerchief from your pocket, taking the spider away from his skin, "there, got it" showing the spider laying on your pink handkerchief. "Oh god it's red"

"You think it's venomous?"

You laugh wholeheartedly for the first time that night.

"I'm serious, I could die from this" Hobie pokes the spider.

Like it's comedic timing, the narrator from the educational video says, "it's not venomous but it is advised to seek professional help when bitten by the wolf spider, some people could be allergic to their bites–"

Staring at each other, "wow" you manage to say at the same time, you giggle nervously, having no idea how to proceed with how things are now.

"It doesn't look like the wolf spider, they're a different color" Hobie pokes the spider to look at its underbelly, "yeah, different one" he acts as if he's suddenly interested in arachnology.

You look at him with so much endearment, your eyes are practically shaped like hearts.

"What?" Hobie catches your staring, a smile playing on his lips.

"Nothin'" you taunt him with a cheeky smile. He rolls his eyes at you but his smile betrays him.

The intercom rings out, "The museum is now closed, sorry for the early closing" a nasally voice says. "There has been an incident in one of our displays, please leave the museum in an orderly fashion"

Hobie clears his throat, hand scratching at his nape, also not knowing what happens now. "I'll take you home," He stands up, offering you his hand.

"Okay" you feel giddy as you take his outstretched hand. It feels familiar yet oh so different now. You've finally got confirmation about his feelings towards you, no matter how vague it was. You two have all the time in the world to discuss it. You've waited this long, you can endure a few more days of tiptoeing around each other. Baby steps, you think.

Swinging your intertwined hands, you look up at him. "Do you think the incident that they're talking about is this spider?" You pat your jeans pocket where the covered spider is kept. "Like it came out of its enclosure or something?"

"They don't have live specimens here, probably not" he entertains your question, squeezing your hand.

You both leave the museum, hand in hand. Ignoring an alarm blaring from somewhere.

—

You hug Hobie's leather jacket tighter around you, the cold air biting at your cheeks, helping numb the pain in your eye. Hobie takes your helmet off for you, the simple action he's done a million times before makes your heart skip a beat. You watch him with curious eyes, waiting for something to happen between you. The large brick building that houses your dorm looms overhead.

You notice him sweating despite the cold, "How do you feel?" You ask, concerned.

"I feel fine" he takes your helmet back towards the compartment of his motorbike. "Why?"

You step over to him, your palm feeling his forehead for a sign of a fever. "You're sweating, it's like fifteen degrees, why are you sweating?" He leans into your touch, sighing a bit.

"It's because I'm bloody fit" Hobie smirks, winking at you playfully.

You roll your eyes, "what if you're actually allergic to that spider bite? We might need to get you to a hospital" pulling back your hand to your side.

"I'm fine, seriously. I have no idea why I'm sweating though" He wipes his moist forehead.

"Okay. I can come with, just to make sure you don't have a weird reaction to it"

"You'll come to the after party?"

"You're still going to that?" Why? She'll be there, you bite your tongue, jealousy gripping you again. He's not going because of that, right?

"Yeah, It'll probably be the last one with the band, I want to make the most of it"

"Okay, just be careful" you wrap your pinky around his, "ask the others for help if you suddenly feel sick, please?"

"I will. Go to bed, you're knackered. Get some ice on that once you wake up, yeah?"

You bravely stand on your tiptoes to reach his cheek, kissing his skin softly. It feels just right, like your lips were perfectly molded for his cheek. Hobie seems like he ran out of air, frozen into place. He has no idea where to put his hands, your waist seems to be a little suggestive, arms seems to be more on the friendly side, if he grabs the back of your neck, Hobie's afraid he might pull you in for a kiss, which you might not want right now. So he settles for your shoulder, it feels awkward still.

You pull away, seeing a very rare sight of a flustered Hobie. Almost giggling, you clamp down, not wanting to tease him more or he might start hiding this kind of face he's currently making. His pupils are blown out, mouth agape. He returns to his nonchalant expression when he notices you biting your lips to stifle your giggling.

Grabbing his hands in yours, you bat your lashes, "Drive carefully, please?"

Hobie pulls you in by your belt loop, hugging you, his chin rests on the crown of your head, long arms enveloping you. He pokes your scalp with his chin. Your laugh pierces through the dark.

"Yeah, yeah" Pulling away, he carefully grazes his forefinger over to your black eye. "Sorry, 'bout this"

"Not your fault. Thank you for jumping in to save me, even if I yelled at you after" you look at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, again"

He shakes his head, not knowing the exact words to reply to you. Rubbing your leather clad arms, he stops when he reaches your hands. "Keep this for tonight, you can bring it back to me tomorrow, yeah?" Hobie subtly asks you out.

You grin at him asking for you to come visit him the next day. "Mm-hmm, I was gonna visit you anyway. You're due for a fitting"

"Yeah? Finished our baby then?" An excited smile appears on his lips.

"Almost, I think you'll like it" You say smugly.

"You made it, it's a guarantee I'll like it"

—

You adjust the weight of your heavy bag on your shoulder, walking along the water towards Hobie's houseboat. Grinning at the familiar boat, you speed walk to the doors. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, excited to see Hobie again after last night, After his 'confession'.

Hugging his leather jacket around your torso, moving the bag slightly away, just to show him that you didn't forget to bring it with you.

Knocking, you call out to Hobie. "Hey, it's me!"

The boat rocks a bit to the side, tilting your head, curious at what might've caused its movement since the river is calm. Finn is right, you can't hear anything happening inside. The boat tilts again, you hold onto the wall for support.

You knock again, "Hobie! Are you okay in there?"

Hobie finally answers the door, it swings wildly, sweat dripping on his bare chest, still in his boxers, his wicks uncharacteristically standing in messy angles. Gripping the doorknob in an iron hold, his chest heaves up and down like he's run a marathon, or like he just–

Hobie seems like he can't properly construct a proper sentence, he blinks at you through watery eyes, licking his dry lips.

You were about to ask him if he's okay, you freeze in place, face falling when a female voice rings somewhere inside– "Hobs?"

You feel a hole caving in your heart, leaving a Hobie shaped chasm, eyes glistening in the morning sun, you don't even wait for his explanation. You just run, run as fast as your legs could take you. You have no idea where to go. Your heart is shattering with every step, you have no time to pick up the pieces, leaving it scattered in the wind.

You can hear Hobie yelling your name, ignoring his urgent calls, you sprint away.

A/N: Everything will make sense in the next chapter 😉 thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed it, it encourages me to write more ❤️

*pictures above are from pinterest*

[the-kr8tor]

This #$@% has turned into a 2,294 word fic and I'm not even at the plot point yet 😭 Someone save me please-

Today's ttn fic was so cute! I loved it and read it instantly because thankfully I had the time. I really have to lock in because I have finals tomorrow and the day after so excuse my absence please pookie. How are you by the way? I'm a little stressed but overall happy.

Indulge me ok? Bc @pleaktale has given me a lot of inspiration recently. Pirate Hobie in a port town gathering supplies with the crew. They have some downtime or Hobie just wanders off a stumbles across villager r. Just playing or walking around in the sand and it's love at first sight for my guy (favorite trope ngl).

r owns a shop whether it's a bakery, bookstore, apothecary, etc and Hobie finds out after he does some digging around. Purposefully seeking her out and damn if she isn't the cutest and sweetest thing.

He comes back to the ship with like six cases of bread or books on charting and sailing. Things he doesn't need.

Makes the crew come back to the same port each time they need to resupply. Eventually the crew finds out after seeing him (aka following him) talking with r. They make fun of him and tag along on his visits just to irritate him. Even better if they flirt with r and Hobie gets jealous. Like pouting in a corner while Ned talks about how pretty you are. (Which is nice but you'd much rather hear it from Hobie's lips-)

Gwen has had enough after months of Hobie hoarding whatever he buys from you on the ship (she be sinking a little too deep into the water) as well as those little sighs he lets out while looking out into the direction of your town. She threatens Hobie with a "if you don't tell her I will".

r is obviously smitten too but doesn't know what to do. Maybe Hobie's just being friendly? He flirts with nearly everyone he comes across. He's just naturally charming. It's a "she fell first but he fell harder" kind of deal because spoiler alert, r noticed Hobie long before he noticed her.

Conclusion, you're both idiots in love and honestly should just go makeout already because damn if this isn't the slowest burn (I'm looking at you Katy. ttn ruined me in the best way possible. It's so good 💗)

Ahhhh i get what u mean!!! The set up is so much harder to write than the main plot point bc you've had the vision for it now u just need to write the build up!! Just think that after writing the first part you can finally get to the part you really like and you can use that as your motivation to finish the first half ❤️

Ahhhh! Thank you so much! I loved writing it sm it gave me nostalgia even though I've never experienced the 80s or 90s lmaooo

I'm doing okay, angel! I hope you're taking breaks in between studying ❤️ good luck on your finals ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Are you in my walls, lovely? Bc the part where Hobie stumbles across r was the original idea for bdas!! But it didn't fit with the rest of the plot so I scrapped it in the end (we're twin hearts fr fr)

THAT'S SO CUTE!!!! HOBIE'S PINING IS SO AUGHHHH 😍😍😍😍😍😍🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

Hobie with heart eyes while in R's store: I fancy yo--- I mean I fancy your merchandise, give me one of everything

R: 🤨🤨🤨

Gwen threatening to tell R 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

Hehehehe I have infected everyone with slow burn disease 😂😂😂

[the-kr8tor]

Sometimes I think about my OC (Could be R too tbh) who is a fallen "Angel" because she was born in a crime family, witnessed all the people doing horrible things her whole life yet still decided to trust in humanity because of how kind and caring and loving her (said crime) family is. Also her family is kinda "preserving the family business" kinda crime family and tbh did more good for their community then their corrupted PD and government could do so, it's so natural that she tries to see good in everyone. But Fate was never on her side, like she could be the unluckiest being in her universe. (If there's a hypothetically an always winning horse and she bets on it, that horse will get lose every time she bet kinda level unlucky LOL) hen she gets 🕷🕸 power, it was so painful. Like normal spidey get bitten and they're not even caring more than a flinch, right? I was inspired by a headcanon that Hobie's spiderbite event would be more painful and severe than normal "peter's spidey" or Miles' one would because his would be the spider that crawled out of frickin radioactive wastes, hence stronger reaction to the body. And I couldn't think of other ways except that scene you wrote in TTN. I'd like the irony of a teenager who's afraid of spider and heights becoming a spidey, lolol. also thinks of Angel not only having severe reaction for the bite because it alters her sensory and skin, it's all she got. Like sure, now she can feels more vibrations against her skin if the distance is near enough(constant annoying spidersense) and she can crawl against wall now, but not much strength enhancement, no natural webbing, no strong healing, etc. Thank god that she's too durable orignally because she'd be long gone even before meeting Hobie if not, LMAO. Basically, the supposed "power ups" are contradicted to her fears but she tries and makes things work, yk. She's so naive, and childish and friendly sometimes. Girlie trusted someone falling down on her through the multiversal tube line (Hobie) right on the scene. No questions asked I would trust whatever his pretty arse sprew abt too tbh They became friends, he becomes her moon as she shines on him like the first ray of sunshine in the morning (I'd say Hobie's pretty cooked when he described her like that since he's from London-)but THEY NEVER CONFESSED BUT BUT... When Hobie finally brings out the courage to ask her out because he just realized how dangerous their line of work is and wants to say it to her before one of them is gone... She died from blood loss after bleeding out all night after her last fight with Green Goblin and stopping his crime family went downhill because Goddamn Capt. Stacy not only snitched her out but also led her to the wrong death end so she's cornered... He did those because Gwen and Peter are held hostage but I still hate him for the writing decisions I made<//3 After Hobie reached her and tried to stop the pale blue body that had too much cut on the beautiful face he admired so much in silence while sobbing, it was finally the moment that Death claimed her after a long agonizing, bleeding night, right on his arm... Thank you for listening to my rant ted talk~ -🦊

Me on the first half:

Angel has such an interesting back story!! I love her already 😍 Hobie's reaction to her being a crime lord's kid would either be hilarious or a real wtf expression

Lmaoo true I'd trust hobie with my life

Me reading the end:

DAMN U CAPT STACY!!!

They never confessed 😭😭😭😭😭😭 POOR HOBIE HE HAS ANOTHER CANON EVENT 😔

Thank u for the ted talk ❤️