chat this is my first blog thingy or whatever so don’t mind the many errors you’re about to witness 🌚
________________________________________
Mission done. Easy one, technically. In and out, minimal chaos, no major injuries.
You stood a few paces behind the rest of the crew, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes tracking the concrete like it owed you something. Gwen was debriefing with Lyla and Miles was laughing about Pav slipping off a collapsing wall mid-fight. Pav side eyed him before speed walking to catch up to Gwen, leaving Miles laughing before he started jogging up to tease him some more.
Hobie was already looking at you.
He'd been watching you since that last hit you landed on the anomaly, wrapping up the fight. Since the way you kept going long after it was down. The way your shoulders had tensed like you were still fighting something no one else could see.
But now you stood still. Perfectly composed. Untouchable.
He clicked his tongue and smirked.
"Not bad, luv," he called out, slinging his bat over one shoulder. "Thought you were gonna pass out halfway through. Y'held your own."
You didn't even glance his way. "Tell me something I don’t already know Hobie."
"Sure, sure." He grinned, walking beside you as the team moved toward the dimensional portal. "Just sayin'. Bit o' praise won't kill ya. Or d'you melt when people say nice things?"
That wasn't new. You were always like this. Stone-cold and quiet. Eyes that resembled a hurricane.
Hobie liked it. He liked annoying you. Liked digging under your surface just enough to see if you'd react. He didn't expect today to be any different.
Back at HQ, the others peeled off one by one, voices fading down the corridor. You stayed behind. Sat on the edge of the long table, hands braced behind you, head tilted toward the floor like you were just... waiting.
Hobie leaned against the wall across from you, mask in one hand, tuning a few strings on his guitar just to make noise.
After a minute, he looked up.
"You alright?" he asked lightly, accent curling around the syllables. "Or d'you need a full recovery playlist? I can start with somethin' soft. A ballad. Bit of heartbreak."
He clicked his tongue. "Oi. You gon give me the cold shoulder all day, or what?"
He grinned, amused at the game you were presumably playing. Wanting to irk you further, he pushed off the wall, and made his way toward you.
Just as he opened his mouth to say more smart ass remarks, he stopped.
Your shoulders were shaking. Barely — just enough to notice if you were looking for it. Your breath wasn't steady. It was clipped. Laboured.
You weren’t looking at anything.
Just wide and distant, like they were stuck somewhere far away — somewhere after the mission, after the anomaly, after that final hit you landed when everyone else had already backed off.
Like you were still there, fists clenched, adrenaline thick in your veins, haunted by something only you had heard.
Your pupils trembled in place, unfocused. Hollow in a way Hobie had never seen before.
He stepped closer slowly, the smart remark on his tongue long forgotten.
"Love?" hobie questions, his volume lowered a bit and brows furrowed, a bit puzzled to your silence. Sure you give him the cold shoulder but you'd still have a few cheeky words to say back.
He opens his mouth again to say something before he closes him mouth again, unsure how to approach you. His gaze not wavering from your lowered one, trying to get something out of you.
No reaction until your head dropped and tears were seen falling on your cheeks.
Hobie blinked, taken aback. In all the time he'd known you — all the missions, all the close calls, all the teasing — he'd never seen you like this. Nobody has.
You didn't make a sound. Didn't sob or scream. You just shook, shoulders stuttering and tears flowing without any intention of stopping.
He crouched in front of you, tone dropping with every inch.
"I'm not touchin' you," he murmured carefully. "I know you don't like it, just talk to me, yeah?"
Your eyes met his — red-rimmed, wet and terrified. Your mouth was quivering and Hobie felt a ping in his chest.
And before he could think, he opened his arms and you, with no hesitation, lurched forward and wrapped your arms around him.
Not a shove. Not a swing. Not even a nudge. An embrace.
He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. His arms went around you in an instant, pulling you in, grounding you. One hand curled around the back of your head, the other rubbing up and down your spine.
"It's alright. I got you. I got you, luv," he whispered, accent softer now, but still there. "You're alright. Let it out."
"I didn't know what else to do," you choked into his vest. “I just— I didn’t mean to—“
"None o' that now." He rocked slightly with you, keeping you anchored. "No blamin' yourself, you're here and you're safe. It's over now, yeah? Tis' over."
He murmured into your hair, keeping the slow and steady rhythm of rocking you slightly, keeping you against him tightly.
After long, quiet minutes, your breathing began to slow. The shakes faded into small twitches. You didn't let go, though — and neither did he.
He stayed there with you, crouched and holding, until the weight of the moment softened enough to let you breathe freely again.
And still, he didn't let go.
Your breathing had evened out by now, the adrenaline slowly bleeding from your limbs. But your body still felt heavy, like the weight of what the anomaly said was stitched into your skin.
You stayed in Hobie's arms, curled against him like the moment might shatter if you let go.
Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to see your face.
His hands — big, calloused, steady — rose to cradle your cheeks, thumbs brushing the tear tracks still glistening under your eyes.
His touch was gentle. Careful. Like he was handling something sacred.
And without saying a word, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Warm. Reassuring. Real.
He pulled back just an inch, eyes locking with yours, his voice quieter now — softer than you'd ever heard it.
"Y'don't have to tell me what's wrong. I ain't askin' for that. I'm just here, yeah? And I'm stayin'. That's all that matters right now."
You didn't reply. Didn't need to.
You nodded before leaning forward again, resting your forehead against collarbone, letting the quiet hold you both.
You melted back into his arms. No resistance. No distance. Just you, safe in the hold of the one person who saw straight through the cracks and stayed anyway.
Hobie exhaled through his nose, curling his arms tighter around you like a promise.
"Yeah," he murmured. "That's it, luv. I've got you."
And this time, you believed it.
________________________________________
Back to business. Back to the usual rhythm.
You sat at the same desk, arms crossed, back straight, face blank. Same way you always looked — cool, unreadable.
Like that out of line moment yesterday between you and Hobie hadn't happened.
Hobie leaned against the wall across from you again, tossing his mask up and down like it owed him rent. He gave you a look, eyes glued to your still figure.
You nodded once. "Just fine."
He smirked. "No emotional collapse? No tears?"
Your eyes glanced up at his grinning face before glaring.
He chuckled, stepping closer. "Right. Forgot. Must've hallucinated you sobbin' in my arms then. My bad."
You side eyed him before scowling. "Shut up."
He raised a brow. "That your way of flirtin', or threatenin' me?"
You opened your mouth to clap back—
Miles. Gwen. Pav. They froze in place mid-step, deadpanning.
All you could hear was crickets, the silence deafening. I glanced up over at them and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as a response to their reactions.
Miles was questioning if he had hearing problems. Gwen was extremely confused, her eyes switching back and forth between you and hobie. Pav, mouth agape, his eyes almost popping out of its socket before they all yelled,
I stared at the three blocking the doorway deadpanning before diverting my gaze at Hobie who was clutching his stomach, laughing his ass off. My face suddenly felt hot, my lips pressing into a thin line.
The trio who had just walked in felt my hard gaze and immediately stood up straight, Miles feeling the need to salute for some reason.
"SORRY!" they all blurted in sync — way too loud, like apologising fast enough might save their lives from your hardening stare.
Hobie, of course, didn't help the situation at all. He just leaned back casually on the desk beside you and grinned wide.
"Yep. Eyes all teary and lips all pouty, 'twas the sweetest thing I've ever seen."
You elbowed him hard in the ribs and he just laughed, rubbing his side. "What? Can't help it. I loved seein' you sook up to me".
Your glare intensified. "You're pushing it bee."
His lips curled at the sound of the nickname you’d gifted him — slow, smug, like it tasted sweeter every time he heard it. That glint sparked in his eyes as he stared you down, playful and sharp, like he was begging for you to crack.
"And yet," he drawled, accent thick now just to irritate you, "ere I am. Still breathin'. Still standin' next to you. Must be doin' somethin' right, no?"
Miles and Gwen exchanged looks, wide-eyed and whispering like it was discreet — it wasn't. Meanwhile, Pav was on the floor passed out from a sheer brain overload.
But the corners of your lips twitched — just for a moment — before you turned away, rolling your eyes like always.
That little crack in the armour.
And it made him fall even more harder for you.
