- summary : After arriving to your meeting late, you find out that you've been directed to share your classroom with the new hire.
!!} teacher AU - no y/n - light clothing + hair desc, no gender desc
( word count: 1.5k+ )
As you stand in front of the school building, you frantically fumble with your lanyard to find the right key. The rustling of your thin raincoat, shaky breathing, and trinkets scattered in your bag flinging around echo around the schoolâs entrance.
âCome on..â You grunt through gritted teeth, wiping rain from your forehead with your wrist.
The automatic âbeep!â of the door made you sigh in relief as you stepped through the entrance. A big gust of cold wind immediately hits your face as you enter, the ends of your hair strike your face, forcing rainwater into your eyes and leaving a stinging sensation on your cheeks. Not only were you late for your meeting, you were also soaking wet from head to toe and exhausted from grading papers the night before. You give a quick smile to the unimpressed secretary and bored children slumped in small uncomfortable chairs. You try to calm yourself down as you speed walk to the stairway. You sigh looking up at the dreadful flights of stairs awaiting you. Determined, you remind yourself that you only had to stay here for half an hour, and you could leave as quickly as you came. You shake off the tiredness and forcefully pursue yourself up each step.
A wave of relief hits you as you finally reach the top of the mountainous staircase. Taking a few deep breaths, you cleansed your head of all the thoughts that swarmed and pestered your mind and plastered a bright smile on your face.Â
â Youâve got this! Theyâll understand why youâre late⌠That thunderstorm could blow the whole school away at this rate. Itâll all be- â
Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a click of a door. The âSTAFF MEETINGâ door to be specific.
â Youâre kidding...â
All of your coworkers emerge from the room in an almost clown car-ish fashion. You hurriedly step out of the way as they all leave to their respected classrooms. Questioning yourself on whether to leave or stay, you watch each of them as they leave. Some looked back at you; a handful recognized your situation and gave a look of pity. Others grimaced at the wet puddle of a person stupidly standing outside of the meeting door. A small amount didnât care enough to notice, but you knew they were probably wondering why it smelled of rainwater and hair product. Everyone looked so professional and put together; meanwhile you had rain seeping into your socks, and your hair was actively frizzing up as each second passed. With a sigh, you finally decided to return back to your classroom. Just as you turned around, the last person exited the meeting room. He was a broad, dark chestnut-haired man with a grey suit with a striped yellow and baby blue tie. His gold pin with the bold words âPrincipal Ayerâ reflected in the light. The man caught a glimpse of you and let out a relieved sigh. You gave him a mindless smile, praying that he didnât notice your absence.
He catches up to you with a smile and greets you.
âIâm so glad I caught you. I know youâre ready to go back to the classroom and prepare for the end of break, but we've hired a new music teacher.â He explained.
You nodded at his vague explanation, waiting for him to go on.
âBut, unfortunatelyâŚâ He started. âWe donât have enough classrooms to let him have his own..â
You blankly stared at him. Your classroom was inherently smaller than the core classes, and to be sharing the already cluttered space with a random man and his students would be suffocating.
âWell, Principle Ayerââ
âNow I know what youâre thinking;â He interrupted. ââWe wonât have enough space!â. But I spoke with Mrs. Vandi -- the English teacher a few doors down -- and sheâs offered to give you her classroom in March. Itâll only be a temporary installment.â
Thinking about the offer, you sigh in defeat. Although you were beyond annoyed, you knew Principal Ayer was trying his best to help out. At least he was trying to make things easier on you. You gave a weak smile and nodded.
âYeah.. Sure." You agreed with a fake smile, attempting to hide your disappointment.
âI knew youâd accept! I almost thought Iâd have to store him in one of the gym classrooms!â He joked to himself. âSo itâs all worked out! Two electives in the same room!â He smiled, patting your shoulder.â
The gym classrooms were one of the only classrooms that werenât renovated after the school was eligible for the grant money. They were stored away and were mainly used for student held clubs and in school suspension rooms. You were also pretty sure thatâs where all of the questionable students went to do their questionable things. You couldnât possibly bring yourself to just let the new hire settle in there.
âYup! Just.. helping out!â You croak with a smile.
He hums in agreement. âWell again, I do appreciate it. He seems like quite the character. Iâm sure you both will get along fine.â
âMhm!..â Â You mumble, forcing a smile as he walks away.
-
You finally arrived to your classroom, still thinking about the interaction. You pulled your land yard from your pocket and grabbed your classroom keys. You placed your hand on the doorknob to find it unlocked, although you could have sworn that you locked it when you left yesterday. Cautiously, you open the door and walk in. Looking around the room you begin to hear rustling in the closet followed by a quiet curse. You quickly turn around to see the storage closet light on and a shadow wisping around.
âHello?...â You called out as you fully entered the room, gripping your keys tightly.
The shadow immediately stopped in its place, the sound of boxes falling down attached to another husky curse exited the closet. You hear an array of footsteps â presumably walking over the mess of a storage closet â a lanky man with wild, but nicely kept wicks stepped out wiping dust from his shirt.
Before you could even begin to trigger your fight or flight, he smiled and reached his hand out for a handshake. âYou must be the art teacher.â He greeted, looking up from his shirt.
âUh-huh⌠And youâre the new music teacher?â You asked as you took his hand and shook it.
âLucky guess.â He chuckled, lightly squeezing your hand in return.
As you both let go there was a slight pause letting you both take the opportunity to study each other. You admired his accent and charm (...and appearance). Noticing his gaze; you scolded yourself for staring. You divert your vision to the messy storage closet again.
The man caught on to the awkward situation and quickly spoke to cut the silence. âAh, youâre wonderinâ how I got in here..â He finished your thoughts, holding up a set of keys. âPrincipal Ayer gave âem to me. Sorry if I startled you luv.â
You couldnât help but smile at how genuine he sounded. You quickly shook your head, âNo! No, youâre fine. I wish I knew you were coming earlier though. I would have cleaned the closet a bit.â You explained, awkwardly gesturing to said closet.
âAh, nothinâ to worry about. âS not too bad.â He consoles a warm smile. âHow long have you been teaching?â
âNot too long. Iâve always been interested in teaching art so Iâve been helping around with art lessons here and there. I was only hired here at the start of this year.â You told him, setting your keys on your desk.
âHm, I guess weâre both sorta new to this teaching thing huh?â He asked, moving closer.
âGuess soâŚâ You giggled against better judgement. You internally cursed yourself again with an almost unnoticeable wince. âWell, what about you?â You started, clearing your throat. âHave you taught music before?â
âNot at all,â The man replied aloofly. âBut itâs always been a passion of mine so why not try to inspire others with it.â He shrugged.
Oh, he was absolutely perfect. You couldnât help but smile at his answer. Another wave of silence washed over the two of you. You fidgeted with your hands as the sound of the rain started to settle in. The man took another detailed glance at you. He admired your personality and how you practically radiated throughout the classroom. He was definitely excited to work with you to say the least.
As the rain began to pick up you realized what you came in for. âWell, Iâm going to head out before it gets bad out.â You said, heading to your desk and grabbing a stack of personal essays and stuffing it in your tote. âI hope you find what youâre looking for also! If you have any questions you can always ask meâŚâ You paused, silently asking for his name.
âHobart Brown. I go by Hobie.â He said with a fond look.
âNice name.â You smiled, grabbing your keys and heading towards the door.
âI presume yours is nice too?â He questioned, jokingly.
You laughed at his bluntness and told him your name in return. He repeated it with an impressed nod.
âIt fits you luv.â He chuckled. It almost hid the sincerity in his voice.
âYours too, Hobie.â You called out before leaving.
The silence flooded into the classroom once again. As itâs followed by the rain and the fading sound of your boot heel hitting the ground, Hobie couldnât help but smile with a slight shake of his head. You were a breath of fresh air.
a / n: woah, second fic posted!! can't really tell if i'm proud of it or not.. idk. this took me wayy longer than i wanted it to take and i wanted to add a lil new years addition but i was too eager to post it..
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rafe wasnât always so buff. when you two first started dating he was sorta lanky. you would pinch his thin arms and tease him. when he starts buffing out? holy shit you canât get enough of him.
heâs come home from the gym and the first thing you do is shove your face into his chest, inhaling him as you rub your face against his pecs. he wraps his arm around your head, practically suffocating you in him. âmell goo.â you mumble into his chest. your hand slowly trails up and you squeeze his pec. like itâs a boob. he hisses and smacks your hand away, shoving you playfully.
you pout, âi wanna squeeze.â
he snickers out a laugh, smacking your hand away from him again. âleave me alone.â
this brightens you up. âare you ticklish?â your tone is teasing, fingers twiddling at him.
he lets out a full bodied laugh at this, pushing your hands away again. âget off, weirdo.â
âjust let me honk your tit and iâll stopâ
âi donât have tits.â
âdude, theyâre staring right at meâ
âim not your dudeâ
âokay my beautiful dude let me honk itâ
âim feeling very sexualizedâ
another time when you guys are getting ready for bed. heâs brushing his teeth and youâre applying under eye cream. his arms look absolutely delicious, flexing soflty as he keeps brushing. you canât control yourself.
you chomp down on his bicep. he stares at you completely bewildered. âdid you bithe me?â mouth full of toothpaste
âyou looked yummyâ you say it lamely. as if itâs no big deal
âyouâre like a dogâ
âonly like? Letâs solidify thatâ you chomp the air
he laughs, playfully shoving your face away from him.âget away from meâ
âcome on, itâs just cute aggression. I need to get it outâ
âcute aggression? you think im cute??â
you shrug again, nodding. âiâll show you cute baby,â he scoops you up trodding you over to your shared bed as you laugh happily. âitâs my turn to honk and bite youâ
Simon Riley is the type to mutter, âSuit yourself,â when you ask him if you can call him something cute.
You could call him Shithead all day, for all he cares. It wouldnât dent that invisible iron door in his chest, because he doesnât give a shit what you say or donât say about him, what you like or donât like. Heâs his own island, he doesnât need your good opinion or anyone elseâs.
But what he doesnât know about you, is that youâre fucking annoying. It starts soft as little âbabyâs and âsweetieâs, and of course he doesnât even bat an eyelash. Just the usual puppy love bullshit, itâll wear off.
But then you start slipping in the âmy favorite person in the whole worldâs and the âprecious thingâs, and heâs narrowing his eyes a little, growing uncomfortable with how that settles something stuffy in his lungs. Itâs a little too far for his liking, but he did say you could call him anything. And he is, well, incredibly competitive. So he decides he can take it.
âDelicious lil guy,â you whisper into his neck after youâve given him a good chomp.
âPrettiest thing Iâve ever seen,â you sigh, running your hands through his wet hair after a shower.
âSweet little baby cupcake,â you mumble when he wraps himself after you after getting home from work past midnight.
All heartfelt and honest, and unfortunately for him, stone cold sober.
âHave you seen me?â he finally demands one night, after youâve kissed all over his face and told him how perfect it is.
You frown down at him, a little confused. ââŚyes?â
âIâve gotâ fuckingââ he makes a gesture with his hand, indicating his face.
You narrow your eyes and really squint, trying to figure out what heâs getting at.
âScars,â he finally huffs.
âOh, yeah.â You smile down at him, tracing the history of violence with your eyes. âI forgot about those.â
âYou forgot?â
âI havenât really noticed them since like the first few weeks. Arenât brains funny?â
Puppy love, he reminds himself, as you settle into his arms and sigh happily. This slicing pain in his chest and the burning in his eyes⌠this is puppy love. Itâs totally normal to feel like heâd rather throw himself off a building than see you hurt. It doesnât matter that he spends his time before falling asleep just thinking about you, inventing new ways to make your life better in any way he can conceive.
Summary: Hobie was not the best boyfriend. Itâs not his fault, he has an obligation to his city and by proxy, the multiverse. But, he doesnât want to lose you. Unfortunately, revealing his secret does the opposite of what he had hoped.
Tags: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort,Canon-Divergence, (Hobie doesnât reveal himself after killing Osbourne, Comic villains and events but movie Hobie, Heâs supposed to be British but I forgot like halfway through writing)
Words: 3147
authorâs note: If I had a nickel for everytime a girl broke up with her superhero bf bcs he lied abt being a superhero I would have 2 nickels.
Honestly tho I rly donât like the whole âIâm upset because you lied to meâ trope in the superhero genre. I feel like thereâs a much better reason to break up with a superhero so hereâs my idea. Iâll talk more abt it in the end note.
Anyway enjoy!
AO3 Version
My AO3
Masterlist
Soaring through the air with nothing but a thin string as support, fighting monsters 3 times his size sometimes from a different universe, killing the fucking Prime Minister; none of these things have brought him as much anxiety as he feels in this moment.
It was so late, after 2 in the morning, and he was rushing back to his apartment grunting in pain from his injuries. Itâs never fun fighting Kingpin, but hopefully after tonight he wonât have to do that anymore. Kamala had finally discovered his new place of hiding, Osbourneâs old bunker.
No matter how badly his ribs stung with every thwip and pull, he didnât let up or slow down for a second. You were waiting for him. Youâve been waiting for him since he left at 8. Fuck, itâs been 6 hours? How did he let time fly like that?
âSheâs going to kill me,â he lightly joked to himself. His stomach turned, he knows deep down that you were getting down to your last straw. Youâre always so sweet about his disappearances. He tells you he needs to go; âBeing in-charge of a non-profit anti-establishment organization dedicated to the dismantling of our government doesnât allow you to have much free time, love. Iâll be back,â he would say. Your gorgeous smile would present itself and he just has to give you a kiss before he leaves. That smile has become less bright in recent months.
Youâve started voicing your annoyance as well. âYeah, so Iâve heard,â you would respond. Or, âDuty calls?â With an eye roll. His least favorite response was, âWhy donât you date the organization instead?â The chuckle you let out after that was so dry and your smile was so empty. It scared him.
There were times where he wasnât there in the first place. He regrets those the most. Heâs missed so many important things, some of which he couldnât understand how or why you forgave him. He certainly wouldnât have if he was in your position. You had to be an angel or something. Fuck, he loves you.
Tonight was supposed to be a shut-in date night. Just the two of you, some junk food, and a scary movie that youâve been dying to see. His watch beeped with a message: got a lead on Fisk. He looked at you and you justâŚlet him go. You didnât smile, you didnât frown, you just looked into his eyes and turned away.
âIâll be right back, I promise.â You didnât respond, and at that moment, he decided that when he got back there would be no more secrets. No more sneaking around. No more lies. He loved you and you deserved to know.
From what he could see through the window, the lights were off. A part of him is relieved, hoping you werenât awake so he could just take care of his injuries and slip into bed next to you. He would just have to wait to tell you tomorrow morning.
But, that plan is put to shit when he opens the window and quietly steps inside his living room. The tv is off and the snacks have been cleared. Hobie starts to panic. Did you go home?
He slips off his shoes in case you were sleeping soundly in his room and starts to walk slowly towards it. The door is cracked just a bit and the light is off there too. The entire apartment was shrouded in darkness, the only possible light coming through windows from the moon. He looks through the crack and relaxes upon seeing your silhouette in bed. He lets out a quiet sigh and creeps away to the bathroom.
âHobie?â He freezes. A few seconds pass and he hears the bed creaking and feet shuffling across the floor. He still doesnât turn around as his door opens to reveal you in your pajamas, face puffy, and eyes red.
You had been waiting for him to get home for what felt like forever. You were so excited earlier today, but there was this unrelenting churn in your stomach telling you that he would leave eventually. And of course, you were right.
Honestly, you didnât understand why you were still with him at this point. You know he lies about where he is. Youâve known ever since he invited you to a protest his non profit put together. You told him you wanted to become an official member and he shot it down immediately. âToo dangerous for a peng-thing such as yourself,â he told you. He was right about it being dangerous, everyone was gassed and it hadnât even been 15 minutes. But that didnât matter. You wanted to be a part of it. Especially after they got to witness Prime Minister Osbourneâs beheading.
He didnât even use it as an excuse most of the time. When you would wait for him to meet with you, his reasonings were fickle if he even had any.
âGot caught up with something,â
âOne of my mates needed me, you know how that goes,â
âIt doesnât matter, Iâm here now arenât I?â
Oh, and there was your favorite, âGet off my back, will you? Iâve got a life too.â The times where he had nothing to say at all, as painful as it was, were much better. You were so sick of it and you just hoped that he could tell.
Right now, in this moment, youâre not sure because he still hasnât turned around. You couldnât see much in the darkness of the hallway, but you at least knew it was him and he was walking away. âYou canât even look at me?â
Hobie stood still, his mind racing. He didnât know what to do. He didnât want to see the look on your face. He knew you were disappointed. He could hear it in your voice. ââŚI,â he clears his throat. âI didnât think you would still be awake.â He cringes.
You blink at him. âYou didnât think I would still be awake?â You repeated vexedly, your voice growing stronger.
âI didnât mean it like that,â Hobie tries to save.
You closed your eyes and took in a sharp breath. âYou knowâŚif youâre cheating on me, Iâd rather you be honest about it.â
Hobie finally turns around. In the dark, you canât see his mask, but he can see you perfectly. You looked so dejected and it destroyed him. He could tell that you had been crying before he got here, and now youâre eyes were welling up again. His chest pangs.
âI donât appreciate you leaving me without a word and coming back whenever you want,â you continue, your voice breaking. A tear slips down your face and you quickly wipe it away only for another to follow right after. âDo you think Iâm stupid?â You sob, trying to remain strong as he walks towards you. âThat I would just be okay with that shit?â
Hobie still doesnât answer. Instead, he stands a couple feet away from you right next to the light switch. âAre you not going to answer me?â You growl at him. Still, nothing. âHo-â
The light turns on. His name halts in your throat as you gaze upon him. Your tears donât stop and you raise your hand to your mouth, a shaky gasp escaping you. Hobie finally peels his mask off to reveal his cut up face.
For a moment, thereâs nothing but silence as you try and process this new information. Hobie wasâŚSpider-man. Your boyfriend was Spider-man. Thatâs why. Thatâs why he was never there. Thatâs why he can never be there. Hobie opens his mouth, the breath he takes being enough to cut through the tension. âIâm sorry.â
He continues to walk towards you, praying that you donât walk away. Youâre frozen in place. âIâm so sorry.â He holds his arms out and embraces you in a tight hug relaxing into your arms when you lift them up and wrap them around his neck. You bury your head into his shoulders making his suit wet from your tears.
Hobieâs lips begin to quiver. He swallows a sob before speaking again. âI didnât know how to tell you...â His voice cracks while trying to find the right words to say. âI justâŚI am so sorry for lying to you. Iâm so fucking sorry.â
For a while, the both of you just stand there in each otherâs presence. There was a feeling of anxiousness in the air; for Hobie, he was worried why you hadnât said anything. As for youâŚ
âCome on.â You grabbed his hand and walked the both of you to his bathroom where you sat him on the toilet and tended to his facial wounds. You remained completely silent, still trying to gather all of your thoughts. It made him all the more terrified.
Hobie repeatedly geared himself up to speak to you, but ultimately kept his mouth closed. What could he say? It was you who needed to talk. You needed to tell him how worried for him you would be. You needed to tell him how happy you were that he was okay. You needed to tell him how angry you were at him for lying to you.
You neededâŚyou neededâŚ
He needed you to say something. Anything.
But you didnât know how to tell him. And when you were done with his face he stood up and took your hand to walk the both of you back to his room. You followed at first, but quickly stopped. He looked back at you in confusion, his heart racing. âWhat is it?â
You let go of his hand with him refusing to do the same. It went limp in his hold as you stared at the ground. Your eyes filled with tears and fell just as quickly. Without looking up, you finally told him what was on your mind. âIâŚI was going to break up with you tonight.â
His heart dropped. He releases a huff having been completely floored by that charged sentence. What do you mean you were going to break up with him? What do you mean there was no saving the relationship the moment he left? What do you mean he was too late?
His mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to convey his shock. âWas?â He decides upon, foolishly hopeful.
The breath that you take in, the look on your face, and the tears falling down it killed anything inside him that held onto the possibility that you still wanted to be with him. So he lets go of your hand too. âNo.â You say.
Hobie is appalled. His eyes dart around the hallway as his mind tries to make sense of what was happening. His breathing gets harder and faster. He begins to shake his head. âI donât-,â he stutters, âI-I donât understand.â
âHobie-â
âI mean, IâŚâ he hikes his shoulders up and holds up his hands. Finally, he looks at you. His chest aches at the sight of you, heâs never seen you so dejected. He gestures at himself. âYou seeâŚyou see why.â
You walk towards him and put your hand on his chest to try and calm him down. It does nothing. Instead he holds his own hand over yours to keep it there. âAnd I am so glad that you trusted me enough to tell me. Your secret is safe with me, Hobie.â After telling him that, you lose any resolve you had and sob. Your voice is strained when you talk, and you have to take small pauses to catch your breath and remain coherent. âBut that doesnât change the fact that you missed my graduation-â
âI was almost eaten alive.â he quickly defends, remembering that annoying day. The Inheritors have become a very big nuisance since Osbourneâs death and are the reason for so many of his disappearances. He would explain all of this to you if you gave him the chance.
You scrunch your face with a look of confusion, but when he doesnât explain any further, you continue. âAnd you missed my recital-â
âSo I could keep Kraven from fucking up 38th street.â He was starting to get upset. Itâs like you werenât listening to him. He was Spider-man. Of course he couldnât be there for every facet of your life. And you knew that now. SoâŚwhat the fuck? âIf I hadnât done that, your mates wouldnât have anywhere to live.â
You could hear the annoyance in his tone and body language, and it made you a little miffed. âI understand that-â
âDo you?â
You slap your head in frustration. âYouâre not getting it, Hobie. You werenât there-â
âYeah, I fucking couldnât be because Iâm too busy trying un-fuck our city and everyone in it. Including you.â He says, slightly raising his voice. How dare you get mad at him when youâre the one whoâs leaving? âI mean, Iâm showing you why I canât be there and itâs still not enough?â
You never stopped crying, but now you were pissed. You glared at him. âYou think that fixes everything? It doesnât change the fact that I stood outside the auditorium and waited for you right before and right after my name was called for nothing. Or that I almost fucked up my solo because I couldnât think about anything besides the fact that you werenât there.â
Hobie raises a finger at you. âI-â
âStop interrupting me!â You shout, immediately recoiling but keeping your glare. Hobie blinks at you in disbelief. âKnowing that you were off saving the world does not mean I didnât need you there with me when my sister was-â Choking on your words, you cover your mouth with your hand in a feeble attempt to hide the sob that escaped. Hobieâs anger dissipated and all that was left was utter heartbreak.
You took a second to recollect yourself, shying away from his touch when he reached out to you. He drops his arm by his side. âI donât understand,â he whispers, his voice breaking.
Taking another deep breath, you drop the ball on him , finally. âIf youâre worried Iâm going to go off and tell Jonah Jameson-â
âNo,â he practically shouts. âIâm not fucking worried about that. Iâm upset, because my girlfriend is breaking up with me!â
âDonât fucking yell at me!â
Hobie slams his hands against his head and walks away from you, panting. All you can do is watch him, anticipating his next move. Bracing yourself for whatever heâll say out of anger.
After a few moments of breathing, he drops his hands and turns to look at you. âSo what you just-donât love me anymore?â
âWhat?â
âIs that it? Thereâs someone else?â
You furrowed your brows and looked around the room wondering where the hell he got that from. âThe fuck? No!â
âSo why donât you want to be with me anymore?â
You groaned in frustration and covered your face with your hands. He just wasnât getting it. âThatâs not what Iâm saying-â
âThe fuck are you saying?â His voice louder than itâs ever been towards you.
âI want to be with you, Hobie,â you tell him, the tears never ending. Your voice, as loud as it is, shakes and cracks. Hobie grabs his hair, his mind completely scattered. You were confusing him left and right. Why canât you just come out and say-
âI donât want to be with Spider-Man.â
Everything seems to stop. The only sound being you calming yourself down as you take some deep breaths. You couldnât look at Hobie, you just couldnât. As for him, he couldnât stop looking at you utter disbelief and heartbreak.
His bottom lip quivered as it hung open. His nostrils began to flare. His chest rose and fell as he felt the lump in his throat grow. Why wonât you look at him? Please look at himâŚplease?
âYouâŚI donâtâŚâ he simply canât find the words to describe how he felt. To put it simply, you were breaking his heart. He loves you. He fucking loves you so much. It hurts that thereâs nothing he can do to fix this. He canât just stop being Spider-Man, no matter how hard heâs considering it at this moment.
He doesnât know what yo do. Heâs so hurt. Heâs soâŚfuckingâŚangry.
âGet out.â He says, looking at the ground.
You jerk your head up at him. Wiping your eyes, you ask him, âWhat?â
Hobie angrily puts his mask back on. âGet the fuck out,â he repeats, louder this time. You donât move. You didnât want it to end like this. Was it really going to end like this? NoâŚ
âBa-Hobie,â Slip of the tongue. But it was too late, he heard it and it broke him even more.
âI donât want you here when I get back.â He turns away from you and stalks towards the window. Without looking back once, he lifts it open and hops back out into the night.
You slap your hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut. This feeling in your chest, you wanted to lie down and scream at the top of your lungs. You were hoping he understood, that you could reason with him, but now you were left a lonely shell of your former self. You would hate yourself for breaking his heart the way you did. As you gather your things and leave the apartment, you start to wonder, was this even worth it?
On the trek home, you decided; yes. It hurt, but nothing would compare to the pain of him not being there at the hospital when you told him you needed him there. All the moments that you needed the man you loved and he was no where to be found, you found joy in knowing that you would never experience that again.
You werenât angry with Hobie anymore. You knew why things were the way they were now. But, thatâs not a love life that you wanted. That was the most difficult thing you had to do, but you had to do it. You werenât going to be a superheroâs girlfriend. You just werenât. You hoped he understood one day.
And he will. But for now, Hobie watches you leave the building with a hole in his heart and hatred in his mind. For now, you just donât want to make it work with him. Hobie knows the two of you are meant to be, he just wishes you would understand that-
No. He wishes you would accept him. You donât . And that destroys him.
For now, you simply donât love him enough to accept him for what he is. A huge part of him was scared of this, and would you look at that, it came true.
He was so confused. So hurt. How could you. How could you?âŚ
ending a/n: Hi! How was it? I hope I wrote it well. I really wanted to make sure it was clear that they both are valid in their feelings about the whole thing. It made sense that it would all blow up and not end well and I think itâs very easy for someone who is dealing with a lot of emotions to not really think rationally or listen to the other person.
If you read this whole thing and was like âwhat is wrong with herâ let me try to explain my thought process. She doesnât want to be with a superhero. She wants to be in a relationship with someone who can be there for her. Hobie was never there, if he was it was few and far between. And thatâs bcs of his obligation to the world and multiverse. Thatâs no oneâs fault. She gets that. So sheâs going to find someone who CAN give her the time she needs. Someone who doesnât have a duty to the world. Someone who can focus on her as much as she does for them.
Of course, Hobie isnât going to understand that. All he hears is that she doesnât want to be with him. So, heâs thinking irrationally, not really listening to what sheâs saying. Taking things the wrong way bcs heâs heart broken.
I like where I ended it, but I am very open to a pt 2 in the future where theyâve gotten over it (or maybe not đ) but theyâre not going to get back together. Itâll be like closure unless I decide to never let Hobie heal from it. Hmmmm. Idk idk idk!
Anyway, I hope you guys understood my thinking and enjoyed this version of this trope. I donât think Iâve seen it done before, it would be nice to start a trend of this. I would love to see how other people interpret this. Please feel free to discuss this particular topic more with me if you would like! I donât bite! Yâall have a good oneđŠľđŠľ
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discuss on âwhoâs hobieâs copâ led to âwhat if hobieâs cop was Jeff morales and he leaked information to Hobie about the inner workings of the corrupt police force and got caught right before a massive protest he was going to help lead with spider punk which would also be an announcement of his quitting the forceâ which led to this. thanks @jacuzziwaters @they-callme-ami
-
Oh.
It finally clicks.
Hobieâs not sure how he didnât notice before. Maybe it was the rageâthe embarrassment of being played a fool overloading his usually rational thought process. Maybe it was the surrounding chaosâthe screams of agony as symbiotic teeth gored into flesh. The sounds of popping as gunshots rang off endlessly. The cracking of bottles and bones when met with a much stronger forceâoverwhelming his senses and leaving Hobie unable to see the man in front of him as anything else but a traitor.
Itâs only now as he stares into Jeff Morales unnaturally sunken eyes, white sclera eating away at his warm brown irises that Hobie realizes he wasnât lied to after all. As the foam trickles out the corner of his friendâs cracked lips, dripping off the sides of the manâs violently twitching jaw. Hobieâs stomach twists in disgust as the black tendrils spread across Jeffâs brown skin like ink in water.
Hobieâs finger is on the trigger of the gun he snatched from the symbioâJeffâs waistband. He doesnât realize heâs trembling until the manâs hand grabs his wrist, stilling it. Hobieâs about to snatch it away but Jeffâs milky eyes bore into his through his mask and keep him frozen in place.
The older manâs mouth twitches again, then opens, and the younger oneâs blood runs cold as a haphazard desperate message trickles past his friendâs bloody lips.
thoughts about Hobie Brown x black reader whoâs a model trainee
a/n: this is fluff. reader is described as feminine with kinky hair. this song was the inspo, itâs stuck in my head LOL.
⥠Seeing you was a breath of fresh air. You were the only other black model in the line up, a symbol of progress but also an opportunity for connection.
âThought this place already had their âlookâ.â Heâd joke, introducing himself to you with a toothy smile. His own distinctive style complemented yours.
You werenât here by mistake. He realized this watching you walk for the first time. Seeing you gracefully strut down to the taped line, confidently smirking into the camera. He shook his head in disbelief. You were in a league of your own and whatever magic you were working, he wanted more of it. Later heâd get your number.
⥠Heâd watch you backstage making shit up, adding more personality to your walk.
âHow was that? better than the last?â Youâd ask the brit. Heâd nod with a distant look in his eyes. Respectfully, he wasnât listening to a word you were saying.
⥠Behind the scenes heâd proudly be âdifficultâ. Heâs hovering over the shoulders of your stylist with pursed lips. These people were clueless.
Likewise, you were trying to keep it professional but you couldnât keep your lip from curling in disapproval. Every careless comb through your coils caused your face to tighten into a grimace.
You share a knowing look with Hobie who disappeared from the reflection of the wide mirror to later return with his own materials. Heâd gladly fix you up, being generous with his products, tenderly handling your scalp. You learned to trust him far more than the industry after that.Â
The same rule applied to makeup. Whatâs his is yours. Whatever issue left you looking a mess was made up for by Hobieâs everlasting kindness. Heâd routinely let you borrow his contour, powder, lip liners and everything in between as you figured things out.
âYou know whatâs mad?â Heâd start, a brush feathering over your lids while he did your eyeshadow.Â
Youâd already be stiffing a bitter chuckle, preparing for another one of his complaints. He never hesitated to speak his mind.
âThey can give you two hundred pound earrings jusâ fine but nah, fentyâs too big of an investment. Bloody tossers.âÂ
Heâd handle you like the doll you are while applying a rich brown into your crease, something that actually made sense on your skin tone. When finished, his eyes would trace over your face, taking you all in. âYer stunninâ.âÂ
tags: no use of y/n, no physical description of reader, reader-insert, fluff, slice of life, suggestive, marijuana, tension + mutual pining , an almost kiss.
synopsis: you visit hobie during his smoke. his suggestion to share a breath flusters you both.
You were so stupidly anxious today.Â
The scowl you hauled with you today was not appreciated, yet it stuck as you grew more and more irritated with each passing hour. Frankly, you needed to chill out. You could admit that at least. You usually donât think to bother anyone, always opting to wallow in your room as usual. This time around though, your silent room was torturous. Silence was tolerable literally anywhere else... especially at Hobieâs.Â
You thought about it. Hobie didnât seem to ask anything of you while you were over. Quiet or not, he got along with any personality. Still, you rocked nervously, rechecking your phone as you waited for his reply. You had asked about some park but...Â
Hobie: letâs just do my place. ppl are nosey.
He sends you an address. It's not far.
This one was definitely his. No one else would willingly make their home look like it was hijacked by a bunch of drunk teenagers. Even his boat was punk.Â
You donât need to knock. Heâs at the door the moment he feels your weight on deck causing the narrowboat to sway. âFound my cocoon?â He greets you with a smile, crinkles eyes tinted pink.Â
His earthy stench hits you when he opens the other slim, wooden door. You purse your lips knowingly, returning his greeting with your habitual handshake, âHey Hobie.âÂ
âWatch your step.âÂ
He follows behind as you enter what looks like a long corridor. Living room, kitchenette, bedroom and bathroom all merged together. A cool, salty breeze flows from several open windows making the thin smoke wisp around. You lean on one of the kitchen counters, Hobie slipping by you and waiting for you to slip your sneakers off.
âIt's really cozy in here.â You comment in pleasant surprise, looking around for where to place your shoes. He appreciates it although he won't say.Â
âBehind you, mate.â He pulls a drawer out of the small staircase you descended to get in, placing your shoes inside. He built the compartment himself figuring everything in a narrowboat needs a purpose. You hum, impressed.
âWhatâre you lookinâ at? Go get comfortable.â He teases.
You're quick to plop down on the couch, observing the rest of the boathouse. You admire the rich wood interior behind the walls full of colorful posters. Records leaning against a thick, boxy TV seemingly unused. He starts his tour unprompted, narrating from the counter.Â
âGot a lilâ bookshelf.â He gestures with his chin at a two-shelf case, a zine collection stuffed underneath magazines and other jumbled books. You nod, appreciating how homey the space is. He makes living on a boat actually look nice.Â
âStove. Toilet. Telly for the mandem.â He watches you grab the remote before gently taking it from you and stuffing it into some other compartment.Â
âNot for you though. Anythin' else is more interesting than that shite.â He passes you a sketchbook instead, dedicated to his visitors. Its bright red cover full of doodles made in paint, colorful stickers plastered over the graffiti. He hands you a thick green marker along with it. âRighâ there you go. see that? No adsâ
âWhatâs wrong with TV?â you challenged, snickering in disbelief.
He rolls his eyes, ââS fine if ya donât mind beinâ a cog.â He sits back down next to you, cushion sunk under his weight. Thin paper crinkles against his fingers as he rolls a joint, continuing his previous activity. You pull your feet up onto his couch and your knees towards your chest. Your doodles are heavy-handed, subtly chewing the inside of your cheek while you scribble. You thought you were holding your composure well, but it wasnât lost on him.Â
He flicks his lighter open, click followed by a gentle hiss and crackle.Â
âAre you anxious about somethinâ specific?â he asks softly, one brow inched upward. He takes a long hit, exhaling streams through his nostrils.
You reply way too quickly, âNo? I mean, I just feel itchy, I guess. Itâs always something.â
He blinks at your short babble, âYer brains jusâ buzzinâ off. I know that feelinâ.â
Your nerves did concern him, making him uneasy despite his high. He fought to keep his expression neutral but his eyes narrow nonetheless.Â
You speak up again, unsure of yourself. â...But itâs not just that. I feel shit out of luck,â you let out a bitter huff of laughter, âThe universe is targeting me Hobie. I just canât prove it yet.â
He chuckles deeply. You assume itâs just his high but hell, he knows a thing or two about the universe. You were half-right. âMaybe. But are ya sure itâs not somethinâ else goinâ on?â
Your eyes slowly separate from his, âNot that I know of.â You mumble back cryptically.Â
Despite your words, a few familiar scenes flash through your head. The same moments youâve been ruminating over for months now. His eyes are trained on your sketchbook but momentarily flicker to your face, trying to decode its constrained expression. Your wrist flicks with each new doodle. He canât tell if itâs calming you down or making things worse.
âIâm not sayinâ yer crazy or nothinâ. Jusâ that sometimes we're so focused on lookin' for the big answers that we miss the small ones righâ under our noses." He chuckles, exhaling another cloud of smoke, âNo pun intended.âÂ
You rub your neck and exhale sharply through your nostrils, tone growing even more defensive. âIâll think about it.âÂ
âNah, nah. Not what I meant. The opposite, actually. Like, shut your brain off.â He throws his free hand over the couch, playing with your sleeve.Â
He gives you a sidelong glance before puffing out four skillful halos that lightly tap and disperse against your cheek. A short laugh slips from your lips. You turn towards the fog, his mischievous grin revealing his canines.Â
Youâre more touched than bothered. âWhat was that for?âÂ
âYa look like you need some. True or false?âÂ
âTrue?â You replyÂ
He tilts his head, his thumb tracing light circles into your arm, âItâs a question?â
âI just don't know how-"
âTo smoke? Yeah, that parts obvious.â He murmurs, mostly to himself. His cheeks hollow, then puff. Taking another long drag before blowing out more neatly stacked rings. How was he even doing it? You wave your hand, playfully fanning them away, stress leaving you bit by bit as his teasing forces you back into the present.
ââM not sure how you do this shit sober. But I can still help.â He says, eyes gleaming with that strange, drug-fueled mirth. His fingers drag down your arm as he commits the moment to memory. He grabs hold of the sketchbook, eyes flickering back up to yours with a lazy half-lidded stare. He tosses the red book back onto one of his speakers. âWanna speed this up?â
Your mind wonders with different possibilities, âSpeed what up?â
âYour high. You gotta scoot closer if you wanna feel anythinâ. I donât feel like closinâ all the windows.â He smiles.Â
Neither did he want to either. He was going to milk this moment out as long as you let him. Did he always look at you this way or were you tripping...?
âThatâs fair.â You scoot in, masking your sudden wave of nervousness behind a toothy smile. Without warning he reaches and hooks his hand under your ankles, hitching you forward until your feet rest on the cushion just beside his hip. You suddenly become aware of your exact spot in space, tucked in close enough to smell his musky cologne.Â
âJusâ face me âkay? Inhale.â Itâs his only instruction before he leans in. The sentence you were forming dying halfway, replaced by his offer to shotgun.Â
Your heart hammers against your ribs, half of the smoke slipping from the both of you before it forms a small tunnel. You pull back slowly, but he lingers.
He playfully nudges you,âYa fuckinâ lost half of it.â
You blink rapidly, chuckling out in a high pitch. God your ears were on fire. âMy bad.âÂ
âYouâre fine.â He replies, his hand wandering to the nape of your neck. âTry opening a bit wider this time.â
Your stomach flips. Itâs genuinely taking everything in you to not spontaneously combust. Your own sweaty palms grip your knees in anticipation, heat radiating off you in waves.
His head tilted to the right. Smoke hung at the top of his mouth before he leaned in again. His soft lips graze against yours, tightening the seal and blowing a warm, bitter fog into your lungs. Your head goes light, feeling his tongue press against the tip of yours. He pulls back a few seconds later, abruptly ending the pass-off. Silence hangs in the air, the boat swaying with the natural current of the canal.
âFeelinâ it?â He asks, his breath caught.Â
You nod still silently questioning if the rush was drug-induced or not, âSomething like that.â
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tags: No use of y/n, no physical description of reader, mild language, sleepy reader, slice of life, platonic, sweet hobie brown, comfort / tough-love (?), hobie wants you to succeed
ę° you need encouragement to finish your paper before dawn ęą
A low rumble stirs you awake. Warm, large hands wrap around your plush torso before you can fully open your eyes. Hobie gazes down at you, his hand moving up to wipe the drool from your face.
ââS two. Like you said.â he speaks again. You realize the rumble is his voice, trying to keep quiet.
Your alarm clatters as you sit up by your elbows. âFuck,â you breathe out, staring into the void that is your room at 2am. Despite how delirious you are, youâre happy to see the punk leaning over you, courteous to wake you up on time like you asked.Â
âYeah, Iâd figure youâd click snooze.â He adds, shutting off your phoneâs ringer for you. Youâve never tried so hard in school before, you guessed this is what it must feel like, carving out a few hours of your night to write a paper you coul finally forget about. He lets out an amused huff as you stare into the wall. You wondered how much your grade would really drop if you just didnât turn it in. Nah, he wouldnât let you. His large fingers cup and squeeze your face, rousing you again with a soft shake, âOi.âÂ
You clear your throat, turning to the side to sneak back to sleep. If you looked tired enough maybe heâd leave you alone? You hear his faint voice rumble faintly, âMate, Iâm serious.âÂ
He cups the small of your back, another siding underneath your shoulders before he pulls you upright and shakes you again. âI mean it.â he murmurs, gently scooping your eye boogers out with his short, painted nails. âWhat part are you on now, hm? Your paper.â
Your eyebrows knit together at the thought. Itâs taken you hours to push about a meaningful sentence or two, just for you to quickly erase it, refusing to think about it again. âIâm nowhere hobes. I canât write for shit I told you that already.â You reply.
He tsks in response, thumbs pushing your eyelids down before blowing at the rest of the built-up crystals. âCome out of it. You write fine, get up.â He lifts a leg off your knees, giving you a choice. You shift to the side of your bed, fixing your hair and staring into your carpet. âI just want to improve,â you add quietly.
He lets out a soft sigh, âYou can improve. Youâve seen me do it righâ? I don't âave a lick of school, just a library card.âÂ
The room gets quiet, a bit solemn too. The both of you seem quite deep in thought as you reflect over your life circumstances. Is that why he tried so hard? He just wanted to see you succeed where he never had a chance to? A trainâs echoing blare reminds the two of them where they are.Â
Your mattress shifts as you finally stand up, tiredly wobbling your way over to your desk. While the Brit was happy to hold you accountable, he didnât think you really needed it. Heâd only wished youâd believe in yourself more. He stands up too, only to gather your materials. A couple of pens, pieces of scrap paper.. mini tissue pack. âLook, youâve got solid work âere. Anâ I genuinely donât care if it takes you âtil six to realize that.â He smirks.
You chuckle shyly, turning on the lamp beside you and picking up your pen.