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vhstown · 8 months

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hobie green

— hobie brown x gn!reader

summary: You never knew punks could be into gardening — or into you.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: mentions of underage drinking, brief mentions of politics, fluff, not very edited

a/n: based on a silly headcanon me and @qiuweyballs came up with. 99% identical to my tag team fic arrest me i love friends to lovers (just lovers in my drafts prommie)

There were a lot of things you didn't expect about your friend Hobie. The first thing was that he was Spider-Man (but you kind of figured after all those patch-up sessions at your place.) Second, was that he lived on a boat — not the most outrageous thing; somewhat non-conformist, somewhat Hobie-like — he wasn't the only boater in Camden. The third thing you didn't expect, however, was that this “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist and whatever other label he'd projected, would have so many… plants.

“You're lookin’ at me funny.”

The “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist and now plant dad in question sat with his feet propped up against one of the many windows of his canal boat, an unassuming eyebrow raised.

“…Nah, don't worry about it,” you muttered, shifting awkwardly on your feet as you tried not to knock anything over, taking in the overflowing greenery of the room.

There was pretty much every plant you could think of: regular household plants under the windows, a tomato stalk in the corner, small cacti in odd places — he even had a pretty well-maintained chilli plant, bathing more gloriously in a patch of sunlight than you ever could. The boat felt more like a disorganised plant shop than a home, if it weren't for the rowdy radical posters and punk collages peeking in-between. Maybe these plants were as much like your friend as all the anarchy-themed decoration he’d made himself — or Hobie had just stolen a boat with a lot of plants in it.

Squeezing past some more foliage, you sat beside Hobie on his tiny canvas couch. He gave you a glance of acknowledgement before reaching for his guitar, setting it between his kicked-up legs as you tried to get more comfortable. The red coating of the instrument had almost entirely peeled off, instead covered by loud stickers and scratchy writing. You weren’t sure what any of it really meant, or why his guitar wasn’t tuned in the first place (it never seemed to be when you two were hanging out) — but right now, you were wondering why he was being so quiet. The silence was nice, though, so you didn’t let yourself think of anything else to ask.

Swaying gently from time to time, the canal boat hummed with the splashing of water and faint strumming of Hobie’s guitar. These quiet, almost tranquil moments were unexpected for someone as spontaneous as Hobie, but they were also welcome, you decided. The world was falling apart, but it was nice to be away from that in the middle of a canal with your best friend — even with his many plants.

You felt a tug behind your back, realising Hobie was trying to get something. Mumbling a quick sorry, you moved to let him get the thing you were sitting on. It was a pink jumper — much too small to be his. After carefully draping it over the backrest, he cracked a smile at you.

“Gotta give that to Gwendy,” he told himself, nails tapping on the back of the guitar neck.

Gwendy (Gwen? Wendy?) was a friend he'd made recently, and you’d never seen a trace of her despite the fact that they supposedly lived together. That was until now; the sweater looked nice, soft, high-quality — nothing like anything you could afford here. Maybe she was well-off. How old even was she? Did Gwendy like plants too?

“Yeah? Is she your roommate?” you inquired, leaning forward to look at him. “Boatmate?”

“You sayin’ this isn’t a room?” Hobie set his guitar against the wall as if the conversation was suddenly more important.

“More like a garden.”

He tilted his head to the side at your response, finally meeting your eyes with his own glinting with amusement.

“You want a tour, then? Private — totally elitist.”

“Have you got more plants or something?”

He crossed his arms at you. “You’re actin’ like it’s a problem.”

It wasn’t a problem, per se, you just couldn’t imagine living with so many plants. Maybe it was his superhuman reflexes that kept him from slipping and smashing his face into a plant pot; you almost tripped on some dead roots earlier.

“Nah nah, it’s not. You got uh… free oxygen.” Clearly there wasn’t enough oxygen going to your brain at that moment if that's the only thing you could come up with. You held back a sigh; you’d never be as fast as Hobie. He just snickered.

“They privatise oxygen too?” Not his most clever quip, you thought.

“Maybe. Is that why you have so many plants? To breathe better?”

Hobie gave you a frown. If you didn't know better, you might've felt bad. “You don’t want the tour?”

“Go on,” you beckoned, dryly.

“Get up, then.”

“Can’t be bothered.” The sofa creaked as you leaned back on it, folding your arms as if you were going to sleep. If it was still quiet, maybe you could’ve actually fallen asleep to the gentle rocking motion of the boat.

“You come over to have a snooze?” he teased, leaning over until you pushed him away — one of his usual ways of driving you mad; you wouldn’t have it. “Want to be my boatmate too?”

“Wouldn’t mind.” The words came out by themselves, but you figured they might be true.

“Gwendy’s only here sometimes — you could.”

“I’d miss my place,” you objected, feeling slightly uncertain at the idea now. It was probably better if that weird feeling in your chest whenever you saw Hobie wasn’t a constant in your life anyway.

“Your place is only good for the pub down the road.” Maybe so — you two certainly weren’t good for the pub, though. All you did was shrug in response.

Hobie tapped his foot for a moment, appearing to muse about something. Before you knew it, he slid his hand between your back and the sofa and you were suddenly your feet in one swift motion.

“Hey—” The floor creaked as he started walking you out to the front of the boat, arm slung around your shoulder. You sighed reluctantly at him, but his grin just widened.

“You starting the tour from here?” Despite the cool wind now rushing past the two of you, your tone came out less energetic than you’d like.

Your heart dropped for a moment as Hobie let go of you, suddenly jumping up backwards onto the barriers. He crouched easily on the edge as you let out a small breath of relief. Even if there was no chance he’d fall into the water, you’d never get used to that.

“Nah, no tour,” he replied, hands on his knees as he looked down at you with squinted eyes. “I ain't no elitist.”

The lingering fear in your chest from Hobie’s stunt died down, and the way the late-day sun was hitting his face replaced it with that weird swishing sensation you could never get used to.

Honey-gold sunlight reflected off of his skin, his face shimmering where there were angles and glowing softly where there weren’t. His eyes glistened like copper, your own face in the reflection like the rich people on coins as you searched for any trace of amusement in his expression. You couldn’t find anything; he was just looking at you. The swishing became more like a crashing tide, your chest growing tighter. Maybe you should’ve feigned interest in the plants when you could.

“…Okay,” you managed, after realising that you’d been staring for a while. Tearing your eyes away from the tall, glistening silhouette of your best friend who was sitting like the figurehead of a sailing ship, you looked back into the boat house before another little plant caught your attention. It was the only plant sitting outside — a young rosemary with a paper tag attached to it.

You squatted down to look at it, figuring that Hobie had nothing to say right now. Taking the tag in your hands, you read “Helen”, written in lovely cursive writing.

“Helen… you name your plants?” It was too nice to be Hobie’s handwriting, but you decided to joke a bit anyway.

“Yeah,” he answered, deadpan, and you tried not to let him catch your eyeroll. “Some lady comin’ through Regent’s gave it to me.”

“People give you plants?”

“All the time, actually.”

Huh… It made enough sense. You did see your fair share of plants in other boats; maybe people wanted to give Spider-Man a thanks or something, or just get rid of some plants they get lying around. You recalled aloe plant you saw earlier, having almost slipped on the pile of dead roots beside it — interesting to gift a rotting plant. It looked like it needed a lot of care; you wondered who could get an aloe to that point.

Deciding to sit by the much nicer rosemary plant with your back against the doors, you caught the faint aroma of the leaves. If Hobie already had vegetable plants, he’d probably make good use out of this one once it got a little more mature. Maybe as a seasoning, or make it into an oil somehow, or just leave it as decoration. There was a lot you could do, you realised, and having plants was starting to look just a little cool. Everything Hobie did was cool — as much as you didn’t like to admit it.

“…What’s up with you?”

Hobie’s voice caught you off guard. You looked back to see that the figurehead was now sitting opposite you on the floor of the little outdoor cockpit, hands loose between his bent knees.

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t just tell like that, could he? Nothing was different… until recently. Until you realised you had that feeling.

“You're quiet,” he stated, though his tone wasn't all that serious. “Y’don’t come over, or come see old Hobie.”

“Old Hobie,” you repeated, half of a laugh coming out of your mouth. “Like Old Tom?”

Tom was the bar owner of the pub you frequented — if your antics could be considered “frequenting”. The two of you were probably the reason why he was “Old” Tom.

“Need to see that geezer,” Hobie mused, leaning back against the wood with a creak.

“A lot of people you’ve gotta see.” It came out far too sardonic, and you held your breath like you’d just placed a bet.

Hobie stuck his bottom lip out, lip ring catching the light. “Like you.”

The sun had faded by now, but that feeling hadn’t, you realised.

“I'm right here,” you replied.

“I brought you.”

“It’s not like I knew which out of the hundred boats was yours. Half of them’ve got plants anyway.”

“You do now.”

“I guess.”

Stretching a little, you shifted to sit more like Hobie, leg brushing against the rosemary leaves for a moment. Hobie cracked his knuckles in the meantime, and you realised you hadn’t really seen him in a while. It wasn’t all your fault, he just kept disappearing. Maybe you should stop waiting for him to come to you all the time.

“I’ll see you again before you have to go to the care home, Old Hobie,” you muttered, getting a snicker out of him.

“They’ll never get me in one of those.”

“You don’t wanna be an elder punk?”

“Not in them institutions — I’ll bail you out as well.”

You never imagined the thought of growing old with someone would go in this direction. Well, it was Hobie.

“I appreciate it, Old Hobie” you replied, though not too enthusiastically. Hobie smirked.

“Come pub with me, then. Don’t need ID if I’m retired.” Despite your best efforts, you smiled just a little.

It wasn’t like you gave Tom ID anyway, but you found it amusing regardless. Maybe it was the idea of being like those old people at the pub: loud, obnoxious, opiniated… Nothing much would change, actually.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“How come?” Hobie leaning forward on his knees, as if to taunt you. “Scared you’ll get pissed like last time?”

“I did not get pissed!” you retorted, face aching with an incriminating smile. Your stomach churned with the memory of that night — or lack thereof.

“Had to actually peel you off me. My Spider Powers didn’t even help.”

You groaned and laughed at the same time, trying to ease the embarrassment by putting a hand on the plant pot; it was cool, and you felt a chip near the rim.

“Don’t lie.”

“Never did.”

“Fine, yeah.” It sounded like a bit like an admission to a crime; maybe getting that drunk was a crime. “Don’t wanna get pissed like last time.”

Hobie’s smirk faded a bit, before he let out a sigh — those were rare for him, you thought.

“Seriously though, we gotta go again sometime — it’s on you, yeah?”

You frowned at that, but it got no reaction out of him. “You’re the worst.”

“Like I don’t know.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” You weren’t exactly sure what you meant by that, but Hobie didn’t seem to question it.

Maybe he did actually know what was going on with you, even if you never tried to make a move. It was possible — the observant prick. A prick with a green thumb and looked like he’d been kissed by the sun itself and that you couldn't get out of your head.

If he did know, you wished he'd say something, at least.

Your hand lingered on the pot, and the paper tag found its way into your hands again.

“Helen,” you stated, glimpsing at the nice handwriting.

“You gonna call it that now?”

“Got a better name?”

“Yours,” he replied, too easily.

You weren’t sure what a rosemary plant was like, but it sounded enough like a compliment. Did rosemary have a meaning? Hobie wasn’t thinking that deep, of course. Not about things like labels, no matter how many you had for him.

“Am I like a rosemary?”

“Dunno. If you were a plant, I’d keep you though.”

That made you laugh, albeit awkwardly.

“…What are you on about?” you muttered, shaking your head. “Random… You keep like, any plant anyway.”

“I keep the ones I like.”

“Your boat's a greenhouse. Maybe you just like every plant.”

“Maybe I just like you.”

A jolt of pain ran in your mouth, eyes almost squeezing shut — you’d bit your tongue. Hobie was silent, so you couldn’t be.

“Maybe,” you murmured through gritted teeth.

“Maybe,” he repeated, with his usual unbothered amusement that drove your feelings back into hiding. Hobie Brown — “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist — your best friend.

You’d get over it, you told yourself — not for the first time.

Now with a weird attachment to the plant, you tried to seem interested in the tag again — you could say it’d… grown on you. Would he make a joke like that? You wanted to crumple the tag. It looked too nice to do that, so you turned it around to look at the back instead.

“ROSEMARY — remembrance, friendship, love.”

A dry laugh escaped your mouth; even this plant was mocking you. Maybe it felt sorry.

“What’s got you laughin’?” You almost forgot about Hobie; that would’ve been nice. No, you’d get over it soon.

“You better name this plant after me,” you joked, more so to yourself, and in a very much self-pitying way even though he wouldn’t get it. As Hobie’s gaze trailed to the tag, that feeling in your chest threatened you, so you ripped it off before he could see it.

Thwip! Mistake. In a second, the tag was in Hobie’s hand. His face was unreadable as he looked at the back, no longer gold with sunlight.

“Yeah,” he mused, folding over the edge with his nail as his eyes met yours. You tried not to bite your tongue again.

“Yeah…?” You couldn't even give him an awkward laugh.

He held up the tag to show you the folded bit. There was a single word, the rest cut off — “love.”

“Your name fits pretty well.”

Your mouth was so dry, not even a cactus could live in it.

“I’d rather you not be a plant, by the way,” he continued, despite how lost you must’ve looked. “Be yourself, at the pub, tomorrow — opening time. Dress how you want.”

No words were coming out of your mouth. Hobie didn’t need you to say anything, though.

“It’s on me.”

You couldn't leave him hanging. You also couldn’t shy away forever, not when it was right in front of your face. Not when he'd just asked you out.

”…Like a date?”

“Better than a date.”

A smile formed on your lips. After that feeling had been buried under the soil for so long, it was starting to blossom, like the little blue flowers on a rosemary bush.

“Okay,” you replied, winning something that was neither a grin nor a smirk from him — a smile, warm like sunlight, and just like yours.

“Okay.” Hobie chucked the tag back to you, the edge still folded over as you took it in your hand.

“ROSEMARY — remembrance, friendship,”

“love.”

“I’ll let you keep it, if you want.”

Your smile turned into a grin as you brushed your fingertips over the leaves. “I’ll think about it.”

Spice, oil, decoration — this plant had one more use: getting you a date.

Maybe you liked plants more than you originally thought.

🕸️🔭🎸

thank you for reading !! honestly the friends to lovers thing was so not planned i just wrote this for fun (intended to be a drabble / imagine but it turned into this) less friends more lovers in the future hopefully?

thank you again to my friend chewy ^^ tom is actually his chr + the aloe plant detail

reblogs & feedback are super appreciated <3 catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!

#hobie brown x you #spider punk #hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x reader #atsv hobie #hobie brown headcanons #atsv fanfiction #across the spiderverse #atsv #atsv x you #vee at 3am #vhstown

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littlestardude · 11 months

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⏤͟͟͞͞☆Marjorine taking care of a high reader and Kenny! || Oneshot || Kenjorine x Reader (Kenny x Marjorine x Reader)

✰ - SFW - ✰

Plot: Marjie taking care of a toasted Reader and a toasted Kenny :3

Note: RAHHHHHHH I LOBE KENJORINEEEEEE‼️‼️‼️ i am SO normal about them :33 and POV from marjie, and sorry it's short wahhhg 😔😔 also here's the ask it came from!

TW:Drugs (weed)

Gender: Gen Neutral

Marhirie... Can u cowme over to my hosue pelalse bb :((( we miss youue , kennys heree.

Sent at 11:38 PM

Marjorine's screen lit up at the message, it was late and there was only two people who would think to text her at 11:38 PM. Her partners.

She sighed lightly and laughed at the misspelled message, she could tell that they were high.

I'll be there in 10 :3

Read

She packed her bag with some clothes because she was sure she'd end up staying, some water and snacks, and some medicine. And maybe some face masks too... Yes, face masks.

Right before she picked up her phone to put it in her pocket it buzzed and lit up again.

Can you brignsn mcdonals too pleasese ty ily I'll pay u back I prommy :((

Read

She rolled her eyes playfully and picked up her phone and wallet.

Knock knock

Marjorine shifted uncomfortably while holding the bags of hot food. She waited for a little bit and started daydreaming but snapped back to reality at the door opening

"Marjieeeeee, hi babyyyyy" Y/N said in a sing-songy voice and took the bags of food out of her hands and see them on the dining table.

They wrapped their arms around her neck and gave her plenty of kisses, they reeked of weed.

"Hey sweetie, do you feel okay? " Marj asked a bit worryingly.

"I'm fuckin.. Great, I'm sooo happy you're here honey... " They kissed her on her lips sloppily, tasting of weed.

Kenny stumbled out of the room, almost falling over and grabbed onto the wall, he looked over at the two of them and his eyes lit up.

"Marjiee!! Babyyyy, hiiii, " he stumbled on over and wrapped his own arms over her neck and gave her plenty of kisses as well.

"You look so prettyyyy honeyyyy... I love youu, " he hugged her tightly, and then hugged Y/N as well.

Marjorine hugged them back and slowly started walking them to the dinner table to sit down.

"Come on now, let's just sit down and eat something, okay? " she said as she started taking the food out of the bags.

Kenny and Y/N started giggling slightly and nodded their heads lazily. They both laid their heads down on the table and held hands.

Marjorine took the water out of her bag so they could get hydrated and had something to drink with their meal.

They thanked her and took their food and ate like the last time they ate was two Tuesdays ago. Marjorine was only halfway done when the other two we're done.

She'd say she was surprised but really wasn't considering the two of her partners could really throw down when they were high.

They waited while Marjorine finished her food, and then swiftly after, Kenny dragged the other two to Y/N's bedroom.

You would think his eagerness stemmed from horniness, but he really just wanted to lay down and cuddle with his partners.

They laid down comfortably with Marjorine in the middle, and the other two thanked her profusely for the McDonalds.

"We love you so much... You're the best thing that could ever happen to anyone, Marjie... " Y/N said, slightly slurring their words and slowly coming down from their high.

"Yeah, you're so amazing Mar, we love you more than words could ever describe, " Kenny added on, kissing Marjorine on the cheek.

Marjorine was practically a melted puddle in the middle of the two, she nervously rubbed her knuckles together, "Oh jeez guys... Well, I love you two too... "

Kenny and Y/N followed with more kisses on her cheeks.

"Oh, I brought face masks by the way! " Marjorine said eagerly.

Kenny and Y/N grinned at her excitement, she really was an amazing girl.

#south park fanfiction #kenny mccormick #marjorine stotch #sp kenny #sp marjorine #kenny mccormick x reader #marjorine x reader #kenny x marjorine #kenjorine #kenjorine x reader #kenny x marjorine x reader #x reader #✰Star's oneshots

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angelpuns · 4 months

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Asking this because it's important; hello, how are you? It's been a time i hope you're doing great today.

Are you drinking enough water? Are you resting well? 👉👈✨🩷

I am having an okay time :) I got to play my favorite game and I am getting steady progress done on some of my wips :)

I don't drink water but I prommy i am hydrated :3

I am patting your head getle, all is well and I am in a p good mood today <3333

#asks

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sherifftillman · 7 months

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how would older!tom grant react to you just randomly biting his big, beefy bicep?? like maybe you’re a bit sloshed and the urges™ are just too strong to resist, so you just…

like you don’t sink your teeth in enough to truly hurt or to draw blood, just enough to satisfy the urges™.

what’s his reaction???

ik, in canon, ruth bites into like his pec and he’s just like “oh??? … erm, ok.” and accepts his fate, but like… what’s older!tom grant’s reaction??? what’s his response to you randomly sinking your teeth into his beefy bicep??

(prior to seeing jq in that clip from hoard, i would’ve never considered myself a bitey kind of person… but here we are)

oooooh i have the PERFECT mental scenario in my head for this!!

okay so let's say it's been a friend's birthday, or a friend is leaving town, or it's a big work event. for whatever reason, you two went out for dinner with a big group of people, and even though you didn't drink loads, the couple of drinks you did have definitely hit you quicker than they would have when you were in your 20s. not enough to go off the rails or anything, but you're both definitely a little buzzed from it. (this is important, i prommy)

anyway, when you get back home, you guys slip into your usual night-time routine. tom gets in the shower first while you're doing your thing (maybe you're the sort of person who likes to get dolled up so you're taking all your accessories off, maybe you're more chilled w your appearance but you go around making sure the flat isn't a total bombsite once you wake up with an inevitable headache, whatever it is you do), and while you're in the shower, tom does his thing of getting into his singlet + undies (specifically YOUR fave visual there cass heheh), making sure you've got a fresh bottle of water beside your bed for the night, and settling in himself to scroll through reddit or whatever

you go and join him in bed and obv you wanna cuddle up to him bc a) he's tom and b) maybe you get a little extra affection-needy when you've been drinking. however, i think tom's the kind of drunk who literally cannot multi-task to save his life. he'll do whatever you want, but it has to be a "right, we're doing this now, let's go" kinda thing or else he'll just space out. so you're sat in the bed waiting for him to realise and at least put his arm around you while he reads, but he's too engrossed. (again, not ignoring you deliberately, he's just a lil dopey, bless him) you poke him in the arm, and he makes a weird sound but still remains scrolling through his phone. and so, with the last remnants of the night's alcohol taking your inhibitions away, you lean down and just press your teeth into his bicep. not a full on chomp, nothing painful, just enough so that he definitely feels teeth digging into him.

so he looks over with a Classic Tommy G Look™ like:

and you just look up at him, mouth still on his arm, and he just starts laughing, "what are you doing there, you wazzock?"

(wazzock is a term used in the general midlands dialect as an alternative word for like. idiot, silly goose, etc. there's a specific dialect where tom's canonically from, though, if you want to look up the sort of things he'd say, here's some good examples + i'm more than happy to try and help navigate what some words and phrases mean/are supposed to sound like lol)

anyway, you explain that he wasn't listening to you so Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures and he laughs it off with you and wraps his arm around you for the night

except as time goes on, you start realising that actually, even though you've only done it the once, you miss the feeling of biting tom's arm. it doesn't help when the weather gets warmer so he's wearing tank tops and short sleeves all the time and just... putting them on display, it's torture. so any time you're running on autopilot, or you just really need to do something impulsive, you'll go up to him and bite his arm. at first it still takes him by surprise a lot and makes him laugh, but eventually, he just sort of looks at you like, "y'alright?" and you'll just nod and he'll nod back and carry on doing whatever he's doing

besides, he totally gets you back for it when you guys are getting intimate. he doesn't bite anywhere that'll be super obvious, you're not teenagers leaving hickies on each others' necks, but he'll leave a nice little toothy bruise on your inner thigh, or just beneath your breast, or on your hip. just so that whenever you catch a glimpse of yourself in the shower or whatever, you're reminded that he can bite back, too 😌

#tom grant #make up 2019 #tom grant x reader #tom grant x you #tom grant imagine #older!tom grant #older!tom grant x reader #cassie 🌼

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