Hobie Brown X Y/n - Tumblr Posts

Hobie Brown x fem reader

When the reader has dyslexia, ADHD, and has trouble with spelling certain words or just forget how to spell the most simplest words ever gets insecure about their learning disability and then falls into a depressive episode (which is just them distancing themselves from other (Hobie) for weeks)

Who Needs Words Anyway?

Hobie Brown x femspiderpersonReader

Reader distances themself from Hobie after they fail to read a recent mission report in front of him. Hobie thinks nothing of it, but reader falls into a depressive episode.

Your Pov

I hate this, I fucking hate this. I asked Miguel to just get Lyla to tell me my missions over and over again, but it seems like that suck up ass won't listen. Now an envelope with my most recent mission assignment is staring at me. I feel myself begin to panic at the very idea of opening up the document, but considering my job, I have to. No way in hell am I going to get stuck in my reality, especially since my boyfriend might be restricted to see me. Although, he's never been one to play by the rules, and that's what I absolutely love about him. Taking much needed deep breath, I opened it and immediately I couldn't read a damn thing. All of the letters were all jumbled up except for a few, which didn't help because I still had no idea what the mission was. I let out a frustrated groan of annoyance and slammed the document down on the table in front of me.

"Oi, what's goin on in here love?" Hobie suddenly spoke making me nearly jump from my chair.

"Nothing, just a mission assignment, no biggie." I responded as casually as I could.

"Alright, what you got goin on?" He questioned walking towards me. He then sat on the table flashing one of his heart melting smiles that got me to date him in the first place. He really is a charmer, and he doesn't even need to try.

"Um...I haven't read it yet, but once I do I'll let you know." I said fidgeting with the paper before me.

"Can't you read it now, I want to see if there is a chance that I could come with you, not that I need permission or anything though." He said chuckling at the thought of breaking the rules once again.

"Nah, I think I'll read it later." I lied.

"Why can't you do it now, you ain't got nothin better to do." He joked.

"Sure, yea." I spoke quietly beginning to read the document once more yet failing once more. My anxiety began to spike considering Hobie still hadn't known about my conditions. I needed to get out as this situation was far too overwhelming for me to think. I began picking at my fingers trying to calm myself, but that didn't work. And suddenly I got up and ran out of the door unable to form a sentence to my boyfriend as he yelled my name.

Shooting my webs, I went to the highest point of the building and begin pacing all around it trying to calm myself. I couldn't face him and no way could I face Miguel again, especially since he knows about my conditions and hasn't even tried to accommodate me. Quickly I called Lyla and the fashionable AI came into view.

"Hey sugar, what's up?" She asked fixing her coat

"Can you please tell me my mission?" I asked her quickly

"Sure, but didn't you get the report?" she asked and I immedietly deadpanned at the fact that Miguel didn't even put my conditions on my file as she would know.

"Lyla I can't read them very well, can you please just tell me from now on and put it on my file considering the boss forgets to do so?" I asked her standing upside down looking at the futuristic city before me.

"Sure thing, and... done. Now as for that mission, you are to go to Earth-2341 and capture an anomoly known as the viper. Have fun!" Lyla said almost as though she was celebrating something.

"Thanks, I'll go right now." I told her knowing that going without preperation might not be a good idea.

"Be careful, want me to get Hobie to assist you?" She asked wiggling her eyebrows.

"Nah, I'll be fine." I reassured.

Three days later...

I was not in fact fine. My wounds were far more severe than I expected. I guess that's what I get for acting on my impulses. I numbly walked towards the infirmary sighing at the thought of getting scolded by the doctor for being too reckless again. My agony was washed away when out of the corner of my eye I saw Hobie. Although, as soon as that feeling of happiness came another feeling of regret and shame hit me like a truck and I began walking as fast as I could to try and avoid him. No way in hell was I going to talk to him right now, especially after what happened. I'm far too emmbarassed to be around him right now. However, I was no where near fast enough and I felt the soft touch of my boyfriend's hand on my shoulder and he tried to turn me around to face him.

"Hey love, oh shit are you alright?' Hobie greeted quickly as he began pulling my arm to the infirmary.

"No, I feel like shit, I was just on my way there and I don't need your help getting there, I know where its is." I snapped at him immidenietly regretting it due to the painfuil look in his beautiful brown eyes.

"I'm sorry, but don't take it out on me, I'm just trying to help." He said calmly and I was reminded once again why I'm with him in the first place. As he is the kindest and most honest person I have ever met.

"I don't need your help Hobie, just leave me be please, I need some space." I told him turning away and walking straight to the infirmary.

Two Weeks Later...

Fuck, I really should not have snapped at him like that. And all because I was too nervous to tell him about my dyslexia. He probably hates me now, but I'm too chicken shit to ask him. I haven't gotten much sleep since that day and I don't care considering I feel like I deserve it for how I treated my boyfriend. I sighed laying back down on my messy bed that I haven't had the energy to make it. Due to the severity of my injuries, I'm off missions for a few weeks until I'm fully healed. Miguel hates when we aren't perfect when completing our missions. I feel physically fine, I'm just not entirely there mentally at the moment. I felt so tired but all I've been doing is sleeping and waiting for Hobie to burst through the doors and make me do something with him. But he won't, I asked him to leave me alone and he's respecting that even though I don't want him too. Closing my eyes for the millionth time these past two weeks, I'm interrupted by someone shaking my head. My spidey sense didn't go off because it was the one and well many, Gwen Stacy.

"Get up, you need to go talk to him." She demanded picking me up off of my bed as I slouched onto the floor.

"No, don't wanna." I whined not looking up at her.

"Bullshit, you two love the hell out of each other. Talk to him and tell him everything." She said softer

"Girl, he's literally the least judgmental person ever. He won't even care about it because it doesn't effect you as a person." Gwen spoke crouching down placing her hand on my shoulder.

"You're right, you know where he is?" I asked getting up and finding fresher clothes to put on.

"Yeah, he's at his place." she said helping me pick something to wear even though there were piles of dirty clothes like everywhere.

"Thanks, wish me luck." I spoke finally dressed as I opened the portal to his dimension.

"You don't need it, but good luck." Gwen smiled with a thumbs up.

After making my way to his place I knocked on his door. He immediatley opened it and his eyes lit up as soon as he saw me. This clamed my nerves knowing he was still excited to see me I find myself seated on his couch that was probably over 100 years old. I can't complain though, this bitch was comfortable. Hobie stat on the other side of the couch looking at me as though he was waiting for me to speak.

"Love, you alright? What do you need to say." he asked

I took a deep shaky breath realizing its really okay. Gwen'sright about being the least most judgemental person here. Taking one more deep breath I began to tell him.

" First off, I'm so sorry for snapping at you two weeks ago and for telling you to leave me alone. The reason for it is that have dyslexyia meaning I sometimes get certain words mixed up and that's why I prefer to just be told my mission by Lyla rather than receiving a report like you or Gwen. I didn't tell you because I felt embarassed about it." I told him quickly looking down at my hands as I picked at my left palm.

"Love, that ain't nothing to be embarressed about. Wanna know why?" Hobie questioned with his right eyebrow cocked with a mischevious grin on his face.

"Why?" I chuckled at his face knowing he's say something ridiclous.

"Who needs words anyway, none of em' make sense most of the time." he joked cuckling at himself

"Pfft, Hobie lots of people do, that's how people communicate." I responded folding my arms across my chest giving him a grin as well.

"Nah, fuck the rules and everyone else. But seriously I'm glad you told me I feel like I know you better. So thank you for letting me in on that, love and I forgive you." Hobie reassured as he scooted next to me wrapping his longs arms around my body in a comforting hug as he stroked my head.

"I love you." I whispered leaning into him.

"Yeah, I love ya too." he said as he kissed my forehead nuzzling into temple. "Alright now, how's bout we cuddle and then order some pizza later, yea?" He suggested.

"Yeah, sounds good to me, Hobie." I told him as we both basked in the warmth of each other.

Thank you so much for reading💜

I hope I executed this well enough. I apologize if I did not. Im not the best at writing these topics, but I did my best. I’m officially off my break!

Please feel free to comment, request, and reblog

Click here to see what I’ll write for and HERE for my master list.

•I do NOT own any characters except y/n•

-L.W.L

The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

A relationship with a Hobie is literally Lana's song about a Brooklyn baby

(I'm just thinking yo) 

Well, my boyfriend's in a band He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed I've got feathers in my hair I get down to Beat poetry And my jazz collection's rare I can play most anything I'm a Brooklyn baby I'm a Brooklyn baby

N A V I G A T I O N ㅡ

antonia, she/they, KST, korean, main blog !!

" NIKKEORA "

posts ideally meant for anyone, really

PJ MASTERLIST // SV MASTERLIST // REQUESTS: OPEN // GUIDELINES // PROMPTS

>> grayson my beloved

>> damian ffs

>> i post on here about as frequently as tim sleeps

>> so

>> greek mythology n spiders kinda ded to me atm

>> i like bats now

currently streaming: young justice (2012? - 2021)

currently playing: too sweet - hozier

I do not consent to any of my work (art, writing, etc.) to be reposted or used on any platform.

tags below :)

The Whole Being Soulmates Thing

summary; in this world, soulmates exist. he has one. it’s just that he already found someone, and your marks don’t match at all.

or, in which a stupidly stubborn punk in stupidly in love with someone who’s not his stupid ‘real’ soulmate.

pairing; hobie brown x reader, spider-punk x reader (soulmate!au)

warning(s); mentions of police brutality, not-too-detailed descriptions of injuries. r is non-gendered, no mention of r’s race. not proofread & written in the wee hours.

i am not black, i don’t have wicks. i did some research on how to properly care for them and wrote tiny parts in here with the info i had, but it may not be totally accurate. if something is wring, let me know. same for the lcp.

also hobie might sound a bit ooc but it’s a quiet fic and we don’t rly see him ‘quiet’ so eat my ahh(/j)

inspired by this post by @corrodedcoffeen ! not exactly 100% accurate but yea

He lived in a world full of soulmates and soulmarks.

Everyone who had a soulmate had a soulmark, like a little tattoo; whether it be on their arm, leg, back, even on their face. Sometimes, a person would have multiple soulmarks. In other cases, they wouldn’t have any at all. Some people were born with their marks, some appeared later down the line.

In most cases, people would do anything to find their soulmate. To be with them. To unite with their missing half.

Hobie Brown was among those who’d been born with a soulmate. Four little streaks that wrapped halfway around his left arm, like a scar from an animal that had halfheartedly tried to claw the whole thing off at birth.

Hobie loved his soulmark.

Not because he’d met his soulmate. Nor was it because the idea of a predestined partner made him giddy. No, it was because he felt a sense of pride whenever he looked at it. Pride that he’d beaten the system when he got you.

His thoughts wander as he sits on your your and his shared bed, a towel flat under his bum to prevent any grime that may be on his suit from rubbing off on the sheets. His vest and T-shirt had been haphazardly folded and placed on the bathroom sink, desperately needing a thorough cleaning after a particularly hard day, which left his torso bare for you to assess and repair the damage he’d been dealt once you peeled off the top half of his suit.

“Bit eager, yeah?” He’d joked as you hastily helped him out of his clothes, that cheeky smirk still shining through on his tear-streaked face. You’d answered with an exasperated laugh.

He had come home at two in the morning, stumbling through the window with a hand over the right side of his mask. When he’d ripped it off, tossing it on a random bit of the floor somewhere, you were met with red eyes, wet cheeks, a runny nose and a blood-crusted lip. Apparently, he’d been at the frontlines of a protest when one of the tear gas shells hit him right in the face, cracking his right eye lense and leaving him vulnerable to the gas’s full effect. You didn’t need to be told what happened to know what came next. After all, it was always the same routine with the pigs - gas the crowd and beat any individuals that strayed from the mass.

Now, as Hobie’s fingers tap a little rhythm on the mattress, your hands glide a washcloth long his skin, being careful to minimize pressure on his bruises. Which, granted, is hard when they cover most of his back and ribcage, but you made it work somehow. Tear gas residue sticks to anything it can, and although his body was mostly had been mostly covered, it gave the both of you peace of mind to clean anything off just in case. He thanks you by softly gripping your other hand, his fingers lacing together with yours.

“Need more milk?” You ask, going to put the cloth down and grab the already half-empty sprayer on the ground next to the bed, having already been used in the bathroom just minutes prior and put there just in case. He shakes his head, the hand that’s not on yours gently grabbing your wrist and guiding it back to his chest.

As you continue, he thinks back to the first time he’d held your hand like that.

It was when the two of you were barely teenagers, when he didn’t fully understand how the whole ‘soulmates’ thing even worked, or how messed up it really was. The only thing he really knew was that people were supposed to stay together forever if their marks matched, even if that wasn’t always the case.

Having known each other since you were just kids, he remembers wishing so badly that your soulmark matched his. He had wished that little planet on your ankle could be washed away, a temporary tattoo or doodle instead of an actual mark. He remembers drawing little black holes at the corners of his school worksheets, hoping that one of them would eventually swallow your mark whole and replace it with four lines identical to his.

Back then, he had wished his ugly little bands would somehow arrange themselves into a square. At least then he could insist that his mark was a planet. A weird square one, yeah, but a planet just like yours.

But as you looked at him with that warm glow in your eyes, he swore you were the best thing that had ever happened to him, soulmate or not.

If only that kid could see him now - here, with you.

He suppresses a smile that threatens to slip onto his face, as moving his lips makes the cut sting.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” you mutter, wiping at the last bit of his torso. Hobie lets out a low sigh.

“‘M sorry love,” he says back, giving your hand a little squeeze. He really does mean it. He hates seeing the worry and sadness in your eyes every time he came back to you after one of these days. Fuck knows how he’d cope with it if you came home like this just every now and again, let alone what seemed like every other day recently. “I do try to be careful.”

You hum in response, getting up from your spot and holding out your hand for him to do the same. He does so with little to no hesitation, only waiting a moment to brace himself for the soreness that would follow. You lead him to the bathroom.

“Everything off,” you say, then immediately follow it up with, “Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say nothin’!” Hobie protests, feigning offense. As if that glint in his eye didn’t give it away.

“You need to get cleaned off properly.” You stress the lest word, letting go of his hand so that he can strip. “You can’t just go to bed after a quick wipe-down tonight. You need a shower.”

“But it’s gonna be cold.” Hobie groans. Tear gas wasn’t anything new, he’d had to clean the residue off of himself more times than he could count. That didn’t mean he was a fan of the cold showers that did most of the actual cleaning. Despite his complaints, he hastily steps out of his remaining articles of clothing as you start the water.

His muscles tense as he steps into the shower, pulling him out of his somewhat drowsy state. He quickly scrubs every part of his body, wanting to get out as fast as possible.

He washes his hair out last, taking care to not mess them up no matter how much he hates the temperature of the water. He’d made the mistake of trying to shampoo the whole of his head in one go just once before, and he’d be damned if he had to go running to the auntie down the street again to fix any tangles neither you nor him could sort out.

In his defense, he’d almost bled out just a couple hours beforehand that day. Having your first (superhero-related) near-death experience tends to shake you up a little.

“You’re such a man-baby,” you’d teased him as Hobie gripped your hand for dear life, the woman you’d guaranteed could get that nightmare of a knot out sorting through his hair with an arsenal of olive oil and a wide toothed comb.

“Oh piss off—” his reply was cut short as she detangled a particularly nasty bit of the problem, unfortunately having to tug exceptionally hard at his head. “Ow!”

The woman - Aunt Margaret, as you’d introduced her - tsked at him to sit still, poking at the tangle with the handle of her comb to see if it would give way now. Luckily, most of it did. She muttered something along the lines of ‘young people nowadays’, but in a sort of gruffly affectionate sort of way. From what you’d told him, Aunt Margaret was sort of the neighborhood mom, always helping people who needed it no matter how much she gave them grief for it.

The three of you made small talk over tea after his hair was nice and hairball-free, albeit a little slippery. Turned out, Aunt Margaret had plenty of stories of her own to share. Hobie had been delighted to hear about everything that had happened when she was a part of the League of Colored Peoples, almost ready to practically beg the woman to adopt him.

Two weeks later, when he decided to drop by again, the topic of soulmates came up. Aunt Margaret asked if he’d found his soulmate yet, to which he replied he didn’t believe in the soulmate system. She nodded in agreement.

“Just as well,” she had said, a frown making its way onto her face. “I’ve seen too many good people get their hearts broken because of that bloody mark.” She eyed his upper arm, exposed in the sleeveless top he’d worn at the time. “I got mine covered ages ago.”

“Did you meet your soulmate before that?”

Aunt Margaret shook her head. “That’s a story for another time, Bartholomew.”

He still makes time for tea with her every week or so.

The second he steps out of the shower, he’s greeted with a huge, warm towel fresh from the dryer. He wraps it around himself as you usher him back to the bedroom where you’d laid out some comfy clothes for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the clothes he’d discarded on the bathroom floor is long gone, along with his vest and tee that were sitting on the sink.

“I put the studs out on the veranda to air out,” you say, noticing him glance at the empty sink. “They’ll need washing, though. My eyes got all weird when I looked at the vest too close, and your belt’s not much different. The rest of everything’s in the machine.”

Pulling on his bottoms, Hobie silently nods at your words before pulling the tank top you’d dug out for him over his head. He then walks over to place a kiss on your head. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to leech off your warmth. He lets out a little noise of contentment when he feels you hug him back.

Wordlessly, he walks the two of you to your the shared vanity, plopping himself down on the seat. You grab the hairdryer off the table, checking to make sure it’s okay for you to help before switching it on to dry his wicks. Hobie closes his eyes as you make your way through each piece, eventually stopping once there’s no more water to be purged. Your fingers sorting through his hair so carefully is calming - almost therapeutic, and it takes all his willpower to keep himself sitting straight up for you.

After that, he clumsily grabs you and throws you over his shoulder, ignoring how you yelp in surprise and unplugging the dryer. He then proceeds to carry you around your place, flicking off all the lights before getting back to the bedroom and (softly) throwing you on the mattress.

“Was that really necessary?” You groan as he throws the sheets over the both of you. Hobie then proceeds to drag himself half on top of you, using you as a full body pillow.

“Definitely.” He replies, his voice a bit muffled against your pajamas.

You laugh. “Sure.”

He tilts his head up to give you a goodnight kiss, murmuring ‘dream ‘bout me’ next to your ear to which you respond by playfully pushing him away.

“Rude,” He mutters, smiling into your clothes as he huffs in indignation. Your laugh echoes through your body, a sound more beautiful than any music he had or would ever hear.

He doesn’t fall asleep too easily that night. Rogue thoughts on soulmates and fate flinging about his skull. For some reason, they’d all picked tonight to bug him to pieces.

Unknowingly, his grip around you tightens, feeling your weight in his arms. It grounds him as all the doubts try to throw him off, to destabilize something perfectly happy.

What if they find their soulmate? Then they’ll decide if they want me or them. (Me.)

What if I find my soulmate? What, like I’d break their heart for a stranger? Yeah. Fat chance.

He swatted those questions away like pesky little mosquitoes until he eventually fell asleep, choosing to focus instead on your heartbeat ringing in his ears.

So what if you two weren’t soulmates? He loves you, you love him. That’s all that matters.

The universe can suck an egg.

—

The next morning, Hobie woke up at 11, as usual. You woke up right after him as he stirred, like you always did. The two of you lounged in the comfort of your the sheets for a while before you had to eventually get up for breakfast.

Hobie was trailing behind you on your walk to the kitchen when something catches his eye.

His reflection in the vanity mirror.

Something’s… off.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Y/n?” He calls, looking down at his upper arm just to make sure the mirror isn’t playing tricks on him. Sure enough, there it is.

You turned around at his voice, eyebrows furrowed in a confused way. “Hm?”

“Look.”

He watches as your confusion morphed into surprise and then back to confusion again. Then you auickly check your ankle, confusion turning into realization.

“We match.”

Your soulmarks had somehow changed overnight, turning into small, stylized sun symbols that stand out more than either of your marks before ever did, clear as day.

It’s a few moments of stunned silence before laughter breaks out between the two of you.

“You know what we have to do now,” you manage, an arm around the front of your midsection and the other hand on your face.

“I think I do.” Hobie says, practically wheezing

By the end of the day, the two of you have covered up your new soulmarks with mismatching tattoos.

DATING HOBIE BROWN HEADCANONS

WARNINGS: ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE SPOILERS.

PAIRINGS: HOBIE X GN! READER

— Hobie brown is that type of lad to randomly carry you while walking then jump around with you, he does it all the time, on stage, backstage, at your house, at the park, in the parking lot. Anywhere.

— He would constantly buy you gifts since he's busy being a rockstar and spiderman. He's constantly on the road, sometimes with you, but unlike him, you aren't spiderman. You still help cover for him and call the police to catch the recent bad guy he had stopped but it doesn't help him but feel as if he takes you for granted.

— He's always swinging you from place to place, whenever he needs to clear his mind, he takes a midnight swing and always invites you. Sometimes while swinging, he throws you up in the air to hear you scream then teases you about it.

— Everytime there's a minor inconvenience, he just walks away, just like in the movie. If you argue, he just says your right, even if he doesn't think that, then goes away till you cool off.

— My dude LOVES affection. He constantly hugs or kisses you, maybe does other things too, but mosty hugs and kisses. He constantly hugs you from behind and kisses your cheek.

— During his Canon event, he had barley taken care of himself and you had to remind him to eat, drink and sleep so he could function. He never forgot about that and he never will, during those moments he was at his worst and you picked up his pieces and placed him back into the hilarious, outgoing and confident spider he is.

— Whenever you get scared by a spider, instead of being a decent human being and removing the spider from the area, setting it free, he's a little shit who will grab the spider, I'm not joking, GRAB. The spider then proceed to chase you around with it.

— If you'd sleep in, he would start playing some metal shit on his guitar to wake you up, and not just any metal, HEAVY METAL. You've woken up multiple times just by him playing his guitar to wake you up since you are 'a heavy sleeper.'

— He doesn't get jealous that often since he has complete faith in you, your relationship is built on trust and love, nothing will ever change that.

— He will do anything for you. Want chocolates at 3 AM? He'll buy you chocolates at 3 AM. You want to watch a movie, he'll swing you to the movies and you'll watch together. You want him to threaten someone? Just send him the address.

— His love language is quality time and music. Bro loves it and if you make him a playlist he is down bad on his knees.

just hear me out, alright? Hobie brown with Y/N who has a 90's grudge aesthetic, and is really into like hand-made pins, and chains, and jewelry. Like you'd make him little pins, and put them on his jacket and your hands would kinda fumble and touch each other- or like you make him wallet chains out of pop-tabs and you never see him without it on ever again. or or- making him mosh bracelets with cut up jeans and spare studs, and now every time you see him, he's wearing it along with the rest of the leather ones on his wrist.

Hobie brown is the typa guys to invite you over and put on some song youve never heard and when you ask what song he'd go, "oh its some underground band i found"

And he'd tell you the song name and when you look it up it's some 23(?) year old dude who goes by 'woablalaba ding dong' who released one song like 6 years ago and then never put out anything ever again

And you'd be like 'hey hobs, uh, how tf did you find this guy' and he'd just shrug and not ever mention them again

Hobie brown is the type of guy to say "that's so punk, babe." Whenever you do anything.

Leaving the house in pajama pants cause you don't care what the people in the Corner store think anymore? Punk.

Helping one of your friends study for an exam? Punk.

Saying fuck it and skipping a class because the professor is a ass? Punk.

N' if you're a guy and paint your nails or wear skirts? "So punk, darlin'"

Maybe its his way of tellin' you hes proud. Or maybe he just thinks it's fun to say. Who knows? But he loves the way you roll your eyes and smile every time he does it.

Hobie brown would text so funny. Like no auto correct, no punctuation, and he's always in a hurry he isn't worried about spelling.

Plus!!! He would use abbreviations so much- you have no clue what hes saying. He didn't add spaces sometimes too. You're half convinced he just does this to bother you.

"abes Ia b a mun l8 dbt wajt upluv y"

"hobie what the fuck."

Guys i lowkey really wanna write for hobie brown but idk if anyone will read it 😭😭😭😭

The spider-verse fandom is kind dead but my Hobie headcannons are getting a bit of attention so i might just post a hobie fic idk im still obsessed with him--

Okay so im working on a hobie brown oneshot right now.. thoughts?

"By the end of the it, he was convinced you were some kind of angel. 

He didn't even believe in that kind of thing, he never did. But there wasn't any chance that someone as perfect as you was human. 

(He didn't believe in perfection either)"

So glad this post had the effect i wanted it too :)

(ur right btw)

Hobie brown would text so funny. Like no auto correct, no punctuation, and he's always in a hurry he isn't worried about spelling.

Plus!!! He would use abbreviations so much- you have no clue what hes saying. He didn't add spaces sometimes too. You're half convinced he just does this to bother you.

"abes Ia b a mun l8 dbt wajt upluv y"

"hobie what the fuck."

Noticing you <33

Hobie brown x gn!reader oneshot

My first time doing a whole oneshot for hobie! Any advice on his character is happily accepted :)

Warnings: a lil blood, no use of y/n, i dont think anything else but if you notice something tell me!!

Summary: hobie slowly falling you <3

-----------

Hobie brown wasn't sure when he first noticed you. But he thought it was the class trip you took in secondary school. 

He was always vaguely aware of you. People talked, they always did. He was vaguely aware of all the not-quite-normal people, the goths, the emos, the other punks.... And so he knew you existed. 

And then you went on this trip..

You weren't in the same room, but you were in the same chaperone group. 

And then he was painfully aware you existed. 

He saw that whenever there was a street performaner you would run and put a few dollars into their case, and he noticed when you offered your sunglasses to someone from another group, and he saw how you would pick up little trinkets from the ground and shove them into your pockets like a bird.

He watched when you smiled whenever someone said something nice about you. He watched you sit by a kid you didn't know because they were alone. He was painfully aware whenever the two of you made eye contact and you smiled at him, he always looked away.

He watched when you held a crying kid's hand and helped her find her mom.

And on the bus ride back, he noticed how you fell asleep sitting up, your head resting on the window. he noticed when you woke up too. And how you yawned and.. he noticed just about all of it. 

By the end of the it, he was convinced you were some kind of angel. 

He didn't even believe in that kind of thing, he never did. But there wasn't any chance that someone as perfect as you was human. 

(He didn't believe in perfection either)

He  took notice of you in the hallways, and when you got on the school bus. then he noticed how whenever he was sent down to the office for his 'behavior issues' (another thing he didn't believe in) you were sitting with the school councilor. 

Eventually, though a friend, you too started talking. And then you started hanging out with his friend group.

He noticed you when the group hung out for the first time out of school. It was just the mall, and he noticed how you offered to me buy him a shirt when he said he didn't bring money.  

He rejected the offer but he didn't protest when you Gave him half of your pretzels from the food court, claiming you 'weren't that hungry'. He could tell it was a lie.

Eventually when he did get your number from the same mutual friend, he was a bit too happy when you texted back immediately. 

And then you guys got closer.

He noticed how you would mess with his rings whenever he'd let you, and how you would always tug on that wallet chain you wore. He wondered what you would do if he started tugging on it.

And eventually, he got more confident.

And, yeah, Hobie was always touchy. And, yeah, you didn't mind when his fingers tugged on your belt loops, or his arm wrapped around your shoulder whenever you stood next to him.

Eventually, you met up just the two of you, cause the rest of the group was busy. It was casual, and you definitely didn't panic a little when he grabbed your hand as you walked around that old record store he wanted to show you around.

His voice pulled you back to reality a moment after, "you alright?" He smiled after you nodded, "what kinda music you like, luv?"

And then there was tonight.

He was panicked, and hurt, and he didn't know where else to go. His suit was half covered in blood, which was coming from his left arm. He was dizzy, and he could barly stand right. He didn't realize where he was untill he was knocking on the window of your flat.

When you opened you window, he tugged off his mask.

He noticed how scared you looked for a moment, as your hand flew over your mouth, but he was thankful as you opened your window.

He noticed how focused you looked as he sat silently and your wrapped arm with bandaids and an ace bandage. And he was thankful when you gave him Tylenol and one of your oversized hoodies. You even offered to wash his suit.

Finally, when you knew he was okay, and he was laying down in your bed (next to a pile of stuffed animals which he thought was excessively cute) you had a chance to question him.

He noticed how your eyebrows furrowed as you asked him about being spiderman, and you asked him if he was feeling okay again. Then you asked him the question he was the most worried about.

"..why did you come here?"

You noticed as he hesitated for a moment.

Hobie gave it a thought why did he come here? He was half delirious, he could say that. Or he could be honest.

"You make me feel safe. I Knew you could help me out, figured I could trust you with the whole secret identity thing too."

You noticed that he seemed more mellow then he normally did, more soft. It made your heart melt.

You offered to sleep on the couch in the main room, but he promised he wouldn't mind sleeping next to you. Honestly? You didn't mind either.

Eventually, you ended up in his arms, pressed against his chest, his head in the crook of your neck.

He could hear your heartbeat, and you could feel his hands on your waist.

"...thanks, luvie."

He whispered quietly, and you felt him press a kiss onto your shoulder. His voice could give you goosebumps, and his lip piercing felt warm on your skin.

"Course' Hobes.."

You whispered back, almost unsure. He noticed that, of course he did.

Hobie Brown wasn't sure when he fell in love with you, but he was sure it happened. And he was sure that it was never going to change.

Eventually, he'll tell you, that's what he promised himself that night.

What he couldn't notice was how you promised yourself the same thing.

i was wondering, are we allowed to req fics? js curious. <3

I would be so honored to take any fic recs ⊂⁠(⁠(⁠・⁠▽⁠・⁠)⁠)⁠⊃

Masterlist

requests open! I will not do smut but anything else is pretty much on the table :)

All Gender Neutral reader unless specified otherwise!

All SFW

Fandoms I write for:

Percy Jackson and the Olympians/Heros of Olympus

Into/Across the Spider-verse

that's it so far but there's always a chance the hyper-fixation fairy will visit me in the night

PJO Fics-

Percy Jackson:

babysitting<3 --in which Percy finds you asleep on his couch after babysitting his lil sis

Percy dating HCs

nice to have a friend: winter nights, gloves, and your impulsive best friend

Percy Jackson kissing your sh scars: blurb, tw for sh scars

Luke Castellan:

Prison for life<33: Luke Castellan song fic inspired by prison for life by Olivia Rodrigo

Clingy Luke drabble: how Luke loves touching you

Diet mountain dew: based off lana del rey...coming soon!

Leo Valdez:

Leo with Undiagnosed Adhd reader drabble: It's just the name I don't know to summarize this

Foresight (headcannons): In which Leo's best friend has visions and one day they see them together (Apollo!reader)

Animals!: in which Leo tries to win you over with his favorite animal!

Lovely: Leo Valdez with a child of Aphrodite Headcannons

Chefs: cooking w leo!

Early mornings: leo wakes u up but its fluff

Nico di Angelo:

- Nico getting a sibling..: angst

-pomegranate blood (pt. 1): pico tw for drugging

ATSV Fics-

Hobie Brown:

Noticing you: Hobie brown slowly falling inlove with you

Hobie brown texting drabble

That's so punk babe drabble

Risk by Gracie Abrams but its hobie brown x best friend!reader and they're like soooo in love w him and like... Too soon to tell you i love you... Too soon to tell you i love you- YOURE THE RISK IM GONNA TAKE

And then reader kisses him and immediately regrets it cuz they're scared

Just a silly lil thought (another fic in my drafts)

Hobie brown x Midwest emo! Reader

Aka: Hobie brown visiting his mom's home town before his senior year of highschool and meeting you!

I'm planning to make it a series... Expect part one soon! Will also be posted on: Ao3, and maybe wattpad

Let me know if you want to be on the taglist :)

Land i was raised on- Epilogue

Hobie brown x Midwest emo!reader

Chapter summary: The day hobie went back to his hometown for the summer

Series summery: Hobie Brown's Mom wanted him to spend his Summer in their small hometown. He thought it would be a drag, but the kid across the street and their loud music, old flannels, and hatred of the midwest might make it a little better.

Cw: i don't think any, though it may change in the next few chapters, ill update each one :)

The car ride to Hobie's home town was silent, the radio playing quietly as Hobie watched the trees pass.

The car felt too small after Hobie's last growth spurt. It was the same car his mom bought when Hobie was seven, but back then it felt like a luxury. 

His mom drove slowly through forests and a few small towns, sometimes pointing out high schools she competed against when she was in school. 

Honestly, Hobie didn't mind. Sure, he wasn't hyped about spending his months off school in some small town in ohio, but all of his older siblings had graduated and his mother desperately wanted to visit her parents. So, he tagged along. His guitar was buried in the trunk, along with a few suitcases of clothes and personal items. 

The drive from New York to Ohio was a decently long one, not that he had much to compare it too. He'd only been on a few vacations and school trips in his life, his family wasn't very well off, but they made it work. 

He could tell they were getting close when his mom's comments became more frequent, pointing out a drive-in movie theater off the side of a empty road, and when they got to the town she pointed out the library, public pool, the small shopping mall, and an old high school. 

It seemed like a nice place, but everything felt so old. Hobie had been here once or twice when he was a kid, but that was years ago. Every memory he made had long faded. 

Hobie was relieved to get out of the car when his mom pointed to a house and said that this was his grandparents house. it was vaguely familiar.

It was in a nice-ish neighborhood, houses lined the road, which had a number of potholes and cracks. He was pretty sure he'd seen a church a block or two away too, he only hoped his grandparents weren't religious fanatics. 

"This is where I grew up. You remember it, don't you?"

"Yeah..." Hobie said, stepping out of the car, "Kind of." 

His mother smiled at him, "Thank you for coming, I know it's not quite your ideal summer, but i think it'll be good for you to Spend some time out of the city."

His mother was a soft woman, but that wasn't to say she wasn't strong. His father had passed a few years prior, and she did her best to raise Hobie and his siblings in the city. He figured that giving her the summer before his senior year was the least he could do. 

"Now, I'm gonna go say hi to Mom, you can grab yourself now, they'll show you to your room..." She paused for a moment, turning to face him, "I love you." 

"I love you too." 

He opened the trunk, pulling out his guitar case and his biggest suitcase before turning back to the house. 

-----------------

Hobie unpacked his suitcase into the old wooded dresser and the small closet. He was mentally debriefing about his arrival.

In the past almost seven years, he'd only spoken to his grandma and his pops over the phone. Not frequently either, mainly on holidays or birthdays. From what he'd seen, they were pretty cool. 

His pops had commented on his sex pistols shirt, and asked if he was into that kind of music. When Hobie said yes, his pops promised Hobie a drive to a record store a town over that sold lots of old records. 

His grandma greeted them with a plate of cookies on the table and led him up to his mom's old room. It had nice white walls and light blue curtains. There was a queen sized bed shoved in one of the corners with a quilt that looked older than Hobie laid over it. A small desk was pushed under the window and next to the window was a cork board, which Hobie took the Liberty of putting up the few pictures he brought of his friends. 

That was the only thing he really dreaded. He didn't have any friends here. Not that he had a whole bunch back in new york, but he had Gwen, who was his drummer and year under him in school, and Pav, who played keys and always gave Hobie food to bring home. Plus that Miles kid that Gwen begged Hobie to teach bass so he could be in the band- though it really didn't take much begging. They were his people, his band. The Mary Janes. He already felt like he was missing out by not being there for the end of school, though, party is a strong word for a few kids underage drinking in someones bedroom, but still.

All things considered, he liked it here. it was nice. The normal sound of car horns and engines was gone, though it was replaced with the neighbors lawn mower. And his only problem was that his grandma kept calling him "Hobart" and not "Hobie". It only really bothered him because no one called him his full name other than a few of the difficult teachers at school. 

Once his grandma called for him to eat and he found his seat in the dining room, his Mom started talking about plans for the summer.

"I think you're gonna like it here. One of these days you can look up things to do. I think the old skate rink is still open, we hung out there all the time when I was a kid. And Ceader Point is just two hours from here, we'll get season passes and drive down there a few times."

She kept talking, but Hobie focused on his food. He only started listening again once his Pop's chimed in.

"We're all driving up to the farmers market tomorrow, so you'll be here alone for a while. You can drive around, but you need to be here until twelve so Y/n can come mow."

"Who?"

"Y/n, they live two houses down. Sweet kid. You'll just need to open the garage for them so they can get the mower. After they leave the day is yours."

Hobie hummed, "yeah, will do."

---

Taglist: @muffin1304 @shallweselvi

hobie blurb bc we all know those fingers are good at more than just playing guitar

hobie brown loves the fact that his fingers can make music in two ways. he can play his guitar and strum intricate cords that took him years to learn. and he can play your music. touching you in just the right way to get those pretty moans out your mouth and carefully using his fingers to hit all of those good spots inside of you.

unlike music, hobie doesn’t wanna share these noises with the world. these are only patterns that he’ll understand, only he can make you feel this good. of course he’d show you off. but only he gets to know the symphonies you chant in the bedroom. a crying moaning mess because his long fingers are filling you up so good while you beg him to slow down. he eggs you on, doing things that he knows will make you louder. hobie would get down on his knees and eat you out, of course for his and your pleasure, but also to hear those songs spilling from your mouth. it’s a beautifully romantic melody.