hobo heart x reader. Perhaps we value each other?

Chapter 2

It's been about three days since that terrifying encounter in the forest, and his words still echo relentlessly in my head. I want your heart. What could he have possibly meant by that, or was he just some twisted prankster pulling a sick joke in the middle of the night?

Either way, I'm back in the city today to pick up a few more shirts. I keep the hood of my grey sweatshirt pulled low over my face, desperate to hide the fresh, dark black eye swelling over my socket.

"Stupid parents," I mutter under my breath, my voice dripping with bitter resentment. "Maybe I should have just stayed in the woods and let that guy kill me."

A few passersby turn and stare at me as I talk to myself in the middle of the sidewalk, completely unbothered that I'm rambling about Creepypastas out loud. I tune them out, heading straight into a local clothing store to lose myself in the racks for a bit.

One hour later I step back out onto the bustling city street, a heavy plastic bag swinging from my hand. The clothes inside are cheap, but they're pretty. Still, trying to find long-sleeved shirts in the dead of a scorching summer is a nightmare. As I map out my walk home, a sudden commotion fractures the noise of the traffic. A scruffy, terrified dog comes barreling past me, its chest heaving as a group of young boys sprint close behind, shouting and aggressively throwing heavy rocks at the poor thing.

"HEY! KNOCK THAT OFF!" I roar, a white-hot anger instantly replacing my dull mood.

I drop my shopping bags onto the concrete and take off, my legs pumping as I chase them down. I catch up to the pack in a matter of seconds. Reaching out, I firmly grab the two boys by the back of their collars, yanking them to a hard, abrupt stop.

"Want to explain why the hell you're going after an innocent dog?" I demand, my voice dangerous.

One of the boys violently twists around, his face warping into an ugly sneer as he locks his eyes onto my face. "None of your business, black eye!" he barks. Before I can react, he hurls a sharp rock directly at my forehead, slips entirely out of his loose t-shirt, and takes off sprinting down the block.

The remaining boy squirms wildly in my iron grip, panic writing itself across his face. "Let me go!" he whines shrilly, his sneakers skidding against the pavement. "I didn't do anything wrong! Let go!"

The rock had grazed my skin, leaving a dull throb, but I don't let it break my focus. I forcefully push the runner's abandoned shirt into the crying boy's hands, staring him down with a gaze that turns ice-cold. "Don't you ever let me see you doing that again," I tell him flatly. I release his collar, and he immediately scrambles off, running as fast as his legs can carry him.

Once they are completely out of sight, I turn my attention to finding the dog. It takes me a tense minute of searching, but I finally spot the poor creature hiding down a dark, narrow alleyway, tucked tightly into a corner and shaking violently.

"Hey there," I say softly, stepping into the shadows and lowering myself to my knees. "It's okay. Those boys won't hurt you anymore. I promise."

I approach the animal slowly and carefully, keeping my hands visible and my voice a gentle, steady murmur. After a few agonizing moments of hesitation, the dog's ears perk up. It inches out of the corner, its tail beginning to wag in a hesitant, frantic rhythm as it nuzzles against my arm.

"Hey there, you scruffy doggo," I chuckle softly, running my hands over its fur. It's a small, brown, short-coated dog, definitely a scruffy little mutt. I pet it for a few minutes, letting its steady warmth calm the lingering adrenaline in my chest before I finally stand up and head back out toward the main street.

On my way out of the alleyway, my path is suddenly blocked by a man standing right in the center of the walkway. He's holding my dropped shopping bags out toward me. "I believe these belong to you," he says politely.

I look him over with a cautious, analytical gaze as I take the plastic handles from his grip. He looks like your every day, average guy—plain clothes, normal posture, nothing that really pops out or stands out about him at all.

"Thank you..." I murmur, keeping my response brief. I step past his shoulder and head on my way, hitting a few more shops to finish my errands before finally walking back toward the edge of town.

Desperate to delay going back to the house, I wander into the treeline of the woods. I find a large, moss-covered old tree stump and sit down, setting my bags at my feet as I close my eyes for a few quiet moments, letting the rustle of the leaves drown out my thoughts.

After a bit, a sharp, familiar bark punctures the silence. I snap my eyes open to see the exact same scruffy mutt from the city sitting right next to my knees, its tongue lolling out happily.

"Well, hi there, little buddy," I smile, completely surprised. "What's up? How did you follow me all the way out here?"

The dog doesn't just sit there. It suddenly starts spinning in frantic circles, barking excitedly before darting a few yards away into the brush. After it gets a small distance into the thick trees, it sits down, looks right back over its shoulder, and stares at me.

I let out a light chuckle, pushing myself up from the stump. "What? Do you want me to follow you?"

The dog lets out an approving bark, turns around, and trots deeper into the forest. Intrigued and completely forgetting about the time, I pick up my bags and follow the scruffy pup into the shadows.

Time Skip

The canopy above has turned a deep, bruising purple. The shadows are stretching long across the forest floor, and the air is growing thick and cold.

"Little pup, we have been walking for hours," I say, my voice tight with a sudden, creeping anxiety as I check the fading light. "It's getting really dark. I need to get home soon, or they might..."

The words trail off and die in my throat as we break through a dense thicket, approaching a massive, grotesquely twisted tree that dominates the clearing. Its roots writhe out of the earth like skeletal fingers, and the entire structure looks ancient, dark, and deeply wrong.

"H-hey, pup..." I whisper, my bare legs shaking slightly as I stand on the crest of a small hill, staring down at the ominous wood. "Where the hell are we?"

The dog doesn't answer. It lets out a single, sharp bark and darts straight toward the base of the twisted trunk, vanishing into the shadows of the roots.

I swallow the knot of fear in my throat, drawn toward the structure by a strange, magnetic pull. I walk down the hill, stepping into the dark hollow beneath the canopy. When I am about two feet away from the bark, I raise my hand, my fingers reaching out to touch the ancient wood.

But before I ever get the chance to make contact, a brutal, concussive force slams violently against the back of my head.

The impact detonates a blinding white flash behind my eyelids, my equilibrium instantly shattering. My knees buckle beneath me, the plastic shopping bags slipping from my fingers as my vision rapidly dissolves into pitch-black nothingness. As my body collapses onto the cold dirt, the very last thing I hear echoing through the dark is a rough, unyielding, and terrifyingly familiar voice whispering a single question into the quiet:

"Do you value your heart?"