Latest Posts by snowyblanca - Page 4

This actually happened

I did say I'm gonna draw more of them-

Bro’s never been hugged by a girl before lmao

Seafoam on the shore

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW drinking, CW food mentions, TW injury.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 1 >>> CHAPTER 2

You run as fast as you can, your feet flying off the muddy uneven streets. Huffing while a local copper yells at you to stop, his yells get more exhausted every second he chases after you. So far he isn't even near you, one of the few benefits of staying at a provincial fishing town is that the police are either too out of shape to catch you, their bellies round, definitely full of ale. Or they simply don't give a damn about a pickpocket, muttering to themselves how they're not paid enough to do a city cop's job.

Losing your balance, you silently curse at your worn down work boots. Sliding off the ground, skidding off down the streets, disturbing the hustle and bustle of the market. You hit a vegetable cart along the way, wood splintering, scratching your arms. Cabbages and carrots fly off, there's yelling and screaming around you and your legs are aching from the impact.

“Sorry!” You yell back to a disgruntled vendor.

He curses at you and your entire family for ruining his sale. You take a mental note to pay him back somehow when you're not currently occupied.

Digging your heels in, you come to a halt, you're lucky enough to get a hold on a lamp post. Glancing behind, you don't see the cop running after you but you're not taking any chances so you enter a tight alleyway. You know this village like the back of your hand, you have to or else seeing the inside of the jail would be waiting for you in the future.

Knowing there’s a pipe somewhere along the walls, you run your muddy hands along the bricks, the cramp walls touching your back and chest, you stop when your nail hits something metallic.

Your ears perk up at someone snitching, “fuck” without hesitation, you climb up the rusty pipe.

Hands digging into the metal. It creaks and groans, but it seems like lady luck is on your side when you reach the top with no problems.

Hearing hurried footsteps down below, you immediately lie low on the roof. Hiding yourself from his gaze. The cop glances around the alley, scratching his head, confused as to how you escaped without a trace.

“Damn” he mutters, completely winded.

You smile to yourself as he leaves. The sun bares at your back, cotton blouse sticking to your skin. Needing a bath is an understatement.

Standing up, you carefully tread the roof, avoiding floors that look damaged. You definitely don't want a repeat incident of what happened six villages ago. You can never get used to the view from up high, the sea blends in with the orange sky, melting together, blues, greens and reds mingle in harmony. The setting sun paints a picturesque scenery, draping everything it touches in its heavenly light.

Ships and fishing boats float above the waves as if they're dancing to the sound of the water splashing on its wooden sides.

Your hands instinctively reach for the necklace hidden under your blouse. Fingers tracing the etching of a flying bird that you know like the back of your hand.

Despite the open sea, you can't help but feel trapped. The docks beckon you over to somewhere you can't remember, somewhere where you can rest in peace, somewhere across the deep dark treacherous sea are people you can call your home. People who may have been looking for you all this time. Their faces are but a blur in your mind, voices a mere echo lingering in your heart. The pendant leaves a circular indent on your palms as you grip it tight.

Is it possible to miss someone you don't even remember?

Your train of thought gets interrupted by movement from a ship floating along the dock, a large sailboat whose wood differs from each one of its structures. You can tell from how some of it is painted gold and silver like the ones on royal ships, it looks like it was hastily hammered into regular oak with intricate carvings. Some wood blends better together, dark timber melding with ashen wood. Three cannons are lined on the sides, its metal having seen better days, no longer glimmering in the sunlight.

From where you're standing, the figurehead on the bow looks peculiar, like nothing you've ever seen traveling along coastal towns. A fierce creature with sharp teeth opening its jaws, eyes wide and alert. Its red scaly skin adds to its terrifying image. What's more peculiar is the lack of flag flying on its mast. An unknown ship from an unknown place tickles your curiosity.

You slink back down on the roof when a woman emerges from below deck, her blond hair shining under the sun. Another much taller one follows behind her. Raven colored hair flowing in the soft wind. They seem to be arguing, but you're completely bewildered as to how they're allowed to sail. All this time, you can't believe that you can actually step foot inside a boat, moreso sail on it.

This changes everything, you suppose.

You leave the roof, letting the women argue amongst themselves. Expertly hopping from awning to canopy, you land at your final destination, the White Salmon pub.

Jumping down, you land on a cart full of broken fishing nets, it's a miracle that you weren't tangled under all the mess.

Entering the rowdy pub, the smell of ale and pickled fish enters your nostrils. A bunch of sailors sing off key in the middle, too drunk to care about the ruckus they're making. You try to blend in with the drunk crowd, hiding behind people, weaving around them to sneak past the bar and upto the stairs leading up to your room.

“Oi! did ya think I wouldn't notice ya?”

You stop just about the foot of the stairs. Groaning in exasperation, quickly taking off the bandana tied around your face to conceal half of your face. You try your best to put your best smile, turning your charm up to a hundred.

“Hi, aunty Janet” you walk towards her like a child caught with their hands inside the cookie jar. “I got the butter you asked”

Janet huffs, eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed. You place the stick of butter in front of her like an offering to appease an angry God.

“Please don't tell me the coppers will be knocking on my doors again”

“That was one time! Besides I actually paid for this one” you push the butter towards her with your finger. She stares at it like you're giving her contraband.

You give her one charming smile, she sighs, taking the butter from the counter. “You're on thin ice, Y/N. Don't make me regret taking you in.”

“That was a year ago and look, I'm still here!”

“A year and a half, I counted because with every shit ya manage to pull, a strand of my hair turns white.” she points at her hair that's almost completely white. “This used to be black”

“I know, I'm sorry. I just need to–”

“To what? It always seems like you're hiding shit from me and Thena” She tries to hold your hand on the counter but you flinch away.

“Won't happen again, I promise.” A clear lie on your part, you'll just have to be better at sneaking. You vault over the counter to roll up your sleeves, clean yourself up and put on your apron.

“When will you learn, girl?”

“When the king sentences me to death himself!” grabbing an empty tray, you start clearing a nearby table. Janet pinches the bridge of her nose.

After dodging rowdy customers and a flying pint, Thena takes a break with you in the tiny corner of the tavern. She unabashedly sighs loudly, smelling of ale and lavender she hastily rubbed on to mask the scent of alcohol.

You side eye her with a tired smile, Thena sighs again, louder this time, a few patrons gaze your way.

“Alright, what's wrong?”

“Oh nothin' it's just Arthur's back again and he hasn't even glanced my way”

You flick your eyes towards the blonde patron nursing a pint, his green eyes meet yours, he smiles with his yellow teeth and you look away immediately, not from embarrassment, no, but from how you don't want his eyes on you.

Why in the world is Thena so smitten by someone like Arthur who comes and goes into the pub more than he goes inside a bathroom?

“You could do better, Thena. One that actually brings in coins instead of using them all in the pub or a brothel.”

“I know,” she sighs once again. Leaning closer to your side so you slide further away. “But he's the fittest bloke here though” whining, she puffs out her cheeks.

As if some divine comedy, Arthur beckons you over with a twist of his hand. You internally cringe.

Thena gasps, “I think he's finally taking notice of me!” She stands up, sauntering over to his table with the confidence of a newborn deer.

Before you could rescue her though, Janet yells at you from the other side of the room. “Get back to work, Y/N!” She signals with head, pointing towards a table by the corner.

You groan, lumbering your way towards the customers. His large back is turned away from you, brown hair neatly slicked back, clothes looking too neat and expensive for a dingy pub like the white salmon. His companion thumps her head on the wall lightly like she's trying to get water out of her ears. Her hair is cut short, glasses over her almond shaped eyes, clothes equally looking expensive but less neat than her large companion.

Her lips turn upwards once she sees you. “Finally some service” she stretches her legs out, noting how she's wearing trousers instead of the usual frilly skirts rich women wear.

“Sorry, what can I do for you?” You put on your customer service voice that's laced with mild annoyance. The man sits still like a rock, his back still turned away from you.

“Fish and chips, some pickled eggs and a pint.” She glances at her friend before groaning with a sly smirk. “And he'll have plain porridge, no seasoning, just porridge. It's better if it's days old. Right, Miguel?”

The man huffs, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. The single candle light on the table illuminates his chiseled face, turning his eyes crimson.

“A pint will do” his voice is gruff yet calm.

There's alarm bells ringing in your head, the tray falls from your shaking hands. Your heart thumps louder than the clanking metal.

“Careful there, it's bad to drink on the job” His friend’s comment falls on deaf ears as you stare at the man before you. His expression doesn't change except for how his eyebrows lift slightly.

It's been years, surely he doesn't recognize me as an adult, right?

You clear your throat, mustering the best smile you can do. “Sorry about that, I'll get your orders right away” leaning down to take the tray from the sticky floors, your necklace slips out of your blouse, the gold shimmering in the candle light.

He could burn you with just his stare.

Walking briskly, clutching the tray, its metal is uncomfortably cold on your skin. The pub seems to get louder and louder with every footstep, the laughter and rowdy singing makes you dizzy. Janet calls after you as you run up the stairs to your room.

Thinking fast, you lock the door, pushing your dresser to further lock it. Your mind races to the floorboards beneath your threadbare bed. With your bare hands you hastily take the wood out revealing a hollow hole containing your possessions.

There's loud booming footsteps climbing up the stairs. Followed by his voice calling your name.

“Fuck” without thinking, you take the bag from its hiding place, slinging it over your shoulder before you cross the small space to the window.

“Y/N, Please!” He keeps calling after you. “Let me just,” thump, “fuck!”

That's your signal to jump down.

Landing on your heels, you feel your knees aching from the fall. You hear your bedroom door slam open with a force that surely broke its hinges.

You run like you've ran from him like last time.

Suddenly, you're thirteen years old, weaving through the forest, vines prickling your legs as you wade through the thicket. White lilies are but a blur as tears flow freely from your eyes as you keep running without a destination.

Why? Aren't you enough? Did she not love you like you thought she did? What did you do to deserve being abandoned twice?

You're back to the present when he yells your name again. Your heart pounds loudly on your ribcage, lungs burning, you feel like you're about to collapse.

His companion also runs after you, screaming your name desperately.

But you have the upperhand. Using the moon as your guide, you climb up a house, its bricks protruding out of the walls, the place you used to climb to practice, but now you climb it to save your own skin.

Running from roof to roof, you feel a presence behind you. His thunderous footsteps echo into the cold night. You don't dare look behind.

The woman follows you from the ground, her heels clicking on the uneven sidewalk. “Y/N! Wait up–shit!” Without looking down, you hear her fall.

He screams your name again, the same one she called you back then.

You run furiously, jumping off the side only to keep running towards the docks. Panicking, you see a ship leaving the docks, its fishing net left hanging on the side. Without thinking, you make a break for it.

Sprinting on the old docks, you leap the huge gap. Miraculously, you take hold of the net, clinging to it with all your might. Entering the net, you ignore the smell of fish, watching as the place you once called home gets smaller and smaller.

You say goodbye to Janet, who kindly took you in without asking for anything in return. Who gave you a job and a room so you don't freeze and starve outside. Who took care of you when you fell ill to the cold.

You say goodbye to Thena, the only friend you've ever had, the longest friend you've ever had. The same Thena who taught you how to sew and mend your own clothes. Thena who taught you how to throw a punch when a handsy sailor tries to touch you.

Thena whom you've grown accustomed to calling you her sister.

You say goodbye to the fishing town you've only recently called your home.

You say goodbye to the man at the docks who's staring at your fleeing form, whose eyes are narrowed, almost pleading for you to come back.

A/N: There's no Hobie appearance in this chapter yet :( (next chapter though 👀)

Hope you like it, thank you for reading!

Batten Down the Hatches

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, TW panic attack, CW Injury, CW food mentions.

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 6 >>> CHAPTER 7

With Pavitr’s arm slung over your shoulder and James handing you a glass that smells incredibly strong, your heart has never felt this content in years. You laugh as Yuri wins an arm wrestle round for the third time that day. Everyone cheers, Yuri flexes with a rare wide smile.

It's been a few hours since your daring jump, you can still feel Hobie's hands on yours and the crew clasping your shoulders happily once they finally lifted you up. With their warm welcome and after the whole debacle, Hobie insisted that there should be a celebration for a mission accomplished.

“Someone rum me up!” she yells and you immediately give her your untouched glass. “Oh hell yeah, thank you, wifey!” Yuri winks, already drunk.

“I'm not your wife, Yuri!” You happily yell above the noise.

She gasps dramatically, “oh you wound me!” You shake your head with a smile.

“Yeah, Yuri, she's already taken!” Pav pipes up from your side, shaking your shoulders.

You clasp your hand over his chattering mouth, the crowd guffaws, asking you numerous questions.

“Oi! Who's got you all smitten then?” Two fingers asks.

“Oh look at her smile!” Ned joins in with the teasing.

“Alright, who do I have to fight for your hand?” Yuri has her hands on her hips, a teasing smile on her painted lips.

“No one! Pav's being a little shit!” you wrangle Pav while he tries to wiggle out.

He manages to get out, acting like he's deprived of air. “Isn't it obvious, it's the ca–”

Finn huffs loudly, his large frame casting a shadow over the small table. You sigh, relieved that Finn unintentionally saved you from all the teasing.

Yuri looks him up and down, the alcohol in her veins inflates her ego. With a smug smile on her lips, she sits back down on the stool, laying her elbow down on the table, flexing her hand towards Finn, challenging him for a match.

Everyone quiets down, flicking their eyes between the two.

You never thought you'd see the day, Finn grins, sitting across Yuri. With a loud thump, he copies his opponent’s movement, his large hand dwarfing Yuri's.

A loud cheer erupts, overflowing cups sloshing out, some even jump for joy. You blame the alcohol.

Pav leaves your side, going around to collect bets. The crew coughs up coins, you watch, beaming, nodding along to the light strumming of Ned's well loved guitar.

Backing away from the crowd, you leave everyone to get some air. The throbbing ache in your ankle protests so you lean on the ship's bannister, watching the vast sea waving to you. The afternoon sun bearing down, its warmth a welcome one from the cool sea breeze.

A steaming cup suddenly appears, balancing on the wooden railing. A lithe hand pushes it towards you wordlessly.

“Another olive branch?” You tease, side eyeing Hobie.

“No, I figured you'd want something to drink when you didn't drink the rum.” With his back against the bannister, elbows propped over it, he leans casually, face upwards, basking in the sun. His silver piercings glint in the light, a familiar pendant around his neck.

“Were you watching me? You stalker” taking the cup, you raise it to your smiling lips. Turmeric, you surmise based on the taste. You let the herbal tea soothe your aching ankle.

“I was watching my crew.” Hobie faces you, muscles relaxed, content. “How's the injury?”

“Getting better,” you twist your foot around, testing the pain. There's a dull ache now, the ice from Nellie's helped. “How'd you know about turmeric?” looking at him, you watch as his smile turns into a grin.

“‘m full of surprises I guess.” he throws your own words at you.

You roll your eyes, “You're insufferable, captain.”

“And I, you.” His eyes are soft. Before you know it, Hobie's already walking away.

The roaring laughter gets your attention. Yuri stands on the rickety table, arms up in glee with a look that screams ‘I'm a winner!’ Meanwhile, Finn is standing next to her, visibly worried, holding onto a very drunk Yuri who keeps riling up the crowd with her triumphant yells.

You guess the rum has special properties if Yuri can beat the large Finn at his own game.

The crew parts for Hobie, you'd think he would put a stop to Yuri's rambunctious celebration. Instead, he hops up on the wobbly table, sharing the already small space with Yuri who guffaws loudly, clapping rhythmically.

“Scoundrels!” She yells at the top of her lungs, the crew cheers, matching her energy.

Gwen sidles up next to you wordlessly, shoving you lightly. Giving her a smile, you watch the carriage wreck in front of you.

“May I introduce, Hobie motherfuckin’ Brown!” Yuri drops backwards, making you flinch towards her general direction. Good thing Finn's got her in his strong arms.

Yep, she's properly drunk off her ass.

Hobie takes a glass from someone, raising it up, the crew quiets down. A hush fills the ship, the sound of wood rocking against waves can only be heard above the silence.

“Rapscallions” They urge him on. “ne'er-do-wells!” The cheering gets louder. “Fuckin’ rascals!” He paused, the yells are ear drum bursting. “We finally got the king's swine!” You hear glasses breaking.

Hobie continues, quieting down the entire ship with one clear of his throat. “With the papers we have we finally know where the son of a bitch is sailing to.” His voice shakes from sheer anger and determination. “This time we get the upper hand.” His men hoot and cheer. “We will fight until we get our hands on the bastard that cut half of our crew. This time we get our bloody revenge!”

He downs the entire glass of rum in one drink, swallowing it like water. Meanwhile the rest of the crew follow his lead, gulping their own drinks fervently.

The cheering got so loud your ears started ringing.

You really hope they get the navy captain so that you can find your family who may or may not be up north. Until then, you'll stay with the crew and hope for the best that there'll be minimal injuries incurred during the fight.

—

You can't seem to find sleep despite how tired you were of yesterday’s events. Tossing and rolling in your bed, with a huff, you fling away the blanket. Lacing up your well worn shoes, you open the creaking door quietly.

With only the moonlight as your guide, you walk the familiar hallways, feet carefully avoiding the noisy floorboards.

Entering the library, lighting the oil lamp left on the table, you roam the bookshelves. With the help of the lamp, it illuminates the old spines. But nothing has piqued your interest, finding the titles too dull to keep your attention or too engrossing that you might not fall asleep when you inevitably drown in its pages.

Yawning, you think of another way to help you sleep. Maybe a glass of water might help? Or better yet, a cup of warm tea and biscuits might satiate you.

So you traverse the hallways once again, passing by cabins. Careful not to make any noise or you might face the wrath of a sleep deprived pirate. You know what they say, it's better to tease a drunk pirate rather than wake one from their slumber.

With silent footfalls, you almost jump in your skin when you see the captain himself brewing a pot of something that smells incredibly sweet.

With his back turned away from the door, you're sure you can slink away without him noticing.

“Scuttlebutt,” he half chuckles as the floorboards under you creak while you try to escape. “Want some hot chocolate?”

You groan, defeated. Turning around, he greets you with a smug smile, his eyes showing how fatigued he is but the light is still there, saying otherwise.

“What the hell is hot chocolate?” crossing the space, you lean on the kitchen island, facing Hobie on the other side. “I thought chocolate was supposed to be cold.”

“You're in for a treat then. ‘m guessing you've never had chocolate before?” he takes a clean mug for you, laying it next to his.

“Nope,” you pop the letter p, trying your best not to wipe your heavy eyes. “Chocolate is a luxury few can afford.”

Hobie hums, pouring the hot liquid in each cup.

This is what ambrosia might've smelt like, you thought.

“It's chocolate melted down with hot water or milk. Lucky for you, we got a few bottles of ‘em from one of the families. But we need to consume it fast or it'll go bad quickly.”

He hands you the cup, taking it tentatively, you don't flinch back when he suddenly grabs your hand to hold it when he gets impatient from your apprehensiveness.

“Don't worry, I already gave Pav and the first shift their share so you can drink to your heart's content.”

You look into the swirling brown liquid, the warmth from the cup soothes your nerves. Taking a sip, Hobie watches with crinkling eyes and a smile hidden behind his own mug.

“Holy fuck! Sweet nectar of the Gods!” You say before you take a big gulp, the heat searing your tongue. “Ack!” Spluttering out, Hobie lets out a loud laugh.

“Be careful it's hot” he says in between laughs.

“I know, but it's so good though!” You exclaim, eyes twinkling with mirth.

Hobie chuckles, watching you swallow the liquid down to the last drop.

You sigh, full and happy. “If solid chocolates taste like this then I'm more than ready to raid a merchant ship carrying crates of it.”

Hobie shakes his head. “I've never thought chocolate could make someone a pirate.”

“Not a pirate.” You move to pour yourself a cup. Hobie beats you to it, the sweet drink sloshing inside, filling it to the brim.

“Hmm” he watches you through his lashes.

“You're thinking, that's bad.” You take your cup but Hobie holds it hostage with his hand over the ceramic.

“What are you really doing back here?”

“I couldn't sleep, I just wanted some water.” you move to try and take the mug from him but he moves it further from you.

“There's some outside.”

“Fuck off.” Your hips hit the corner of the kitchen counter harshly as you try to grab your cup sneakily. The mug of precious chocolate scrapes on the counter, making you glare at Hobie when a few drops of it spills. “What do you really mean by that, Hobie?”

He scoffs, “You being here is suspicious—”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not navy.” You say with gritted teeth. You're not sure if he's just messing with you or he's truly being genuine.

“Not that. Not after O’Hara ran a bloody marathon for you, I know you're not one of ‘em. Or at least not anymore.”

You glare at him, getting angrier the second he uttered that name.

“Are you a deserter? Hmm? Are you his runaway bride? If so I don't blame you, I'd run away too.”

You grimace. “Fuck no, I'm neither of those things! Now can you please give me my chocolate?”

“No.” He blinks like he just got some revelation. “Fuck, are you his kid?”

“No! What? How'd you even get that conclusion? Do I look like—?”

“For all I know you could be an aristocrat.” He raises a brow.

“Oh come on!” You're properly annoyed. “I've been scrounging up food and coins for years. If I was a runaway noble lady then I would've come home to my mansion the second I was starving!”

“Why did the retired admiral run after you then? He looked like he wanted your bloody arse.”

“It's none of your business.” The fire in your eyes tries to convey your emotions. “I don't want to talk about him.” your voice turns shaky.

“It's my business because you're on my ship. If Miguel O'Hara's after you I need to know if the rest of my crew is in danger.” a few weeks ago his infuriated face would've scared you but now you're equally as mad as him.

You exhale, knuckles closed tightly on your side. “Fine, I'm here on your ship because you're heading north and I need to go north. You don't need to know about me and that man because I'm leaving when we get there. He won't come after the crew, I won't let him.”

His anger dissipates, eyes avoiding your own. “Here,” he stretches his arm, sliding the cup to you. Hobie winces from the movement, grabbing onto his chest instinctively.

“What is it?” You look at his pained expression. Walking around the counter, you step towards him, not too close but not too far that you wouldn't notice how his brows are knitted together, sweat dripping on his forehead.

Carefully reaching for him, you turn him gently towards you, not missing how hot his skin is under his shirt. “Hobie, look at me.” You say softly, hand squeezing his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.

After a beat he looks at you with his stormy eyes, rain clouds dancing around his vision. “‘m fine, just need to sit down.”

“Let me see please” He freezes in front of you. “I'm here to help, aren't I? Now can I?” With a nod, he unbuttons his shirt slowly. Now open, a bandage is taped across his chest, dark blood seeping through it, clearly needing to be changed. “Fuck.”

“That bad?” He rasps.

“Yes, sit down.” You guide him towards a chair, surprisingly, he lets you. “I need to take it off to see the wound.” Hobie nods.

You kneel down in front of him, he sucks in his teeth with every tug and pull you do. The wound looks almost infected because of the careless bandaging and half hearted cleaning.

“Stay here, I'll get the things I need.”

He stops you with his hand bracelet around your wrist. “Tell me why you need to head north. There's nothing there but pompous politicians and leeching royals.”

“I think–” you start but you have no idea how to continue. Hobie looks up at you, hand sliding down to fit your own. “I think my family's there.” Without sparing any detail, you slip your hand out, turning away to head towards the infirmary.

—

His skin is hot against your hands, too warm for your liking. Sitting in between his legs, cotton shirt fully opened to reveal his wound and scarred chest. His newly bandaged knuckles rested on his thighs, they didn't need much cleaning but the skin was still open so you still did it just in case. The bottles of herbs rattle as the boat rocks from side to side.

Hobie's legs bounce up and down, the silence and tension is thick enough that your needle couldn't even poke through it. The ointment you're gently rubbing on him makes him wince, trouser leg bundled up in his shaking knuckles.

“Sorry, if there's any consolation, I hate this stuff too.” you quietly say. The strong smell from the mixture makes your nose itch.

“Were you a clumsy kid?” Hobie says, sucking in his teeth.

“Mm-hmm, I was climbing everywhere.” Chuckling softly. “Up in trees, roofs, got into so much trouble that she–” You stop, swallowing thickly. “I got a few scars to prove it.”

“We could compare–” he winces again when you press a little too hard on his wound but not too hard for it to bleed again. “Fuck…”

You hide your smile with a clear of your throat. “Sorry.”

“Fuck off, I know you're not sorry.” He laughs while you stifle yours.

Packing the mixture on his wound to combat any further infection, you make your hands extra gentle with every press and swipe.

“You should've told me about this.” Chastising him, you feel his eyes burn into your skull. “I could've prevented this, you know.”

“I've been told ‘m a stubborn bastard.”

“Oh I know. You did a shitty job at cleaning it by the way.”

“That's why you're here now, right?” His idle hands play with a hanging thread by your sleeves. He's not tugging at it so you don't mind, anything to keep his mind off the pain.

“So how'd you know about the turmeric for swelling?” You don't answer his question.

His smile falters before a small fond smile appears. “From someone a long time ago.”

Finishing up with cleaning his gash, you take a clean bandage from the table to cover and protect it. “They must be good then. Not a lot of people know about it.”

“Yes, she was.”

You pause, staring directly at his sad eyes. Hobie continues, “She was like you, brazen and full of fire.” He stares off into the distance, “A bloody force to be reckoned with.”

“A jack of all trades, she was. Always tryin’ to learn shit she didn't have to know.” Hobie flicks his eyes to you. “She knew how to swim, so that's a plus.”

You chuckle as he stares at your soft smile.

“Yours?” He asks tentatively, hand twitching to get closer to you.

“Does she know about ginger and honey?” Like a switch flicking, you stand up abruptly. “It's gonna help with your fever.”

Hobie doesn't press you for any information, instead, he lays back on the chair, letting you pamper him while your hot chocolate gets cold on the counter.

Preparing his tea, you can't help but feel bad for Hobie. Without him ever saying her name you know it's her, and you know he cared about her so much that whatever happened to MJ drove him to this state; a constant agony and hunger for revenge that if not satiated might consume him. He doesn't deserve it you think, he might be a pirate but during the time you've known him you found kindness in his frozen heart that's just waiting to be thawed out the moment he gets his revenge.

For his sake and the crew, you hope he gets what he always wanted.

“Here,” handing him the hot concoction, you're careful not to spill a single drop on him.

Hobie takes it, calloused fingers brushing yours. Taking a whiff of it, he makes a face that makes you scoff with a smile.

“If you can drink an entire glass of rum without choking then you can handle a simple tea.”

He side eyes you, shaking his head like a petulant child rejecting his medicine.

“Down the hatch, Hobie.” Bringing your hand under the cup, you guide it towards his tightly closed mouth. “It's sweet!”

“Nuh-uh” he shuts his lips closed the second he says it before you could shove the tea down his gullet.

Laughing, you can't believe the big bad captain of the bloodsail pirates is refusing to drink a simple ginger tea. “Do you need me to plug your nose, you big baby?” You say in between giggles.

“No, fine, I'll bloody drink it. I don't want your grimey hands all over my face.”

“These grimey hands were all over your chest treating your wound, you absolute child.” You regret your words the second you realize.

“Oh you were all over me, huh?” He smirks. You're glad that he can still smile after everything.

“Fuck off, drink it or don't, I don't care. Go die in a corner or something” you shrug, playing him like a fiddle.

“You really do care about me, Scuttlebutt.” With a deep breath, Hobie drinks the contents without any fuss.

You pat yourself on the back mentally. He coughs, scrunching his nose.

“I need to check your wound and clean it every eight hours. Got it?” You face him directly, hand on the side of his chair, looking down at him sternly.

“So you're finally askin' me out then? Pav was right, you're smitten.” Hobie has the brightest smile of a feverish man you've ever seen.

“Shithead.” You say, snatching the empty cup from his hands.

“You really do care about me. You've even given me a nickname”

You shake your head, taking your cold chocolate, flipping him the bird on the way out of the door.

“Lookin' forward to my next doctor's appointment, Trouble!” Hobie yells after you, his loud guffaw can be heard echoing out in the hallways.

—

You fall back into a comfortable routine. Helping the crew with their tasks and learning their ways throughout the time spent. You finally learn that the murky bucket of water doesn't have lye in it after seeing James dunk his entire arm in it. It's safe to say that he was covered in soapy water from head to toe after almost giving you a heart attack.

Ned's been teaching you how to mend the sails when you're not in the galley with Finn. He tells you tales of the time he was a traveling bard before the war. His stories were very colourful and sometimes not for the faint of heart. Who knew he had so many fans?

You've never smelt like gunpowder before, finding the powder tucked into the cloth of your clothes and sticking to your skin. The main culprit of the almost daily gunpowder bath is no other than Yuri and two fingers who took it upon themselves to teach you how to load a cannon and a musket. Under all the flirting, Yuri's a great teacher, your aim could do some work but at least now a gun isn't worthless in your hands.

At night, Miles and Pavitr would teach you about the stars and how to read maps, using it to navigate just in case you get lost. Which you hope will never happen to you. It would be a great skill to master if only you three would stop gossiping and giggling throughout the night, bellies full of tea and biscuits that Finn hides in the galley.

You find Gwen reading in the library alone from time to time. At first, you kept your distance, reading further away from her. But after a while, you notice that her favourite chair gets closer to yours until you sit side by side with her, reading quietly under a single oil lamp.

There's never a dull moment on the ship, everyone does their share of the work, and everyone gets to eat and be left to their own devices during the night. It's great, you think. You don't worry about your next meal or where you need to sleep anymore.

Your mind has never been this quiet since you left home.

Surprisingly, Hobie's been diligent at keeping your regularly scheduled injury maintenance on time. Even if you forget, he would appear out of nowhere, clutching your bag of supplies in his hands with a shit eating grin that makes you want to rip his bandage off harshly.

The brightness of the sun filtering through the large window hinders your vision a bit as you carefully take Hobie's stitches off. Your brows are knitted together, eyes full of concentration as sweat drips on your forehead. You could've done this in the infirmary but Hobie had to do a bunch of work in his cabin so you're currently doing your best at managing while he walks around the large table sat in the middle of the room. You follow him with your sutures and scissors. The sight must have been hilarious because half of the crew were chuckling and stifling a laugh.

But the moment you were finished, you threw them the nastiest glare you could muster. Shutting them all up immediately, looking away from you nonchalantly. You pretend you don't see them hiding their smiles.

Sitting down on a free chair, huffing and with your arms aching, you twist your wrists around, massaging the tired muscles with your fingers.

Miles sits next to you, a piece of paper landing right on top of your hands. Your own face stares back at you, a pencil sketch of you, face full of concentration.

“Did you draw this?” You say, surprised and with a bright grin on your face.

“No, Hobie did.” He says sarcastically but you believed him for a second. “Of course I did, it was a bit hard when you were following Hobie around like a duckling.”

“That's a compliment, ducklings are cute, Miles.” He rolls his eyes, “this is amazing though, thank you. I haven't had my likeness drawn in…never actually.”

Miles smiles, taking out a small leather bound sketchbook from his back pocket. “Prepare to be surprised then.”

He flips through it, you get glimpses of drawings from far flung sceneries, animals that you don't know the names of and faces of the crew; some familiar, some are strangers to you. But you see more of Gwen's face amidst the pages. You fight the urge to tease him, maybe you'll do that when half of the crew isn't discussing battle plans in front of you. Their faces are serious and intense as Hobie lays out figures on a map.

“You're this bored, huh?” With your elbow resting on your thigh, you watch him stop on a page.

“Look at this one” he proudly says, eyes twinkling. Showing you the pages, his hand still holding it just in case you had the audacity to flip through it yourself.

You can't believe it's your own face staring back at you.

Your eyes smile in the drawing, the unmistakable shine of happiness in them. Face turned to side, clearly looking at something. Your lips are curled up into a grin like someone just told you the funniest joke ever. The shading is expertly done by Miles, *it's like staring into a mirror, you thought. You've never seen yourself this happy.

“I'm guessing I did a good job?” He smugly says, “you're staring at it way too long, narcissus is that you?” Miles jokes, but his smile fades when he sees your eyes glistening in the sun. “Oh shit, please don't cry. Hobie's gonna kill me if I made you cry.”

You sniff, casually hiding the heat behind your eyes. “It's really good.” Chuckling, you feel a pair of eyes on your form. “Thank you, I–” exhaling, you have no idea how to properly thank him. Settling on a fist bump on his arm, you awkwardly do just that. “Thanks, you made me look prettier.”

He laughs, sighing in relief. “Nah, it was no problem. Making you look good was the hardest part.”

“You ruined it,” you scrunch up your nose, feigning annoyance. Pushing the notebook, shoving it to his chest he laughs loudly, too loud apparently when someone from the room shushes you two.

Miles winces before turning back to you. “You know what helped though? In getting your expression right?”

“No?”

“Hobie,” he says with a quick gesture towards the man. A mischievous smirk on his face. “You were talking to Hobie while I was drawing this.” Lifting the page back up, “look how happy you were!” You close the book with his fingers still inside.

Yelping, he glares at you. “I made you a portrait and this is how you thank me?”

“Shut it” your eyes roam the room, looking for someone who's eavesdropping on the conversation. Thankfully no one is. “Don't act like Gwen isn't on every page of your book.” you whisper shout at him.

“Oh so you're saying that the same feelings I have for Gwen can be translated to your feelings towards Hobie?” He teases you right back, whispering quieter. “I owe Pav a coin.”

“You little–!” He rockets away from his seat, weaving through the crew. “Come back here, Miles!” Chasing him, careful not to shove anyone, your fast footsteps echo in the hallways.

Miles yells back, gaining speed ahead of you. “I have Hobie's version too if you'd like to see it!”

“No! Fuck you! I'll tell Gwen!”

He turns heel, now running after you. Cursing, you turn around, back to where you came from. Sprinting, you both pass by Hobie's cabin lightning fast. The crew's laughter echoes out while you try to escape Miles.

Hobie can't help but crack a smile even when the topic at hand is serious and dire.

—

With a book in front of you, hands smelling of ink and paper, you glance at Gwen who's leaning on your side comfortably, using you as her personal backrest. You don't mind it since she snuck in hot chocolate for you.

“I've been thinking—”

“That's dangerous, don't hurt yourself.” She murmurs.

“Funny, ha ha” you laugh sarcastically. She snorts, eyes still glued on the page. “Seriously though, what's on the bow of the ship? I've only seen mermaids and the occasional angel carved on it but I've never seen one like the one here. Where in the world did Hobie even get it?”

“It's a dragon.” Gwen says without looking back at you.

“A dragon? But it doesn't have any wings though?”

She sits up, gently laying the book on her lap, looking prim and proper. “A version of it, I guess? It's popular in the east.” You listen intently so she continues. “In their stories, the dragons symbolize luck and strength, which we need now more than ever.” stretching her neck, she continues. “And Hobie traded it in exchange for our boring old siren.”

You chuckle, “What's the difference between the ones in our mythology and theirs? Other than the lack of wings and looking way cooler.”

“They say they have the power to control the weather and are big enough to swallow the moon.” you whistle out, intrigued. “Maybe after the fight we can sail over there and show you around the place?” she asks, grinning.

“I'd love that.”

You should tell her that you're not staying after the fight, but you don't want to ruin the moment or her mood. You'll tell her when you get the chance, for now, you let them focus on what's coming.

“We named him Terrence by the way.”

You giggle. “I'll be sure to greet him every morning.”

—

The clean water splashed on your head is a nice reprieve from the searing heat. Being the so-called ‘doctor’ on the ship, Hobie thought it would be a great idea for you to also be their designated water girl to combat heat stroke. It's easy work, reminding them to drink water and also just dumping a splash of water on the crew's head using a soup ladle. You're having fun actually, just randomly (and sneakily) pouring water over their heads whenever they complain about the heat while toiling under the sun, watching them shriek and jump from the sudden gush of water. Now they rarely complain anymore, that just means you've done a good job at keeping them all alive under the heat.

But there's one person who you haven't dumped water on yet, which with the help of Finn and his strength, you're about to remedy that.

Hobie stands near the helm, observing Pavitr sailing the ship with ease. You and Finn carry the entire barrel of half full water, (it's mostly Finn doing the work) carefully sneaking behind Hobie to dump the entire contents on him.

Before you could signal Finn to pour it on Hobie, he turns around, hands placed on his hips and a face that says: I dare you.

You freeze mid step, darting your eyes towards your little helper. Finn shrugs, subtly pointing his head towards Hobie.

“Well—?” With one strong heave of the barrel, pointing it directly towards Hobie, the water hits him with a splash, completely drenching him.

The sound gets everyone's attention, seeing their captain wet as a freshly caught fish, the roaring laughter fills the ship, pointing, hollering and whistling at their captain.

The smile on your lips fades, eyes widening when you flick your eyes downward, you've never thought a harmless prank could make your heart beat faster and for heat to rise to your cheeks. And it's not the sun that's causing that or a symptom of heat exhaustion, no, it's Hobie and his unfortunate white cotton shirt that's completely soaked through, sticking to his skin, showing off his chiseled torso. You don't dare look further down, you might not recover from what you could possibly get a glimpse of.

Hobie splutters, wiping at his wet face, water dripping from his entire body. You swallow thickly, Finn notices your sudden silence. He looks at you with narrowed eyes, head tilted like he caught your hand in the cookie jar.

You blink rapidly, “W-what?” Side eyeing Finn. He raises a brow, “What? I may not like him but I still have eyes, you know.”

“Liar.” He says in a deep voice, making you do a double take.

“Did you just—?”

“Y/N,” Hobie addresses you, eyes telling you to run. “You better not let me catch you.”

You squeak, bolting immediately. The crew guffaws loudly like they're watching the best entertainment the sea could offer. Sprinting down the stairs, hearing footsteps behind you, your old injury flares up, almost tripping you.

Hobie catches you before you could fall flat on your face. His drenched arms around your middle, his clothes squelching on your back, the water seeping through your own clothes.

“Time to walk the plank again, Scuttlebutt!” He jokes but the way he carries you towards the plank has you wiggling out, hitting his arms.

“It was a joke!” You scream. He walks closer, “a jape!” Hobie stops near the edge. “A jest!”

His laugh reverberates, you feel his chest vibrating. He cranes his neck down, whispering close to the shell of your ear. “Did you really think I'll throw you overboard?” Goosebumps rise on your skin as he blows hot air. “I'll let Finn do it instead.”

Biting your lip, hands gripping his wrists, you decide to rag him on after knowing he won't actually throw you into the shark infested waters. “yeah? Why don't you do it yourself? Be a man, captain”

Behind you, the crew continues to cheer. Pav even lets out a ‘lets go!’

Hobie chuckles deeply, squeezing you once. “You cheeky—”

The alarm bells from the crow’s nest rings out, James yells from above. “Vessel approaching! Starboard!”

Hobie lets you go, taking a telescope from a serious looking Gwen.

The blood in your veins turn into ice, holding on to the railing, you grip it as you feel your knees give out.

You can't hear what anyone is saying with blood rushing in your ears, frantic voices indistinct, igniting your nerves. Your breathing turns shallow, you try to count backwards in your head but it's no use when your hands start shaking.

“Oi,” Hobie notices your distressed expression. Rushing to your side, his voice starts getting clearer when he places his hands on your cheeks, holding you gently like you're about to break from the slight pressure from his touch.

“Breathe, yeah?” He inhales and exhales, encouraging you to do the same. You copy him, staring only at Hobie. “There, good, just breathe.” His thumbs wipe at the tears you haven't noticed letting out.

After a beat of breathing in sync, Hobie nods. “It's alright, they're allies. You don't have to be scared.” He turns you around carefully, “see? They're waving.”

Pointing at a man clad in red, white and blue, Hobie squeezes your shoulder. “That's Captain Anarchy and right next to him is his first mate, Robbie Banner. They're here to help us win the fight.”

You calm down a little once you see the crew of the other ship smile and wave at you. Trusting Hobie, you look over your shoulder, his face too close to you, breath mixing in together. Flinching, you take a step back from his hold.

He lets you go, hands sliding away from your elbows, giving you space. You look uncharacteristically small in front of him, shoulders hunched, eyes looking down at your feet.

“You're alright, Y/N.” His reassuring and soft voice echoes amidst the rowdy crew behind him.

You could only nod.

—

It's been chaotic since the sons of the sea arrived. They have been welcoming and kind to you, too kind, in fact that you sometimes forget that they're pirates. Especially Robbie, he always goes out of his way to help your uneasiness. He once told you during dinner with the crew that he knows how it feels to be new; and for some reason he thought that you're Hobie's lover, saying that loving a pirate captain is pretty hard work. You shut down the conversation immediately.

Finally finding a time for yourself, you stretch your aching hands, gunpowder stuck in your nostrils. Hemp and pine tar sticking under your fingernails. You've never thought that you'd be preparing for war but here you are.

After the incident, you've made yourself scarce. With preparation and between meetings, you hadn't had a chance to speak with him. Or for Hobie to even try to approach you. His wounds have healed so you don't have any reason to keep seeing each other. But you find yourself holding on to two mugs of hot chocolate, trudging the cold hallways to his cabin.

The mugs are warm in your hands, the familiarity helping with your nerves. You have no idea what to say to him, maybe a simple thank you perhaps? You didn't intend to become that vulnerable in front of him, so maybe an apology? Whatever you end up saying to him, it all has to start with a simple knock on his door which you're currently standing stiffly in front of.

Juggling two mugs in one hand, you place your knuckles on the wood. Your ears perk up at the muffled voices inside. Against better judgment, you place your ear above the door, eavesdropping on the conversation.

“—She’s not her, Hobie. I've seen how you act around her, how you look at her.” You strain your ears to hear better. “It's the same with MJ.” You blink in surprise.

“Gwen,” Hobie sighs, there's rustling on his end. “I don't like what you're insinuating.”

“I'm not insinuating anything. I'm saying this as a friend to you and to her. Don't. Just…don't” there's footsteps, “She's good for the crew, Hobie. We can't lose her.”

“I know she is.”

Gwen scoffs. “You just proved my point.”

“She's not her, I get it. Can you please go back to preparin’?”

“No, not until you get it in your thick skull.” she pauses. “She's her own person. I see it too, the similarities in their personalities. But Y/N’s not MJ.”

You almost drop the mugs.

“I know she's not MJ. I don't fancy her, I tolerate her.”

“Are you sure? Because you keep–”

His voice shakes. “MJ is gone and Y/N is Y/N. I know she's not MJ.”

Backing away from the door, emotions swirling into a dangerous concoction, face flat and lips downturned. You slowly bend down to place the mug on the side of his cabin door.

You have no idea how to react or confront it, so you just walked away. Throwing the information in the back of your mind, hoping it doesn't seep into your bones. Hope that it doesn't rot and spoil inside.

—

The sky is heavy with dark clouds, thunder booming like drum beats, lightning peeking out in the night. A storm is coming, you can feel it in your tendons, the smell of petrichor looming overhead, temperature dropping significantly. The fog obscuring the way doesn't help with your icy nerves. The rest of the crew battens down the windows, preparing to weather out the storm. You're not even that close to the destination and yet the sky is already preventing the ship from going further.

The sea is unusually calm despite the storm brewing ahead. A possible omen to what's to come next. You pray that you're wrong.

Shutting your window, locking it in place, you take your medical bag that's hanging from the cabin's doorknob. Making sure the door is properly closed, you head over to the deck.

You almost collide into a body, their hands holding on to your elbows.

“Woah there!” He holds you at arm's length. “You alright, doc?” His genuine smile makes the day a tad brighter.

“Captain Anarchy, hello and please don't call me that. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually a doctor.” You chuckle lightly.

“I won't call you doc if you don't call me captain anarchy.”

“Alright, what should I call you then?”

“Karl's fine. I'm not your captain anyway so why bother calling me captain y’know?”

You nod, “Yeah, I get it. Are you lost? These are the cabins.”

“Shit, yeah.” He scratches his head. “I swear this place is built like a maze. I'm looking for the galley actually, Finn said I can borrow some ingredients. I'm planning on cooking for everyone tonight.”

“That's really nice of you, thanks. I'll show it to you if you want?”

“That would be fantastic, thank you!”

Gesturing behind him, you lead him while he laughs at his own blunder. “Wait, Finn talked to you?”

“Mm-hmm, I've known him for a while. The secret is to talk about produce and spices then you won't be able to get him to shut up.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” You chuckle, shaking your head. Deciding to make small talk while weaving around hallways, you ask him. “How long have you been a pirate?”

He sighs, “Too fucking long.”

“Looking to retire?” you look over your shoulder, his face says it all.

“Absolutely, we're all just saving up so we could settle comfortably somewhere. Unfortunately taxes are really fucking high these days thanks to the asshole in the big chair.”

“You got that right. All these wars and sponsoring explorations got the people's coffers dry and empty.”

“Exactly! Man, Hobie really knows how to pick them, huh?” He shakes your shoulder like you're old friends. You don't flinch away, in case you offend the only ally Hobie has.

“We're not together.” you say flatly.

“That right? Sorry. Well, he did pick the right crew member then.”

“More like he fished me out of the sea.”

He laughs, the sound reminding you of a bird chirping. Karl looks at your humorless face. “Wait, seriously.”

“Yep, that's a story for another day because we're here.” you open the doors for him, showing him the galley.

“Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.” he shoots you a friendly wink.

“Of course, just give me extra portions later.” you joke.

He chortles, “I'll save the bigger bowl for you”

Before you leave, there's a question that's unfortunately gnawing in your head.

“Can I ask you something?”

He peeks over the counter, blue eyes staring back at you. “Shoot.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, it just means go ahead.”

“Right, uh…Did you know Hobie three years ago?” You cross your arms on your chest.

“I've known him far longer than that.”

“How was he back then?”

Karl thinks for a moment. He smiles, “Best damn pirate I've ever seen, next to me of course. He was younger, wide eyed, hungry for adventure, more than ready to take down the crown itself. Safe to say he's ambitious, he still is but—” he shakes his head. “For a different reason now.”

“Do you not think he can take down Matthias?”

“I have faith that he can and he will eventually. But I'm afraid that I'll never see that wide eyed Hobie ever again. He's gotten used to the flames, feeding it, letting it consume him. I don't think he'll be able to fight that fire after he gets what he wants.”

You clench your jaw. “What happened to MJ?”

“I don't think I'm the right person to tell you that.”

Nodding, you wordlessly thank him with a small smile.

“Wait, Y/N.” he calls for you.

“Yeah?”

“Whatever happens, help him douse the fire? For everyone's sake.”

“I— I'll do my best.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Promise me, please. I owe MJ that much.”

You exhale shakily. “I promise.”

Turning to leave, you fight with yourself. How could you make that promise when you plan to leave after Hobie wins? How do you keep that promise when you can't even look him in the eye? How do you tell Gwen and the others when their hearts are set to you staying on board?

Will it be worth it for you to leave what you currently have for someone who may not even exist?

You pause in the middle of the barren hallway, hand clutching tightly at the straps of your bag. Breathing heavily, you feel it rearing its ugly head again.

Your thoughts get interrupted by the alarm bells ringing, this time instead of curling around yourself, you decide to face it head on despite the shaking in your legs. The crew needs you, and you need them.

Crash!

The ship lunges harshly to the side, flinging you to the wall, head pounding on the hardwood.

Your vision blurs, white dots dancing, ears ringing and your head stinging from the impact.

“Fuck…” you crawl, doing your best to get up on the deck.

“They need you. Get up, lazybones.”

Hearing her voice whisper into your ear, makes you laugh coldly. You're probably concussed.

With a groan, you lift yourself up, using the wall as leverage.

With every heavy step, you straighten up, ignoring the pain in the back of your head. Walking up the steps makes you dizzy but you continue on.

Holding on to the door frame triumphantly, you reach the deck.

The fog has reached the ship, covering the entire deck in its thick mist. You notice the quiet, and the lack of movement from the crew. They all just stand stiffly, spaced away from each other. holding their weapons in their hands in a tight grip, the only indication that they're alright.

You spot Hobie in the middle of the crowd, eyes staring into the sea.

“Hobie?” You softly say. Grabbing his arm, you jump when he takes your wrist without taking his eyes off from what he's staring at.

His hand shakes, you're afraid to look.

“Y/N,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I'm sorry.”

His apology makes you follow his gaze.

The thick fog makes way for a dozen ships sailing towards you at incredible speeds, they open the lamps on their bows one by one. Like a hunter's gaze, they petrify you.

With your heart trying to escape your chest, you turn starboard, hopeful for a way out. But the sight alone would make you weep.

A larger ship looms over the revenge, its bow crashed on the side of the now splintered wood of the ship. The navy ship is Gilded and pristine, decorated with carvings of asphodels. The crowned angel with her wings spread out on the bow looks down at you through her wooden eyes.

Hobie clutches on to you tighter, scowling, shaking in sheer anger.

A menacing laugh echoes into the eerie silence.

You're surrounded.

hobie brown x shy/quiet!reader headcanons

spider-punk x reader this is not a drill

long as hell I’m so sorry

a/n: reader is mentioned as being a mom friend but imo that can be gender neutral so this can still be read by anyone!! if that makes you uncomfortable though please skip this post :)

I also imagine hobie as being 19-ish so it’s kinda implied reader lives alone but can def be read as younger!!

most people didn’t notice you at first.

you were quiet; really quiet. you’d mumble your thank you’s, whisper apologies, and generally go out of your way not to interact with people as a whole.

I feel like that gentleness/softness would almost draw hobie to you though?

he’d definitely first meet you as spider-man; saving you from some sort of robber or attacker. and then he’d see you be so shy about thanking him and apologizing as if it was your fault??? he finds it sweet but also kinda concerning for you tbh

and over time he begins to notice you more and more during his patrols; something about you just draws him in.

he definitely likes that you don’t try to tell him or others what to do lol

after talking to you enough as spider-man, and you start to open up, he begins to like you even more

you listen to some of the music he likes? your humour?? not to mention how genuine you are???

(also very useful if you happen to be a “mom friend” type who keeps first aid, candy, etc on you at all times!! he’d definitely appreciate a lollipop to help with the pressure changes while swinging around or a bandage for his cuts)

speaking of which if you ARE the type to have those things on you he may start seeking you out if/when he gets hurt

and after that even when he’s not tbh he’ll just pretend to have a headache and eat some of your candy on your couch lmao-

one time though he comes with wounds a little too serious looking for the standard wet cloth and bandaid treatment you had been used to; and it scares you

you raise your voice a bit louder than he’d ever heard, in a scared tone that was different than your normal anxious voice, and you tell him he should probably definitely go to a hospital

“but I like you so much better” he leans in a little too close, holding on to you a little too tight to keep himself steady, and you suddenly realize the reality of you situation

spider-man is in your living room. he’s bleeding a lot. and you’re the first person he thought to come to; because he likes you? not like that obviously- unless it is like that? NO. people barely even notice you, no one would ever feel like that type of thing for-

“you’re staring” you can feel the shit eating grin on his face; it’s practically burning through his mask

you stutter out an apology and after stammering around for a moment you get him to sit down and do your best to treat his injuries

you can tell the disinfectant stings by the way he flinches whenever you apply it, as well as his teasing that he “thought you were supposed to be nicer than the nurses” but he does his best to sit still and let you dress all of his wounds

you both remain still for a moment, and you think you can feel his eyes on you but you’re too scared to look up. your hands are shaking; they have been this whole time.

“that’s everywhere right? I didn’t miss something?”

he takes off his mask to look you in the eye and tell you he’s okay but you’re just like ????

:O

ANYWAYS you are once again staring bc you now know spider-man’s identity???

I feel like he’s gently hold your face and just give you a quick peck to make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries

but if you kiss him back? he’s NEVER stopping

he’ll start randomly crawling through your window with excuses of missing you or wanting to show you something

and soon he’s staying the night at your place or he’s swinging you over to his so you can stay with him

I think dates would definitely be super chill and more like hanging out at each others places than anything else

but if he does a show for his music he’d definitely want you there!!

he’d also probably pick you up and start swinging around the city with no warning just for the way you’ll grab on to him so tightly-

but ofc is you asked him not to he’d stop immediately!

doesn’t get super jealous or anything, he’s a pretty chill guy, but he will get sorta bothered if someone’s aggressively pursuing you even after knowing you two are together

like if someone doesn’t know and flirts with you he’s just like “yeah I’m lucky”

but if someone ever went so far to imply you should be unfaithful and/or should leave him he’d probably tell them to back off and either leave with you or put his arm around your shoulder and glare at them until they leave

either way he’s not starting any fights or anything though; he’s super comfortable in your relationship and hopes you are too

genuinely thinks you’re the most beautiful/handsome person ever like he WILL flex to the other spider-people if relationships come up

he’s really not in to pda though; he’ll put his arm around your shoulders/waist but that’s it. maybe hand holding depending on the situation.

but when you guys are alone he likes physical touch; don’t expect to be on top of each other or anything but having your/his head rested on the others lap or him just resting his hand on your leg is pretty common

he’s also not very big into gifts (he doesn’t buy into the capitalist need for abundance and all that) but he does like giving you jewellery/other wearable items bc he likes to see a reminder of himself/your relationship on you

pls make him a bracelet or something he’ll literally never take it off (also jewellery for any of his piercings is fair game)

he values small intimate things in a relationship; like painting each others nails, listening to each other rant about things you’re passionate about, etc

overall he may not be big and showy but he’s an amazing boyfriend and would love you like a lot

he’d also definitely write songs about/for you bc you’re so important to him and he wants the whole world to know that :((

I haven’t written fanfiction in forever but if anyone has any hobie requests I could write as headcanons I’m open to them!! :)