Punk! (Hobie x Reader)

20, 20, 24 Hours To Go. I Wanna Be Sedated.

SMUT AT THE *
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I can't tell you what I did while he was gone. I don't much remember. But I'm exactly where he left me.

Maybe I've sat here the whole time? Who cares?

"Hey, Hobie." I greet him when he comes home. It's dark outside.

He said nothing. He pulled me out of my seat and held me in his arms.

And my cheek pressed to his chest set something off. I felt like I was holding up a wall of bricks that hadn't been pasted together.

The only way to hold up this wall of bricks is if it leans on me. But I needed to let it topple over so that I could rebuild it with the paste and take the weight off my shoulders.

Hobie allowed the collapse of the wall.

For the night I cried.

He talked about his favorite bands. How he met the band. How he got into everything he's into. His "Spider-Man" story. (Which I felt was missing a part).

Nights passed like this. Some shorter, some longer.

Eventually, I began telling the same information about myself as he had just told me.

I've never felt so close to anyone.

We didn't talk about the future. Nor did we talk about what we'd seen in other universes. Knowing that we both knew was a little comforting. We don't need to talk about it.

But I thought I should say,

"I'm scared," and I snuggle closer to him in the darkness while the ceiling fan squeaks comfortably above us.

"Of Sex Pistols?" (He was still on the last topic).

I shook my head, "No," and I felt his heart start to race a bit at my ear. He understood immediately. I could tell he wasn't trying to think about it.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. I ruined the moment.

"Don' be, we should 'ave da chat," he rubbed my arm for comfort.

So we did. We talked about what happened, and we went around the harsh words without saying them, but he still cringed and I could imagine his expression even in the dark.

Once the conversation was over we were well into the night. And to no surprise, he makes things better.

Of course, nothing could bandaid the knowledge I have of the the "future" but he seems a little... hopeful.

"You make me feel better," and I'm tempted to say more, but I smile the thought away.

"Yeh?"

*

"Yes," I almost laugh. He sounds so sexy when he's tired.

I climb on top of him.

There's a sort of excitement in his hands when they slide up my thighs to my hips. As if he's been waiting for me. How respectful of him.

"Mmm, I've missed you," I lean forward to kiss him.

He sighs as if he were holding his breath.

  His hands slide up into my shirt. He loves to do that. I don't wear a bra to bed, I'm not insane. So, he was able to fondle my nipples fairly easily.

  I sigh into his lips and he kisses me again.

  "I need to see you," he bites my lip before standing up with me clung to him.