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~In which Hobie doesn't do consistency. ~

wc: 0.6k

warnings: none :)

Hobie was a lot of things to you. A roommate, a best friend, and sometimes more. Sure, he kisses you and you sleep in the same bed on occasion but there was no label. There wasn't a name for whatever the two of you had going on and it seemed that Hobie liked it that way.

He never really was one for consistency some days he would be more like your boyfriend than anything. He would take you out with his hand in your back pocket and a smile that goes up to his ears. Kissing you as gently as he could like he feared you would break. Hobie held you like water in his hands. Other days he was your best friend and just that. You would sit together on the shitty sofa you bought together for your apartment (he calls it your flat). You could have moments of peace where the two of you pigged out on takeout and watched the worst movies imaginable.

There was nothing really wrong with the way things were now or at least that's what he thought, but to you this was hell on Earth-138. The thought of the simple instability in your maybe relationship gave you a headache. Not sure how to approach the topic one day you knock on his door.

Hobie opens his door of course and greets you with a smile. The type of smile a child with an ice cream cone has. An unadulterated childlike happiness. Until he sees the look on your face.

Nervous isn't even enough to describe the way you feel walking into his room and plopping yourself on his bed. The feelings of anxiety settle in the pit of your stomach and manifest physically. Tapping your feet and picking at the skin surrounding the cuticles trying your best not to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"We need to talk" You sighs out her words as they move slowly out from your stomach into the air. Hobie tilts his head and sighs wiping a hand across his face

"This sounds...serious" His voice reflects his emotions perfectly he's not too calm but not too nervous. The exact opposite of how you felt.

You take a few breaths trying to unjumble your thoughts and get your words in the right order. A heavy silence fills the air as both of you wait for the words to come out of your mouth.

"What are we Hobie. I mean- I like what we have going I just need to know what exactly it is, or I'll lose my mind. Are you my boyfriend are we just friends are we just roommates. We go on dates we do dating stuff but you haven't made it official are you talking to other people?" All the thoughts you've been pilling in your head for the past few months come spilling out in awkward ways. Your voice is quick and stutters not knowing how to express the way you feel due to all the nerves and other thinking.

He laughs. Of all things Hobie can do in a situation like this he laughs because of course he does. Then he sees the look on your face and realizes the reality of the situation. He takes your hands in his and bends down slightly to look you in the eyes.

"You're my person. I thought we both knew that we were each other's people. If you wanna put a label on this, we can. Just thought it wasn't needed since we both knew we belong to each other."

He shrugs trying to be nonchalant. "Guess that was stupid though."

An immense weight lifts off your shoulders as you now know you and Hobie have been exclusive this whole time. Next time his weird friends come around he introduces you as his "partner in crime aka the love of my life" The labels help you relax a bit and Hobie learns to respect that.

Hobie with an awkward girl…

I just thought it’d be fun cause he’s like chilled out and all that and then the awkward girlie is introducing herself with a handshake

no because he'd be so chilled while she's shitting herself

hobie brown x fem!reader

warning: alcohol consumption

wc: ±680

A/N: none

gif not mine, all credit to original creator.

You weren't one to go to parties too often, but your friend had convinced you to join her tonight. You can't say no to free booze she had said and you reluctantly decided to give in and tag along.

But you didn't know where your friend was now. She had ditched you a little while ago to get herself a drink, but you had a hunch that she got a bit sidetracked. It also didn't help that you didn't know anyone at the party anyway, so had resorted to standing in the corner, silently watching as everyone enjoyed themselves.

You had gotten bored and decided to make your way to the kitchen, also in need of a drink. Who knows, you might find your friend passed out in the punch bowl. You had a habit of looking at your feet instead of looking infront of you when walking, and this had led you to bump into a solid chest. Thank goodness your cup was already empty; you probably would have died of embarrassment if you spilled anything on them too.

You were about to apologize profusely for your clumsiness, when you noticed the figure in front of you. The first thing you noticed, was how freakishly tall he was. You weren't necessarily short, but this guy towered over you, and you had to crane your neck just to meet his eyes.

You also noticed the abundance of piercings and crazy jewelry that adorned him, along with his amazing hair.

"You alright?" he asked, and you realized that you had just been staring at him, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. "Yeah I'm fine I'm just— I'm sorry for bumping into you," you said and he gave you a small smile. "No problem," he said and you breathed a sigh of relief at his calm reaction. You really weren't looking forward to getting shit.

"Haven't seen you around here," he said as his eyes quietly scanned your figure. "Oh uhm—" you wiped your hand on your pants and outstretched it, offering him a handshake as you introduced yourself. His brows furrowed at your formality, but he humored you, taking his hand from his jacket's pocket and placing it in yours. He couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous gesture.

"Can't tell you the last time I shook someone's hand," he smiled as he retracted his hand, once again placing it into his pocket. That was a stupid thing to do. He probably thinks I'm so weird now, you thought to yourself, mentally giving yourself a face palm.

"I'm sorry," was all you could think of saying. "It's all good. I'll see you around yeah?" he said before maneuvering his way around you. You turned around to see where he was off to, and it was when you noticed he had also turned around, facing you again. You felt like a creep who got caught, and had to stop yourself from turning around again and walking away.

"I like your shirt, by the way," he added and you looked down at said item as if you hadn't been wearing it all night. "Thanks, printed it myself," you said, still looking down at the design on the front of your shirt. "Yeah? That's wicked," he said and you saw how his eyes lit up at your admission.

"That's a compliment I'll gladly accept coming from you," you said, and you saw him furrowing his brows. "Because you're so cool," you elaborated, "with the cool hair and jewelry and everything. Like you just ooze so much confidence, it's crazy actually." You hadn't even realized you were rambling. "Well, I'm glad you think I'm cool," he said with a smirk, "you're not to bad yourself." and before you had time to reply he had dissappeared between the sea of people.

You felt someone touching your shoulder and turned around to find your friend. She was already pleasantly buzzed. "Meet anyone interesting?" she asked handing you a drink, and you then realized you didn't even know the guy's name. You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. "Yeah, actually."

★ edit: i wrote second part to this if you wanna check that out.

thank you for reading 𖹭

this is a sort of continuation of this request for @xoxobabe. wc: ±1310

That night you went home unsated, thoughts of your interaction with the cool stranger plaguing your mind. You were a bit upset you didn't even get his name, so you had no way of finding him.

You just couldn't get over how cool he was, effortlessly so too. He walked around with unmissable confidence and suave, like he knew everyone was in awe of him. You'd give everything to have another conversation with him, preferably one where you didn't make a complete fool of yourself.

A few days later it seemed as though your prayers had been answered when your friend had payed you a visit. "I went to visit my friend, it was a small gathering, just a few people, and some guy there asked for you," she said as the two of you sat on your small couch.

Your breath hitched a bit at the possibility that it could be him, and your brows rose in intrigue. "Who was it?" you asked and she shrugged. "He didn't give me a name. Just asked where you were and asked me to give you this," she fished in her pants pockets until she pulled out a small paper and handed it to you. On it was a number scribbled in almost unreadable handwriting.

"What did he look like?" you asked, inspecting the small paper. "Really tall, lots of piercings and crazy clothes, had wicks?" she said and you tried not to look too elated. It was him, and he had asked for you. Maybe you hadn't made a complete fool of yourself.

That night you had planned to called him. But you didn't.

Three weeks; you had kept the little piece of paper by your nightstand for three weeks and not once did you call him. You'd come close, already pressing the numbers in but every time you tried to press "call", you'd drop everything, once again placing the paper on your nightstand.

You didn't know why were so hesitant. A small part of your brain kept telling you that you'd royally fuck up once you started talking again. You didn't even know what you'd talk about too. What if once you called him you'd freeze up like an idiot, or say something so stupid and weird that he'd have no choice but you hang up.

It bothered you as well. He must've thought you didn't want to talk to him, but you did. You so badly did, but you just didn't know where to start. Ironic seeing that you had all the facilities, just not the willpower to do anything with them.

♪.˳⁺⁎˚

Your friend had asked you to join her to go and see some band perform, and you had gladly agreed. Anything to take your mind of the little paper burning a hole in both your nightstand and your mind. You had dressed in your best, spent hours on your hair and makeup, the whole shebang. You needed a night out more than anything.

The venue was fairly small but quite full, but you and your friend fortunately found place quite close to the actual stage. She kept your place while you went to the little bar to get the two of you drinks. By the time you carefully made your way back to her, squeezing through the crowd trying not to spill anything, you heard the static of the mic and the band getting introduced. You tried to get a look while you moved but it was so packed all around you.

When you made it to your friend and finally got a chance to see the performers—just as they began—you couldn't believe your eyes.

Right there in front of you on stage, he stood, playing guitar like he was getting payed to do it (which he probably was). It was definitely a sight for sore eyes, and you felt like burying your head into the ground like an ostrich. If he saw you, you'd probably combust on the spot just from the embarrassment alone. How your friend forget to add this detail when telling you about tonight, you didn't know.

The band itself was amazing too. You enjoyed the music, it might not have have been what you'd listen to normally but still good music. Once they finished their performance the crowd erupted in applause and cheer. As everyone cheered you moved back into the crowd, telling your friend you needed another drink. Lord knows you truly did.

You made your way back to the small bar, politely ordering and watching intently as the bartender stared working on your drink. The sudden call of your name prompted you to turn around and once you did you wished you hadn't. It was him, of course it was.

"How've you been stranger?" he asked and you wanted to crawl in on yourself. Run away if you could. "I've been good," you smiled awkwardly as he joined you on the adjacent bar stool. "How about you?" you added.

He pursed his lips before replying. "Not too well, considering you never called," he said, "didn't your friend give you my number?" Maybe it wasn't too late to start running.

"No she did," you said quietly, "and I was planning on calling. It's just that I didn't really know how to start the conversation over the phone, if that makes sense." He only nodded, moving his body so that his body was now entirely facing you.

"Well, I'm here now, so how would you begin the conversation face-to-face?" he asked and you smiled. "I'd start by asking what the hell your name was," you said and he laughed. He extended his hand, mimicking your initial introduction. "Hobie," was all he said, although it sounded a lot more like 'Obie through his thick accent. You placed your hand in his and shook it gladly. "It's nice to meet you," you smiled.

"Your band, you guys did great, by the way," you said, thanking the bartender once he handed you your drink. "Yeah? You liked it?" he asked and you nodded excitedly. "Loved it," you said and he smiled. The sight nearly had you in shambles. "I'll have to attend every performance from now on. Just my duty as your new number one fan," you added, taking a gulp sip from your drink, your nerves not yet gone.

"Well then I can guarantee I'll be playing ten times better with you front row," he said with a smirk and you had to stop yourself from choking on your drink. "Don't inflate my ego," you said, yet you hated how small your voice sounded. "'M not," he tried, "jus' stating the facts." You found yourself giggling like a school girl.

The conversation continued for what felt like hours, the two of you sitting by the small bar, contently caught up in your own little bubble. It wasn't until one of his bandmates had called for him, telling him that they needed to pack up and get going, that he had to say goodbye.

"I hate to cut this night short love, but I have to get going," he said, standing up. You tried not to show how the nickname made your stomach flip. "It's alright, it's getting late anyway," you said, also standing up, suddenly remembering about your friend that you had deserted. "You'll call me this time, yeah?" he asked and you nodded with a small laugh.

"Good. I'll see you around, love. Take care, yeah?" and then he dissappeared into the crowd once again. You drank the last if the drink and tried to find your friend.

When you did, you apologized at your disappearance. "It's alright," she said, "I saw you were too busy with mister rockstar." You rolled your eyes at her words and the two of you made your way home. That night you planned to call him, and luckily you did.

❝EUROPEAN NONSENSE — SPIDERVERSE HCS

summary ; hobie with a hispanic girlfriend who loves to cook and makes her food spicy or very seasoned when he doesn’t use seasoning as much.

pairing ; hobie brown x hispanic fem!reader (no specific race stated)

note ; i sometimes forget hobie is british but writing this concept was so much fun to do lmao 😭 thank you anon for this request <3 i just hope our boy really doesn’t just season his stuff with salt only because of that.

• — hobie brown !

had a cough attack. this was deadass him the first time he tried your cooking.

now, the only reason you made food for him was because you caught what he was eating the day before. it was the most driest, whitest, piece of chicken you’d ever seen. it was so bad, you could hear pavitr crying his heart out all the way from a different dimension about “european nonsense”.

you remember just staring at the chicken on the plate. no seasoning, only salt. the worst part is, he had just drained it from the pot and you could see the steam coming off it. sits down with his knife and fork. you were just staring in disbelief and you asked him while pointing at his so called dinner, “hobie what is this?”

he looks at you and said, “what? have you never seen chicken before?” you don’t know what that thing was but it definitely was not chicken.

tells you that it’s good and you should try it. GOOD? you nearly lost your mind right then and there when he stabbed it with his fork and just bit into it. you’re convinced he’s a psychopath because even you wouldn’t stoop this low.

no way we’re you gonna have your boyfriend eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner 🙅🏻‍♂️ not when you know you can cook up the best meal he’d ever have in his entire life. you let him eat that dry chicken though because he needed to suffer for saying it was good.

you had told him to come over for dinner and he’s like “finally i’m gonna get to try your cooking” since you always told him how much you love cooking. actually, hobie starts coughing the minute you open the door for him to come in. hobie had taken a deep breath and was gonna say how nice it smelled before el chile hit him unexpectedly.

never smelled this amount of spice before. you had to open the windows to air the apartment out. you’re use to the smell so it’s not like it bothers you. he’s waiting out in the living room, still coughing and now you know he’s probably doing it on purpose.

you wait until the smell has calm down before you tell him the food is ready. pretends he died from hunger because you took too long. you’re surprised he didn’t choke on the dry chicken.

you decided to make him some empanadas de carne molida y de pollo which, unknown to him, was drenched in salsa roja and seasoned to your liking. you’d had the toppings prepared too. red onions, cilantro, lime, tomatoes, and several other things so he could taste it.

“by the way, i made sure not to make it spicy.” you told him that as you both sat down and he trusted you. which he wished he didn’t. you had two empanadas on his plate, one of each and pointed out which one was which and he went to try the chicken one.

first bite he was fine until the spice kicked in and he just looked at you and started having another cough attack like, “🤨 you’re sure this isn’t spicy?” you had to get him some water and he had to wait a little bit before eating again.

you told him to try it with the salsa you’d made. you did a red one and a green one. and according to you, the green one was the one that wasn’t spicy. naturally, he went for la salsa verde only to be met with a burning sensation far worse from the empanadas.

you had to apologize so many times to him but he told you that it was fine especially since you’re just used to the taste and smell. and it’s not like you did it on purpose. “🤨 or did you?”

after his experience, he doesn’t trust you when you say it’s “not even that spicy”.

but trust me, once he’s hooked, he’s hooked. never sees any kind of food the same. and it’s so hard to make him stop coming over whenever it’s dinnertime.

hobie just knows and he’s crawling through your window in his spider suit asking what you made for the two of you to eat. even has tomatillos and chiles verdes in a small plastic bag so you can make a salsa. meanwhile you’re just standing in the kitchen, knowing you only made enough for yourself.

you ended up having to teach him how to season his food. he prefers yours ten times more though so yes, he still shows up for dinner.

im word vomiting my headcanon list and id love to hear what you think!

*hobie gifting things that he finds to his partner like a crow. i can imagine they'd just randomly turn up, either on a desk or like they'll just find it in their bag or pocket, or that he'd just walk of and just hand it to them with no word *hobie fell for his partner hard, though he kept it pretty well hidden from everyone except pav starts calling his 'loverboy', eventually the nickname catches on to the point his future partner starts using it as well(either b/c they like it and thay're oblivious or they know exactly whats going on and are teasing him about it) *loves playful banter *nicknames for daaaaaays with his partner *hobie getting serious with a partner would be him gifting them something important, first thoughts are either a guitar pick of his or one of his favorite rings (its the most worn one he has, a simple metal one that you can literally feel the love thats gone into it. somehow it fits his partners finger perfectly)



i may be back with more, until then i salute you!

i agree with ur hc’s so much!! this is how i hc & tend to write hobie so, 100%! pls don’t hesitate if u think of anymore hehe

i’d love to expand! ~

- giving you gifts, to him, is like the ideal expression of love.

- because basically all of them are stolen, it’s a combination of his favourite things; stealing from big corporations, and seeing the beaming, heart-warming smile on your face when you open your bag and see a tiny trinket wrapped in newspaper.

- everytime you would come home, you’d find a new little addition to the house somewhere – notably: necklaces, rings, tiny ceramic statues or wooden decorations, pens, music (cd’s, vinyls, etc.) – especially if he’s been to camden market that day, his pockets would be full for you.

- when he started to fall for you, he low-key thought he was coming down with the flu.

- whenever you were around, his heart would flutter, his head dizzy and palms sweating – he considered getting medicine, until pavitr pointed something out.

- “how are you, loverboy?”

- “eh? you talking to me, pav?”

- “of course, hobie! little loverboy”

- “did you hit your head, bro?”

- pavitr would explain that he’d noticed hobie’s eyes glued to you whenever you spoke, hanging onto every word like gospel, and the way he flustered when you touched him, how he’d do anything in his power to be in your personal space.

- “shit.”

- “no! this is a good thing, my friend! love is the most bea—”

- “shit.”

- days went past of hobie avoiding you, he’d never been in love before, and it was scary to him

- his brain was only thinking of you, and he hated that he liked it. he hated that he wished for every thought to be of you.

- and he hated that he could see your body deflate when he avoided you, hated that your eyes looked sad when he turned away

- he hated that he liked loving you

- until, you caught him on his own one day, he was minding his business, relaxing on his lonesome whilst the others hung out in different dimensions.

- “hey, loverboy”

- a deer in headlights wouldn’t even come close to the shock on his face

- “loverboy?”

- loverboy? you were calling him loverboy?

- “yeah, loverboy, that’s you, isn’t it?”

- in all fairness, you were completely oblivious to the reason behind it – pav had simply just started calling him it when hobie wasn’t around, and it stuck

- “i-i guess so”

- clearing his throat, he willed his confidence back to the surface

- “you can call me anything you want, sweetheart”

- it wasn’t long before you were together, a gentle, but spontaneous kiss after a particularly dangerous mission one day sealing the deal between you both

- he was obsessed with you

- now he could be obvious about his feelings, he took that and ran with it

- his arm was essentially glued to your side, or over your shoulders, or anywhere where he could pull you in close to him

- he’d grab you by the belt buckles, dragging you towards him and welcoming you with a soft peck on the lips

- even in public, almost especially in public

- always have his hands in your back pockets, he says he hates the cliché-ness of it but he likes that he can hold you close whilst respecting your personal space – and he can feel your ass, but he doesn’t admit that outloud

- THE NICKNAMES.

- THE. NICKNAMES.

- this man is born and bred british, and over here we use nicknames more than actual names

- darling, sweetheart, love, lovely, all of those AND more are natural to him, anyway

- but he adds a special little “my” before them all now, now that you actually are his, and so “my darling”, “my love”, etc. are like a second name to you

- in bed, the nicknames would be even better, but i’ll leave that to your imagination…

- when things started getting a little serious, you’d been dating for months, all your friends and colleagues knew about him, your family as well (if you decide to tell them)

- you’re relaxing in hobie’s dimension, laying on his bed with your head on his shoulder, reading a book whilst he strums at his guitar softly. he’s humming a song you don’t recognise, but the sound of his deep melody was enough to lull you.

- “hey, love?”

- you hum in response

- “i wanna give you something.”

- sitting you up, he’d lay his guitar down and face you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to him

- “what are you—”

- he’d fiddle with his own hands for a second, before twisting his favourite ring off his index finger

- “here.”

- “hobie, are you—”

- “i’m not proposing, don’t worry. weddings are just a social nuisance that give us one more way to control each other. no. this is better.”

- you tilt your head and watch him, as he slides his ring onto your middle finger

- “it’s just a promise.”

- “a promise?”

- “a promise that i love you, and that i’m yours, innit.”

- “oh, hobie.”

- you cry a tiny bit

- and he hugs you tightly, kissing your forehead

- that’s when he knew it was serious with you, not only because of how he was so obsessed with you, and his heart melted at your touch, but because when he saw you with the ring on, his ring, his person, it just felt right. he didn’t ever wanna see you without it, or without him.

- “hey, hobie, did you mean what you said about marriage? you don’t wanna marry me one day?”

- “hey, i said i hate weddings. nothing about marriage. not if we do it our own way, you know?”

i love him so much. also pls stick around, couple of one shots & fics will be out this week!!! sorry they’re taking ages hehe

Early Mornings

A look into what life is like in the early mornings with your bf ☀️

Ft: Hobie, written with blackfem!reader in mind (though no specific pronouns are used)

Fluff, SFW, 1k words (y’all said y’all wanted more Hobie? Bettt)

You couldn’t help but wince somewhat when you blearily blinked open your eyes and felt the early morning sun hit them.

You let out a small groan as you tucked your head back into your pillow, hoping to regain some semblance of exhaustion that would help you return to the land of the asleep. When you were met with none, you reached out and grabbed your phone, the mattress below you creaking somewhat at the movement.

8:15 AM. For a Tuesday it could’ve been worse. You set your device back on the nightstand and sat up, rubbing gently at your eyes. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, deciding you might as well try to get the day started with.

You spared a glance at the sleeping figure next to you and, sure enough, he was still dead asleep. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched the slow rise and fall of his chest. Hobie was practically dead to the world in the mornings, having made his dislike of any time ending with AM clear multiple times.

You weren’t better off in that case either, but you both needed to eat and, seeing as your lovely boyfriend wasn’t about to be of any help, you made the executive decision to rise and make your way to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

One shower and brushing of your teeth later saw you dragging your feet into the kitchen. Sunlight bled through the blinds you had yet to open and cast the room in a heavenly golden hue. You hooked your phone up to the speakers in the living room, putting on some easy R&B before you started rummaging through the pantries.

The music floated throughout the apartment as the smell of pancakes and bacon wafted throughout the kitchen. Even in your still tired state you barely made out the sound of water running down the hall. You glanced at the clock on the stove and let out an impressed hum—Hobie had managed to drag himself out of bed before 9 AM. Now the real question was would he be able to stay out of bed?

Your answer came soon enough, in the form of a pair of long arms wrapping lazily around your waist. Your lips tugged upwards as Hobie held you close, resting his head on your shoulder.

“Hey,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your neck before moving his head to sit atop yours.

“Hey,” you replied softly, relishing in the warmth of his embrace, the familiar scent of the body wash he adored encasing you in a way that made you let out a loving sigh.

“Fuckin’ watch was buzzing. Ain’t even ten yet,” Hobie noted, one of his hands rubbing a soft pattern on your waist. You nodded, turning off one of the eyes and removing the bacon away from the heat.

“Let it buzz. Miguel will find someone else to bother,” you said simply, flipping the last batch of pancakes. Above you, Hobie let out a content hum, tugging you even closer to him.

“You’re right. ‘Sides, it’d be rude to skip out on a breakfast this good,” he added, one of his hands coming up to cup your jaw gently. He turned your head so you were facing him, and tipped his head downwards to press a kiss to your lips. You relaxed even further into his hold while his other hand gave your hip a loving squeeze. He pulled away far too soon, eyes lidded with sleep and love as he gazed at you. “Thanks for cooking, by the way.”

“Of course,” was your soft reply as Hobie pulled away, moving to grab you both some plates. You turned the stove off and stacked the pancakes and some of the bacon on a plate he handed you. Next you made his, and Hobie murmured a quiet ‘thanks.’

You both decided to enjoy breakfast on the couch, basking in each other’s presence as you talked about every nonsensical thing that came to mind. You loved mornings like this—the mornings where life was confined to the walls of your apartment. Confined to the brush of Hobie’s hand against your thigh as he tapped out a random rhythm, to the weight of his shoulder against yours as you leaned into each other, or the melodious laughter that spilled from the both of you when he (unsuccessfully) tried to nick a piece of bacon from your plate.

Once the two of you were done, Hobie took your plates to the sink as you stood from the couch, stretching your arms upwards. Considering neither of you had planned to be up so early, you let yourself be guided back to bed by Hobie’s gentle grip.

He let out a small huff as he planted himself on top of the mattress, a hand coming up to rub at his eyes while you laid down beside him. His dark sweats hung low around his waist while his already cropped tank (which was probably yours considering how small it looked on him) rose up further around his abdomen. He rested an arm behind his head and you took a brief moment to admire him before scooting closer and bringing your head down onto his chest. Hobie instinctively wrapped his free arm around you, his fingers dragging up and down your shoulder in a soothing motion.

All was quiet between you two other than your playlist and the soft exhales of each breath. That was until the watch on Hobie’s side of the bed buzzed unceremoniously.

You couldn’t help but giggle softly as Hobie muttered a curse under his breath. He made no move to get up, though. Rather, he simply pulled you closer to him. You toyed with a fray at the end of his shirt, rolling your eyes when your own watch buzzed soon after.

“Oughta throw those damn things out the window,” he grumbled. As much as you liked that idea, you liked being able to see your friends and him whenever you pleased even more so you shook your head.

“Leave it. Miguel and them will be just fine.”

Hobie mumbled his agreement and grew quiet. Barely a minute later he had drifted off back to sleep, his hand coming to a stop on your arm. You smiled to yourself, letting your arm wrap around his waist as you snuggled closer to him.

You let your eyes fall shut, the warmth of the morning sun and the man beside you lulling you to sleep.

★ thinking about hobie brown’s slow-but-sure tactics to get you to turn full rebel.

thinking about how hobie will invite you to his piercing and tattoo appointments, to both gauge your reaction to a potentially new look (he’s always gassed after a new piece of jewelry or tattoo design) and nudge you to get one with him. he’ll try and coerce you with the promise of you looking stunning and sweet sentences like “it’d suit you perfect, yeah?” he’s only managed to convince you once, and that was when the two of you got matching nose rings. he’ll even do you the honor of buying a tattoo or piercing kit and doing it himself, if that makes you more comfortable.

thinking about dancing subtly with him anywhere and everywhere he happens to hear music, him telling you there wasn’t a good reason to be embarrassed about it because society looking at you like an idiot means nothing to him and it shouldn’t mean anything to you, either - in his apartment from a stereo, at a concert with deafening riffs and heart-pounding melodies, even in a convience store, when one of his favorites just so happens to trickle through the speakers.

thinking about how hobie brown is a rule-breaker, and will not subject himself to a boring meeting with miguel o’hara and his fellow spiders if he simply don’t feel like it. how he’ll take you by the hand or hook your arm with his or sprawl his lanky body over your shoulders and drag you away with a loud “yeah, we’re out. fun while it lasted,” to find something that will better suit his spontaneous whims.

thinking about his raw impudence and how, for better or for worse, he’s rubbed off on you. how he won’t hold back his snickering when he hears you quip back at miguel, the others standing speechless in a room of stunned silence, save for your boyfriend’s giggling. hobie relishes in the confused twitch of the older spider’s thick brow, flattened in a ‘what the hell did you just say to me?’ fashion. you and o’hara (who refuses to lose a verbal battle to someone who doesn’t know half the things he does) sass each other pretty another often after that, though the spiderman, knowing, curses hobie for corrupting you and molding you into another headache.

thinking about the goosebumps he gives you when he lifts you up or grabs you from behind, the wicked laughter that follows after you slap his arm and tell him that scared you! he tells you, “nah, you gotta live a little, sweets. ain’t you just lucky to have me, mmh? i’m gettin’ you to live. break you outta that shell, you little scaredy-cat.”

thinking about hobie brown, and how he only wants to see you happy and thriving.

I have a hc that if you came out to Hobie, he would (in the most loving way possible) not care. He wouldn't make a big deal, he would be the kind of guy to just say, "Alright, cool," and go about his day.

i cant believe i havent said it already but: happy pride month!! it’s almost ended, but infinite love to all!!!

hobie x lgbtq+!reader (not specified)

written as romantic, but can be read as platonic if you have a very open mind lmfaoo – vague so could be coming out as anything!

“…and i didn’t know how to tell you.”

hobie’s face was incredibly hard to read. although he never hid his feelings, most of his emotions always merged into the same, nonchalant expression. you’d learnt to know the subtle tells and quirks that distinguish them overtime, but now that your heart is pounding against your chest and your brain is blurred by nerves, it was impossible. you just came out to him, and he looks like he truly couldn’t care less.

“a’right, calm,” he nodded slightly, before leaning back against the kitchen counter and grabbing at the takeaway menu that resided there, “what should we order tonight? i’m feelin’ chinese food.”

“h-hobie, i–” your cheeks were red hot, wrists anxiously ringing themselves raw, “a-are you okay? are we okay?”

his expressions changed then, brow furrowing and eyes flashing with concern, “‘course we’re okay, love, are you mad?”

“no, i just–” you sighed, shakily, “just confused, i just came out and you…don’t care?”

“does it change anything?” he relaxed again, discarding the menu and folding his arms over his chest comfortably.

“not a lot, not really,” you shrugged, willing your cheeks to drain of heat, “m-maybe a little–”

“anythin’ about us?”

“no.” you shook your head, and he smiled, only lightly, but enough to settle your booming heartbeat.

“‘n’ are you happy?”

you nodded.

extending his arms, he tugs you by the belt buckles, nudging you towards him and though you stumble slightly, it doesn’t take much for you to melt into his warmth.

placing a kiss to your forehead, he mutters, “then it’s all peachy, innit?”

a humble nod again, and you bury your face into his chest to hide your beaming smile, relief washing out every nervous element.

“now, the important question; we gettin’ pizza or chinese?”

hii, i saw you wrote for Hobie and i’m like bouncing off the walls rn, he’s so cool and there’s little to no fics or hcs for him :(

if you can, could you write some relationship hcs? (gn or male reader preferred!) i need more writing of this man 😭

if not that is totally okay!! ^^

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐇𝐂𝐒

[safe for work relationship headcanons]

records fluff. scene in atsv mentioned. his comics are mentioned. idk, it's cute. pairings hobie brown / gn!reader

comments sorry this took so long lmao.

THE ANARCHIST SPIDER-MAN known as 'spider-punk'

being in a relationship with him is like a rollercoastar ride. its never boring, especially if your a spider-person or have superpowers.

this man would take you everywhere.

miguel doesn't want other people involved? oh the hell well, his partner is tagging along.

he's actually so goofy around you, and then acts super cool when your around other people, seeing the switch in person is hilarious.

and while he's so goofy, he might do something illegal, prepare yourself.

everytime he's in nueva york he'd steal something. once he stole couple of things from the base and made a homemade dimension bracelet thingy, so he could bring you along.

it also scared the shit out of you when he first grabbed you and just swung into another dimension.

"its a metaphor for capitalism" lines like that randomly get thrown out all the time and it makes you laugh every single time.

i think he'd be pretty touchy, except in public. he gotta keep up that image y'know.

he'd give you, your mini concert sometimes.

although, he probably wouldn't let you touch his guitar, at all.

speaking of his guitar, it makes you nervous everytime he plays it, because he's so impulsive. why does it make you nervous? because the thing can emit sound waves strong enough to break a fucking wall. (😭)

he just randomly does that shit. like in pavitr's world when he destroyed the barrier at alchimex.

impulsive

despite being impulsive, he's not dumb. he's actually a genius, and everytime he has these super genius moments it baffles you sometimes because your used to him being so damn goofy and SPIDERPUNK!!!🤟🏾

at every chance, he's causing chaos when it comes to power figures. especially when it comes down to president norman osborn in his world. cha-o-ticcc! (let's not even talk about the time with miles and miguel 😒)

when he's alone with you, he is a lot calmer though. like, he goes from 100 to like 50 when he's around you.

he likes spooning, preferably with you being the big spoon.

don't touch his jacket either.

if you have super fluffy hair he's mostlikely gonna play with it when its just the two of you. he always asks first though! he asks for a lot of things. (consent king🫡)

if you asked him to teach you how to play guitar, he would. and if you already knew how to play guitar or another instrument, you'd play together sometimes.

honestly, anything he does you tend to admire. (he teases you about it a lot lol)

sometimes, sometimes, he'll let you play in his hair. honestly, its relaxing for him, to feel your hands in his hair. bonus if your washing his hair. that's the most relaxed you'll ever get him to be, minus sleeping. even then, he probably yells in his sleep or smth.

he's actually the best boyfriend btw.

like, he's nor selfish. he's not that type of person, so he always tries to look out for your best interests while looking out for his.

he's actually so sweet &lt;3

also, if he leaves and he catches you wearing his jacket or pretending to be him in it, he is never. never. letting you live it down.

"didn't know you admire me so much, love." "what, gonna steal my jacket again and wear it to sleep?" "oh, don't get embarrassed now! you were the one snugglin' up in my jacket."

he strikes me as a person to either smell so fucking nice, like that perfect colone or he'd stink. there's no in between. like, the stink doesn't even have to be like 'garbage' stink. it could be like, 'super strong axe body wash' stink.

who the fuck knows. his hair is always going to smell good, though. he takes care of that bitch. (y'all saw that bitch in the theatre??? gorgeous)

he'd also be the boyfriend to give you home piercings or tattoos. and if you don't want him to do it, he's perfectly fine with that.

you two mostlikely have a matching tattoo though. he'd also, sit there a d comfort you while your getting pierced or tatted.

seriously, he's the best.

comments couldn't think of anything else at the moment. i might edit it, but here you go!

Boyfriend!Hobie Brown Heacanons - Hobie Brown x GN!reader

I am not normal about Hobie Brown and I don't plan on stopping

Before we begin!! I feel like Hobie would be really slow and hesitant on letting his partner know he's Spider-man (considering he wasn't willing to tell Miles).

So I imagine he'd try to juggle it with the band and all the political action he does. He just wants to keep you safe, but when it comes up he usually brushes off why he up and disappears sometimes. But if directly confronted, he's not gonna lie cause he feels like that's shitty. If asked why he's gone, he'd come out and say it, but try to soften the blow best he can.

(With that out of my system)

Okay first things first Hobie is the most SUPPORTIVE bf ever

No matter what he's always in your corner

Hobie believes in his partner a lot, and that means he'll always back you - even if he's the only person to have your back

And he knows you can handle your own, but if anyone has anything to say about it they can deal with him

(RIP to anyone who tries to talk down to you or insult you cause he finna roast they asses no filter)

He's an incredibly good listener. Like crazy good

Hobie's able to bring up things you don't even remember telling him, things said in passing that yoy may not think is important, but he still picks up on

Which is why he's really good to vent to. He may not have a lot of words of comfort, but is has a shoulder to cry on, and if you're angry, he's always there to validate that. Plus no matter what you're going through, he'll always encourage you to get through it, and keep your head up

Hobies also a low-key romantic (in his own way).

If you think Pavi is a great boyfriend then wait to you get with Hobie

If you're like most people, Hobie is most likely taller than you.

He's a lot touchier than you'd think, in his own way. Leaning on you, hanging off of you, arm over your shoulder, or crossing his legs over yours.

Hobie is a man of much slang and many nicknames (and part of the reason people playfully call Pav 'Big Steppa')

He'd call you nicknames more than your actual name - 'love',' 'darling', 'bird' the like, along with some few custom ones

Most of his date ideas involve breaking the law in some way and bashing the occassional facist together

Hobie is actually incredibly smart, both street wise and science wise, so I imagine he's pretty well read. I could see him really enjoying the some anarchist literature with his partner, and then discussing it with them

Protests are his favorite kind of date, followed by concerts, and picnics in abandoned buildings

(or, after he meets Miles, going out to graffiti)

he lets you wear his vest and even helps you make your own

He may not be as verbally affectionate or into PDA as Pavi is, but he still makes it clear that he trusts you and cares about what you have to say

He may not say 'I love you' in front of people, but he'll pull you onto his lap, or ask if you're okay, and give you slang-covered compliments all the time

Being Spider-man is actually a lot more stressful than Hobie lets on

And like most Spider-men, he looks to his other half as support, emotionally

being an international rockstar and anti-facist icon comes with big images, but when he and his partner are alone, he feels a lot more relaxed and a lot less pressured.

Hobie's been Spider-man for 3 years, meanwhile Pavi and Gwen are both in their first months of joining the spider-society. Because of that, he kinda feels responsible for them

He's been putting up with the Spider-Society's shit for years (hence why Miguel is so done with him)

There's definitely times he's come home to his dimension cursing and fuming

Any type of injustice or power inbalance really pisses him off, and sometimes if its really bad he can't stop thinking about it

Especially growing up in a totalitarian universe

He leans on his partner to remind him that there are still good people out there fighting for what's right

Hobie has already gone through most of his canon events, and he carries that with him, though he won't say it

From his reaction in atsv, he doesn't talk about it a lot, and tries is best to brush it off but sometimes, it just can't be ignored

his partner would probably be the only person he brings it up to and it just makes him more pissed with the spider-society

When he's relaxed though Hobie may be more quiet in private, strumming his guitar as his listens to you, or kicking back while the two of you shoot the shit

Pavi's energy hypes him up a lot though, so you two hit up Mumbattan a lot

Or he loves bringing his partner to band practice and mic checks. And he always calls them out in the crowd if he's on the mic

Last sweet stuff okay

If he's gone he'll give his partner one of his bracelets. He'll just be like 'oi, hold this.' then leave chill as hell

Gwen, Pavi, and Miles are all really supportive of you two, even if they have a thousand questions in the beginning (all of which he dodges or plays off)

He's not one to get jealous at all. But he will join a conversation and casually mention the rockstar-model thing. Just to assert dominance. A subtle flex

He keeps asking you to give him a stick & poke somewhere because he thinks it's a cute idea

He likes doing that thing where he sits behind you while he teaches you guitar

He loves having you sleep over, and you can crash in his dimension any time

Especially after he meets Gwen. His fave thing to do is to just play while he listens to the two of you talk for hours

Hobie is a really heavy sleeper but somehow gets up exactly when he needs to be or right before shit starts going down - otherwise he sleeps till 1pm everyday

If theres anything Hobie is, its loyal and supportive, and he wants nothing more than for you to be safe, and free, and happy

(even if most of his advice is throwing a brick at someone)

He is always pushing you to do better, to speak up for yourself or trust yourself because he knows how much you're capable of

And finally he knows your favorite song by heart to the point that if hes zoning out or missing you, he'll strum it on the guitar without even realizing

(okay bye lemme know what you thought thanks for reading loves also I am not okay i am obsessed with him )

How They Tell Their S/O They're Spider-Man (& Spider-Gwen) - Spider-Crew x GN!Reader Headcanons

Miles - The king of acting like he isn't a nervous wreck. Honestly, it takes Miles months before he finally has the courage to come out and say it. He'd ask Gwen and the others over and over for advice. He prepares a big speech, invites you out so the two of you are alone. And though he has it planned out, he acts nervous the whole date and it's pretty obvious something is up.

Miles can barely remember his speech, but he tells you about how much he cares about you, and how he's been struggling keeping something from you. Eventually, after fighting himself a bit, he tells you he's Spider-man, unzipping his suit to show you the suit under it.

After telling you, he's ten times more relieved. He's just happy he has someone who he can actually talk to about it (besides Genke), and he says up all night telling you about the cool things he's seen. He'd enjoy calling you while on patrol, when he's handling a 'villain-of-the-week'.

Though his biggest hope is that it doesn't change the way you see him, because he's still Miles first, Spider-man second.

Gwen - Gwen really struggles with this. She'd fight the hardest to keep it under wraps, coming up with white lies to keep the peace. It kills her inside, and makes her paranoid knowing that one day she might slip up. But she tries to play it cool, and shrugs it off if anything comes up.

But being confronted is a lot for her to take. The thing Gwen fears the most is hurting the people she loves. If confronted, Gwen would deny it at first, get defensive, then eventually just break down and admit it.

There may be tears, but she's just so done hiding everything from you. She'd hold you, and tell you she's really sorry for lying and hiding everything. The guilt gets to her the most. But afterwards, she's just happy that she can finally show her whole self to you. no more secrets.

She's much happier having someone she can go home to. And even though she doesn't talk about the stress a lot, having a shoulder to lean on really helps her.

Pavitr - If we're being honest, Pavi makes little to no attempt to hide it to begin with. Why? Because being Spider-man is fun, it's the best! Why wouldn't he want to share that with the person closest to him?

It only takes a couple weeks, maybe a month or two before he can't take it anymore and just blurts it out to you. He's nervous, but excited, more hyper than usual. And unlike Miles, he can't beat around the bush. He just says it. One second you're hanging out with your bf, another second he's telling you he's Spider-man, and hanging from the ceiling.

Pavi really likes to show off. He wants to share with you all the cool things he sees and does, and hiding things from his partner for long doesn't sit right with him. He wants to feel close to you, and he can't do that when he's hiding stuff.

Right after he wants to take you web-swinging, or show you all his cool stunts, but he understands if you need a little time. He kinda tells you with little warning.

Hobie - Hobie leaves it up to you. He trusts you and he knows you're smart. That's why he's with you. He knows that eventually, you'll know something is off. So he just lets you piece it all together.

He'll leave parts for his web-shooters around, he won't hide his bruises, or clean the occasional blood off his boots. He may catch something a bit faster than a normal person would, or seem to 'sense' something before anyone else.

He's strong in his morals, and he isn't going to lie to you or try to hide it from you. If he's going out, he'll text you and tell you. And if you ask where he is, you'll get a sarcastic answer. He's not hiding it, he just isn't saying it.

If you decide to not bring it up, fine - it's squashed. If you do come out and ask him, he'll tell you the truth. He'll give you his mask. But he'll also play it off. He doesn't want it to be a big deal, because being Spider-man isn't something he does for fun. Or fame. He does it because his dimension is shit, people are suffering, and someone has to do something.

Really, he hopes it doesn't change anything between the two of you, that he can just be his (super-powered) self, and you'll love him for all the other cool shit he's got going on.

____________________________________________

Thanks for reading :) Let me know what you think loves bye

1312 ACAB - [2/4] - Hobie Brown x Punk!Reader

Chapter 2/4: Hobie takes you on an anarchists’ first date. [FLUFF] [chap-1]

words: 3.8k

scenario: when you're cornered by cops after a protest, you find a familiar face in an unlikely place - in the form of one Hobie Brown.

tw: no trigger warnings needs for this chapter

The full series will contain descriptions of facism, as well as depictions of police brutality, violence, and a healthy amount of cop-bashing.

_______________________________________________

Hobie's heavy boots echoed on the floor, and as you followed him into the darkness, the metal door closed itself behind you with a heavy and metallic 'thunk'. It seemed like you wouldn't be making it back home anytime soon.

But at the very least, there was 'something in it' for you. 

Hobie’s words, not yours.

"Alright. So what is it then?" you asked, following the sound of him and his boots. "Or was that just some excuse so you can murder me like some 'Hellraiser' freak?" 

Beside you Hobie chuckled, and in the dark you realize he's standing a bit closer than you’d thought, leading the two of you down a narrow hallway.

"You're an impatient one, aren't you?" he asked.

"I'm pretty sure you're just stalling." 

"No, I'm not." Hobie said. "..Is it working?"

"No, it isn't."

"Shame." 

The timbre of Hobie's voice so close at your side raises goosebumps along your arms. "Just trust me, yeah?" Hobie asks, leading you forward in the darkness to who knows where.

Within steps you fumbled, your spiked combat boots snagging on something in the dark. You recovered quickly, albeit cursing under your breath. 

And in the dark, you couldn't see the moment when Hobie reached out to take your hand. His fingers grazing yours and on instinct you jumped, only barely, at the unanticipated touch.

"Relax," Hobie said, beside you. "I only bite when asked, if you know what I mean."

And after a moment, his voice came from the darkness, just a touch softer. "Can I?"

It took you a moment to register that this time, he was asking for permission. For a second, it stunned you into hesitation and now, your heart seemed to be picking up the pace for an entirely different reason.

Was he actually flirting? Or once again being painstakingly cryptic?

"You're asking whether you can hold my hand? We in primary?" You asked, just to take the piss out of him, before you slipped your hand in his, lacing your fingers together. "What? You gonna ask me for a play date next?"

Hobie's hand was warmer and larger than yours, and even in  the darkness, you could practically hear the amusement in his voice next time he. "Depends," he said, and finally the two of you stopped walking. 

"Would you rather the play, or the date?"

Even in the dark, the words felt electric. He was absolutely flirting, and without meaning to, your grip on his hand tightened.

The end of the hall was quiet - no other footsteps, no loud, bassy music, no chatter from anywhere else. Wherever he was taking you, you figured it'd be just the two of you. You didn't know if the feeling in your chest was nerves or excitement.

Beside you, Hobie fetched something from his pocket, and you could hear the soft jingle of what could only be keys. You could hear him unlock something, a heavy padlock opening a door with a metallic 'pang'.

Hobie opened the door, stepping inside as he flipped on the lights. "Welcome to my 'Hellraiser' lair." he chaffed. "Make yourself at home."

Your eyes needed a second to adjust to the assault of florescent light. You blinked, rubbing your eyes with a groan, and when you opened them you found yourself even more confused than you'd been in the hall.

This wasn’t exactly what you were expecting.

"Hobie," you said. "This is a kebab shop."

"Right you are." Hobie congratulated you, offering no further explanation as he collapsed into a chair of the shoody, wooden tables pushed in the corner. Hobie made himself comfortable, kicking his long legs onto the table and tilting back as his eyes slipped closed. 

He had turned on only the kitchen lights, leaving the lights in the storefront off - a simple but necessary precaution. You leaned against the white tiled wall, and as he rocked back and forth, you watched the shadows dance along his face.

As he stretched, Hobie could feel your eyes on him. Almost like a sixth sense. But then again - what was the fun in letting you know that? 

If anything, he enjoyed the undivided attention.

Finally, you asked "Care to explain why you have the keys to a kebab shop in Hackney? Not that I'm complaining." 

How could you? A part of you found it hard to relax when a place so quiet and safe was so rare in London these days. And yet across from you, Hobie seemed completely at ease as he slowly rocked back and forth. As if there was nothing at all to worry about. It soothed your nerves if only a little.

By the looks of it, the shop wasn't all that fancy. It was far from abandoned - and well taken care of. If anything, it looked exactly like every other kebab and burger shop in London - even down to the yellowing, glowing menu above the counter.

You sat down across from Hobie, dropping your worn and patch-covered rucksack to your feet. Resting your elbows on the table, you watched him tilt back and forth, his balance seemingly perfect.

"I'm guessing you knicked them off someone?"

Hobie peeked open one eye, raising a finger at you. "Oi," he said, pausing his rocking for a moment. "Not a thief, love. I only steal from the state."

"As you should." you said. And at your words, a smirk spread across Hobie's lips. He closed his eyes again.

"Gottem off my mate. His parents own the place - blokes apart of this circle I run with, yeah?" he said, and the more relaxed he got, the thicker his accent became. "We've got an arrangement in order. 'Lets me crash here when I'm out after curfew, leaves me food." he said.

"And in return?" you asked, and a part of you could almost anticipate his answer.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

At this point, you couldn't help but laugh. 

Hobie opened his eyes, and his smirk only grew as he watched you. It was rare that he had good company on nights like this.

"You're cryptic," You told him. "- but at the very least you're consistent." Finally, Hobie stopped rocking. And you watched him as he lazily leaned on the table, propping himself on his elbows to mirror you. 

"Nah, don't say that, love. I don't believe in consistency." he said, and now you were even closer than before.

You raised an eyebrow at him, fighting back your laughter. "Is that right?" you asked. 

And proudly, Hobie told you "It is." 

It was another chance for you to challenge him, for no reason other than sharing the spirit of rebellion. Hobie always spoke like this, like every word was another chance for anarchy and incitement. And this time, you took it.

"Alright, fine. Be inconsistent. Answer one of my questions straight then." you challenged, and across from you, Hobie shrugged - but he couldn't help but smile. He always loved a challenge.

"On one condition though." Hobie said. "I get to ask you one back."

You raised your eyebrows, sitting back in your seat to consider it. Hobie mirrored you again, and as he stretched his long legs out under the table, they intertwined with yours.

You couldn't imagine what he'd want to ask you, or anything he’d want to know. If anything, you could hardly think with him sitting across for you, looking at you that way.

"You want to ask me something?" you asked, and lazily, Hobie nodded. "Hm, crack on then."

Hobie chuckled, and he sat forward once more. His legs were still laced with yours, and you didn't pull away even as his dark eyes studied your face.

"Right." Hobie said. "What are you having?" 

You had no idea what that meant. 

For a moment, you blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?" You asked, and Hobie chuckled, shoulders shaking with the sound. With how close he was leaned in, your goosebumps returned. 

Hobie pointed down at the table, and it took you a second to realize what he was pointing at: a worn halal menu between the two of you.

"What's your order?"

It was 4 am. You were sitting with Hobie in a darkened kebab shop, alone in the middle of Hackney. And at his question, you could only ask "Are you joking?"

"No." he said, and lazily he stood.

"Why?" you asked hesitantly, turning in your chair to watch as Hobie stretched. And then he strolled behind the counter, as if he worked there.

"'Cause." he said, and he answered your question with one of his own. "When was the last time you've eaten?"

The question gave you pause.

It had merit - The protests earlier had started at noon, and went on late into the night. It was 4 now, and it occurred to you that you'd been marching and shouting for nearly 16 or 17 hours straight. And you hadn't eaten.

But he'd thought of that, of course.

"Exactly." Hobie said, and before you hadn't noticed that he'd snagged one of the toothpicks from the table. He chewed on the end idly, leaning his hands on the counter and now he was watching you, eyes lidded and smirk amused. “Figured you’d gone to the protest.”

"Wow," you scoffed, even as a smile came to your face, and for a moment, you didn't know what to say. "Who knew the bloke who punches nazis for sport could be such a gentleman." you said, and Hobie chuckled, leaning over the counter.

"Told you. Don't believe in consistency."

You stood, joining him across the counter. The longer you were around him, the more he surprised you. And the more you spoke to him, the less he seemed like the grandiose rockstar you'd seen at the pub, getting plastered on free drinks after the shows. 

"You saved my arse from the pigs, gave me a place to crash, and now you're wanting to cooking me dinner?" you asked. "Hobie, I'd feel like shite making you do that." 

Hobie toyed with the toothpick at his lips, shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing. As if you'd been mates forever, even if it had just been tonight.

"I'm sure there's a lot of things you could make me do - if you ask nice." Hobie winked, and with how close he was, you swore he could hear your heart race. The two of you kept closing the gap more and more, and you wondered what it'd feel like if there wasn't one at all.

Hobie went on. "Besides, Curfew ends at 5:30. My mate leaves me leftovers. Got to eat myself, too." he shrugged. "And I like cooking."

The fact seemed to surprised you, if only a little. And from your reaction, Hobie snickered. "What? I only punch nazis part-time." 

You shoved his shoulder, a grin coming to your face. And Hobie watched you, as if pleased he could make you laugh. "If that's the case.” you said, and a part of you believed he wouldn't do it. “I could kill for some lamb over rice right now." 

But to your surprise, he did. Hobie nodded, pushing off the counter as he headed to the kitchen, and as he walked backwards, he waved you to follow. 

At the look on your face, he said "How else was I suppose to get you out to dinner, you know what I mean?"

He clicked on nearly every appliance as he passed, the kitchen coming alive around you. Hobie clicked on the fryer, the grill, and then the stove. Setting a pot of water on the burner, Hobie heading to the fridge, leading you along with him.

And at his words, you scoffed, crossing your arms. "Are you telling me I just got pulled into a date?" you asked, as Hobie pulled open the fridge doors.

"Sauve, innit?" he chuckled.

"Well, don't say that. Your groupies would bloody draw and quarter me." You said, leaning against one of the shiny metal counters beside him. "They'd literally rip me limb from limb."

Hobie peeked his head from around the fridge door, the look on his face clearly amused. "Groupies?" he questioned, eyeing you sceptically. "You seriously think I have groupies? Come off it, man."

Your jaw nearly dropped in shock, and now you fought off the urge to laugh. "You're asking me if you have groupies?" you said in disbelief. 

"Hobie, You're 2 meters tall and the guitarist in the biggest punk band in East End, and you’re asking me if you have groupies? Of course you have bloody groupies."

"Bullocks." he said, shaking his head as he set the leftover lamb on the counter beside you. And clearly, he was enjoying himself. 

Hobie leaned forward, bringing a hand to either side of your hips and he simply told you ."You're bullshiting." Now he had you all but pinned, somehow not even touching you at all. And up this close, he could see the tiny 'ACAB' pin on the lapel of your vest.

The both of you knew this was a challenge for him -  a challenge for you to prove him wrong, for you to slip up and touch him.

For a second you'd forgotten the topic, watching as he watched you. Sometimes you forgot how tall he was compared to you.

"Are you joking?" you said. "For fucks sake, Hobie. ‘Should've seen them after you got your arse thrown out." And he was so close that you didn't need to speak up much at all. "The lot of them nearly soaked through their knickers."

"And you?"

The question had caught you so off guard that for a moment you were stunned into silence, every nerve in your body feeling electric. 

And before you could recover, Hobie leaned closer, his voice at your ear. "Been told I have that effect."

The water on the stove boiled over, the lid chattering loudly against the steaming pot. 

The sound was enough to startle you out of your trance, and you jumped, the motion enough for your hand to land on Hobie's.

Hobie chuckled, and he let the touch linger before he turned away to attend to the pot.

As he pulled away, you realized you'd been holding your breath.

"You know," you said. "You're the reason guitarists have the reputation they do." And even now, you couldn't shake the feeling. 

Snickering, Hobie said "I don't pay attention to the groupies." And you followed, watching as Hobie set the rice to boil, putting the lamb on the grill before starting a set of fries in the fryer. 

"But you pay attention to randoms you meet in alleyways?" you asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I pay attention to people who need help."

Hobie's answer hadn't been one you were expecting. Beside you, Hobie continued, idly reheating the lamb with a spatula. "That's what you're suppose to do, yeah? You know, what else was I to do? Look the other way, and just let those fucking pigs beat you senseless?" he said, and his voice didn't sound so amused anymore. "I couldn't just leave you out there."

And now you were beginning to understand why he'd done all of this, any of this. Saving you, helping you, feeding you. Simply because he'd wanted to help. Simply because you'd needed help and he was there.

"I never got to thank you, by the way." you said. 

"You don't have to." Hobie told you. And he sounded serious. "What I'm doing - it's normal. Everything else out there isn't, you know. It's not fucking normal to be afraid of walking home at night. It's not normal to fucking die for saying you hate that bastard of a PM. Besides," he said. "You'd do the same for me." 

And even though you had technically met tonight, he trusted you. He'd been your ally from the start, because you’d needed one. 

"Still." you said. "Thanks, Hobie. For reminding me that at the very least, there's still people willing to fight."

Hobie looked at you. He didn’t say it, but it was the same feeling for him. 

He couldn’t say it, but people like you were the reason he fought, they were the reason he woke up and put on the mask every day. You reminded him why he did it - for the people he didn't have superpowers, but fought anyway.

"And I'll be fighting every fucking day until it's over." Hobie assured you. And he wouldn't rest until then. 

"Fight's never over, innit?" you asked, and Hobie smiled, your first words to him echoing in his head. "We'll win." you told him. "And I'll still be fighting until my last bloody day on this Earth." 

And that at the very least brought a smile to your triumphant face, no matter all the wear-and-tear you'd taken at the protest. "Never let the bastards rest again. We can't ever stop being punk - until the day we die." you said and you held out your pinky to Hobie. "Deal?" 

For a moment Hobie paused, watching you before a smile spread across his face. And he hooked his pinky in yours.

"Deal." he told you. And the way he looked at you was softer than before. "Until the day we die." And maybe he was going to hold you to that.

"Christ," you snickered. "First you trick me into dinner and now we sound like we're saying vows." you said.

Hobie pulled away, going to fetch the chips before plating all the food, and you watched, your stomach rumbling at only the smell.

Hobie winked at you, drenching the takeout box with white sauce before pushing it your way.

"Don't tell the groupies." 

___

The clock on the tiled wall read 5:04am. Soon, the sun would be rising and the curfew would be over. Soon the city would wake up, you'd have to go home, back to your shitty flat to get ready for your shitty job.

Your body still ached from the protest, from the running and the stress. The sting in your eyes was dull, but still there. 

But for now, you didn't have to think about that. For the next thirty minutes, all you had to think about was him.

You and Hobie sat on the floor of the kebab shop, backs pressed to the front counter. And the two of you ate, watching the sun rise over London through the glass storefront.

It was the safest you'd felt in a long time.

You'd been a lot hungrier than you'd thought, more exhausted too, and you lazily spooned at the lamb over rice as beside you, Hobie finished his chips. 

The fatigue weighed heavy on you, and you were so tired that you'd nearly missed Hobie's words.

They were soft, softer than you'd heard him speak before, and it surprised you coming from the bloke who screamed lyrics on stage until his throat was raw. 

Quietly he’d asked "You ever get tired of fighting?"

You chuckled without meaning to. And with a shake of your head and a sigh, you said "All the bloody time." 

And Hobie chuckled right along with you.

Because even if you didn’t know it, he had been there at that protest. He had seen what had happened. Except he hadn't, Spider-man had. And Spider-man had fought, because Spider-man never got tired.

But Hobie did. He got tired of it all the time. He was tired of all the suffering, and all the brutality. All the death. "Yeah," he said. "Me too."

"Then I meet people like you, Hobie. Good people. And it makes me want to keep going." 

Hobie didn't know what to say. It was hardly every day that someone called him a good person. Not cool, or fit, or a rockstar. But a good person. That was all he ever wanted to be in life - a good person.

Hobie turned to look at you, head resting back on the counter as he pulled his knees to his chest. "I'm not a hero." he said.

"Yeah, well good people are better than heroes." you told him.

For a minute, Hobie was quiet as the two of you watched the sun peek it head above the horizon, bathing the shop in the glow of golden hour.

For a minute, he was content on just hearing you breathe. And then, as the clock hit 5:25, Hobie said

"You know, you never asked me the question."

And at first, you had no idea what he meant.

"Earlier," he said. "You asked me if I'd answer one of your questions straight. And I told you I would if you answered mine. You never asked yours, though."

You realize he's right, that in the end, you hadn't asked him anything. And beside you, Hobie said "I owe you an answer. Ask me."

Watching him, in the glow of the sunrise, eyes lidded and on you, you could hardly think of a question. Your mind was empty. So you asked the only think you could think of.

No matter how much it scared you.

"Where you being serious earlier? About the date thing?"

Hobie smirked, and it was obvious he was just as exhausted as you were. "If I say yes, will you let me see you again?"

You laughed, even despite the exhaustion. That was as straight-forward as Hobie got. "Do you want to?" you asked him.

"I'd love to."

You couldn't fight back the smile on your face. And watching you, Hobie couldn't help but smile himself.

Instead of answer you fetched your bag, and from it you pulled a crumpled, folded flier. You unfolded it for Hobie to see.

"This freedom fighter co-operative I've been running with is having a meeting tomorrow night. After curfew. I'll be there. You should come. Consider it a second date." you said, pushing the flier his way. "We could use people like you."

"Which is?" Hobie asked.

You shrugged, finally standing. "I don't know. Good people, I guess."

You stretched, and as the clock struck 5:30, chimes outside alerted the masses that the curfew had finally ended. You could finally go home. You grabbed your bag from your feet, as beside you, Hobie stood. Stretching himself, he tucked the flier into his back pocket, before walking you to the door.

"Thanks again, Hobie." you said, as he unlocked the front door, because you couldn't help but repeat it. And Hobie leaned on the doorframe, same smug smile as ever, as he held the shop door open for you. 

"You don't have to thank me." Hobie said. "But aren't you forgetting something, love?" 

The two of you stepped out onto the doorstep, and even though you should've left, even though you should’ve headed home, you turned to face him. A part of you didn't want to go, not yet. 

And you had a feeling of what you were forgetting.

"Kissing on the door step at the end of the first date?" you asked. "Seems a bit cliche, innit?"

Hobie chuckled, even as he leaned down to press his lips to yours - the kiss soft and gentle, as if he was trying to tease you even then. 

"I don't believe in cliches, love." 

And then he was off, leaving you there at the shop, the feeling of him lingering on your lips.

💙❤️ —————— 💙❤️

If you made it this far THANK YOU SO MUCH i know this chapter was LONG

Pls let me know what you think of Hobie’s characterization and the British slang (im not a brit i just watch a LOT of British youtubers lol)

Hope you enjoyed the fluff!

kk stay safe bye bye

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 '𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 - ft. hobie brown / spiderpunk

🎸、 . *. ⋆ warnings; mentions of blood, profanities, 'breakup', makeup sex-ish, slight angst, vaginal penetration, no p in v, biting, mentions of piercings (hobie), poor attempt at British slang, parents in house, lmk if there's more! ✧. word count: 935

The rapid knocking on your window didn't falter even from the stormy weather that the sky was going through. The clock strikes 1:34 am, the light shining on the figure that was trying to get in by your window.

''Let me in... I know 'ya see me...'' The shadow had spikes on top of its head, and a guitar strapped on its back. The voice echoes from your window, only urging you to open the door. The raspiness and toned sound gave you an idea of who it was.

''Holy fuck, Hobie what the hell-'' His body fell on your carpet, limp and covered with bruises and cuts. His suit was busted, the fabric was ripping at the arms and the seams were threatening to open.

''What happened? Speak to me, Hobie.'' You quickly scooped his upper body to lean against your bed frame. You run towards your bathroom to grab a cloth and wet it with warm tap water. Your hands rummage through the cabinets, finding the band-aids and Betadine.

You approach Hobie's wet body on your rug, clearly swinging around the city while it was thundering. Someone didn't check the weather forecast... But you set that thought aside and wiped off the blood pooling on his cheek.

''I'm fine, babe.'' ''Don't call me that.'' Your words only seemed to puncture Hobie's ego rather than his body. ''Why not? Doncha love it?'' Your hands were a lot denser on his skin before he used the corny nickname on you. You and Hobie weren't so 'peachy' after that incident in one of his shows.

''Loosen' up, doll.'' Hobie's hand rests on your cheek, pushing away the stray hair strand from your face. Your hands swat his away and occupied themselves in getting the bandaids and the Betadine. ''Just cause I'm taking care of you now, doesn't solve our relationship, Brown.''

Your sudden call of his last name shot a bullet through his heart. He knew you were tough to crack, but if he had to go on his knees for you to forgive him he gladly would.

''Brown? What happened to 'Bee' or 'Love'-'' ''It died, Hobie.'' You put the last bandaid on his cheek, your face inching closer to his. His breath fanning on your nose and his eyes only piercing through yours.

''You wouldn't be doing this if you didn't love me.'' His words made your hands pinch his ear, a small frown appearing on your face. ''I'm only doing this because we're...'' Your words only faded away from the sudden thought of what you and Hobie were.

You didn't like labels yourself. But Hobie was the only one who could actually play your heart and make a tune. As corny as it sounds, Hobie didn't help the banging of your heart in your ribcage.

His eyes were looking directly at yours, winking at your cute frown. ''Friends?'' You pinched his ear again and rose up from his side. ''Bastard.'' Your words lightened his mood, but the spark remains.

Hobie stands up from your floor and follows your figure in the bathroom. His hand trails across your waist, your two reflections being seen in front of the mirror. Your hands grip the ceramic, letting Hobie corner you between the sink.

''If you didn't love me... You wouldn't let me do this, wouldn't 'ya?'' Hobie's hands slide under your pajamas, his hands pawing at your panties. ''Hobie...'' His free hand makes your way to yours, caging your hand in his.

''Mm, yeah? 'Ya know my name. Say it.'' His fingers set your panties aside, collecting your essence from your slit. A small moan comes out of your mouth. Your hand covers your mouth from spilling any more sound.

'''Bee, parents-' Hobie knew that your parents were in your home. In fact, a part of you thinks he came here for that sole purpose. ''I know, I know. Keep quiet for me, yeah? You can do that for me, can't you?'' You bite your palm once Hobie enters his fingers inside of your cunt, your juices pooling at your panties.

Your moans are muffled by your hand, his thumb toying with your clit. ''You like that, don't 'cha?'' His words enter your right ear, his hot breath tickling the shell of your ear. His cold rings hit your hot skin, and the sudden temperature change gave you goosebumps.

Even due to how odd it sounds, Hobie knew how to toy with your body just right. The way his fingers curl and crook inside of you, the pace of shapes circling on your sensitive clit, him pinching your nipples. He had known your anatomy more than you thought he did.

''Mm, right there?'' He was teasing you, the way your body shook under his touch only proved the impact he had on you. You could only moan for a response, your eyes closed at the knot tightening in your stomach.

Your hands let go of the cold ceramic of the sink, holding Hobie's hands through the fabric of your pajamas. ''Close? I can feel you. Fuck, so tight. Squeezing my fingers.'' Hobie kisses your neck, the cold metal of his piercings only made his sloppy kisses more pleasurable.

He bites the skin of your shoulders, ''Wanna keep me inside of you forever?'' You could only nod your head frantically, your legs close shakily. ''Cum for me.'' His words led you to your orgasm, your sweaty bodies sticking to each other from the heat of the moment.

''You know you love me.'' He grabs your chin and kisses your swollen lips.

the thoughts in my head with hobie only spiraled to this mess. i hope you guys enjoy this either way:) ‧₊˚ ⋅ fusaes 2023 do not copy

⋆hobie loves his angel.⋆

-fem!reader. slight nsfw. mdni.-

she scoffs when he calls her that, of course. “how can i be something holy?” she asked in jest when he called her by the name one night. “it ain’t about bein’ holy.” he had said as he wrapped his arms around her. “it’s about being worshipped.”

because she should be. by god, she should be. he wasn’t religious, but her? she made him understand why people wear crosses and carry images of saints in their pockets. of course, those same people would probably drop a bucket of holy water on his head if they knew what he thought about his angel.

like when she was walking around the room in that short little tennis skirt. or when she wore only her white lace bralette in his apartment. or when she hummed a tune. or when she looked up at him as she sucked him off. or when he pushed her back into an arch while he fucked into her from behind, her shoulder blades pushing up like angel wings. or how she sang his name like a hymn.

oh, there was a special place in hell for him, that’s for sure.

but like any institution, hobie scoffed at organized religion and said fuck off to their ideas of virtue and purity. his angel was beautiful, a work of art, worthy of all adoration. she didn’t need to be “clean” to be one.

so he pressed the word against her every chance he got. kissed into the skin of her thigh. murmured into the nape of her neck. tucked into the palm of her hand.

angel. angel. angel.

‘cause she was his angel, and he was her devoted sinner.

~just some thoughts that have been plaguing me~

want to see more of my writing on hobie or my other projects? click here!

labels (hobie x gn!reader)

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SUMMARY : sleepy cuddles with hobie!

WARNINGS : none? well hobie is ooc but thats not really a warning

AUTHORS NOTES : im in my spiderverse era and i just luv hobie smmmm. (no beta!)

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Hobie doesn’t believe in labels. You’re his roommate, his friend—maybe something more. Yeah, sometimes you sleep in the same bed, and you wear his shirts, and he kisses you, but that doesn’t mean he’s your boyfriend.

“Cold?” he asks, letting you lean into his chest. Hobie moves his arm around your shoulders, chin resting atop your head. You’ve never asked what the two of you are and he’s glad. He doesn’t know how he’d answer.

You shiver slightly, feeling the cold breeze rush through a crack in the window and curl around you, wrapping you in its icy embrace. You nod into Hobie's chest and grip tightly onto his shirt, stealing the warmth from his body.

"Yeah, 'nd I just wanna sleep." You muttered with a yawn halfway through your sentence.

You can feel Hobie smile beneath you as you rest your head on his chest. He squeezes your shoulders protectively before reaching down and grabbing a quilt he keeps in a small pile by his bed and throwing it over the two of you.

You're snug, warm, sheltered underneath it. He pulls you closer to him and wraps a protective arm around you. This—this is what you want, what you need. It's good—it's perfect.

You sigh in content, relaxing into the man and snaking your arms around his back. You pull him deeper into an embrace, shifting impossibly closer. Softly humming the tune to a song you heard earlier in the day, distantly becoming aware of Hobie tracing soothing patterns into your shoulders as your eyes flutter closed.

Hobie grins fondly as you drift off. He doesn't want to wake you up, but he doesn't want to leave you. He gently strokes a single curl behind your ear, feeling your breath rise and fall in a soothing rhythm. He can't help but smile, closing his eyes, leaning his head against yours. He's finally at peace.

He'll stay like this, just holding you forever. It's perfect. It's all that he needs.

Just before you drift out of conciousness you will yourself to lean upwards and place a tender kiss onto Hobies lips, uttering a million silent words with that one action. You pull away, lean your head back onto his chest and fall asleep to the unspoken "i love you" drifting throughout the chilled room.

The kiss, however quiet, still shocks Hobie out of his reverie. His breath catches in his throat, his heart flutters, and he smiles softly. He can't help it, his eyes grow wide, his vision filled with only you.

Despite his resolve, he can't help but lean down and softly return the gesture, placing a kiss atop your forehead and nuzzling the top of your hair. It's sweet, tender, perfect.

You fall asleep in the arms of the one you love. Not needing labels to know that you need eachother, just two friends, acquaintances, roommates, lovers— in their warm embraces.

The sound of your peaceful, gentle breathing fills the air, soothing Hobie as he holds you close. He gazes down at you, still in a daze from your kiss. His lips, normally bold, confident even, are now softer, warm, gentle.

The feeling brings warmth to his eyes, a soft smile to his lips. You mean the world to him. You're everything. You're all that he needs, all that he's ever needed. He'll never let you go, not ever.

I think I saw that requests were still open, and I was wondering if you could make a scenario where Y/N’s been having a bad couple of weeks, so their mental health isn’t exactly the best, and one night they’re standing on top of a building looking down but Hobie stops them and comforts them? I also have another one, but I’ll just make one suggestion at a time 😅

hi, anon! 🪞- Hope you like it! <3

California!

Hobie brown x reader

angst. fluff. Reader has a breakdown. headcanons.

Being a spider!person is hard.

a/n : i wrote this while i was listening California by Lana del rey. You can find more here " hobie's masterlist"

Hobie hasn't seen you in weeks and all he wants is to kiss you, maybe push you against a wall and give you a taste of what you gonna get when you two go home. However, your lover knows you so well that he knows something is wrong with you 'cause you're so quiet and don't even seem to realize that he's in the same room with you.

When Hobie wants to get close to you, Miguel is sending you two on another mission.

But his eyes are on you at all times though, Hobie knows the anomaly must be caught but you're his priority. Always. Hobie is aware that you're in the same place as him, but you're not really with him. So when you both catch the anomaly he follows you 'cause he definitely isn't leaving you alone.

You take off your mask when you reach the top of the building, you still can't remove that pressure on your chest and while you close your eyes remembering the hard weeks you've had you feel less excited to continue with all the responsibilities that came with being you; take care of your universe, fight against anomalies, not fail in college and above all keep lying to everyone you love just to protect them. You thought maybe Miguel could give you a break, but he's not making it easy. "That's how this job works Y/n...". You just wanna go back to your universe and hide in your room (as if that could give you comfort) but instead you're in another universe and you don't even realize your lover is next to you. Watching your moves.

Suddenly you're standing too close to the edge of the building and you're looking down; what if.. ? You wanna take another step, it's an intrusive thought and yet Hobie is always there to support you; he holds your arm carefully before you can do anything.

"what are you doin' luv?" he tries to joke but he's really worried. "Just watching" you lie and he knows it, but he doesn't say anything, he just pulls you to wrap his hands around your body, his hand caressing up and down your back while your head rest on his chest, feeling his heart pounding for you.

"You know you don't have to be stronger than you already are when you're in my arms luv" your lover whispers while you sob weakly "I got you hun" he mutters, leaving a kiss on your temple

"This is so hard Hobie, I didn't think it could be that hard" your voice cracks, you've reached your limit and he doesn't make you feel weak about it.

Hobie knows how hard it is, so he hugs you tight as he whispers words of comfort "it's okay, we're going to get through this" "I'm here Y/n, lean on me" "you're so brave luv " Hobie knows he can't protect you from the hard life that comes with being a spider person and he hates it but he'll make it easier for you, he'd do anything for you.

Moorning dear flamingo I come with another request that was on my mind all night after reading the last update for the 5th time, sorry for bothering you so much in advance.

So ok, I was thinking about something like this, hobie because of all the swings he usually does, he has these recurring back pains so reader makes a special oil/atom for him and they have this super cute scene of care from reader to hobes♡

Midnight, I swear, seeing your blog on my notes makes my day. You’d never bother me btw, keep dropping your ideas and I’ll make them happen 😭💕

Listen, with the whole moving houses, my legs hurt sm 😂 do I think it’s a beautiful timing (however not beautiful that my legs hurt). This took me 4 days to write help 😭

So, seeing from all older spidermen, Peter B Parker (ITSV), Tobey’s and Andrew’s Peters also had back pain, so, for things I’m gonna go for an older Hobie (instead of being Spider-Man for three years, I’m gonna go for more time)

Warnings: not proof read djsjejef

Like Magic — Hobie x Reader

Being Spider-Man wasn’t easy. The rebellious acts, the recklessly jumping from top buildings, the constantly facing danger. On a superficial level, it all sounded fun to Hobie Brown. But by the end of the day, he always came back home tired. He loved his side job as Spider-Man, he loved wrecking havoc and bringing smiles to people, but it was a demanding job with no free days and no pay check. At most, food the people he helped gifted him, the smiles and good wishes from people. It was gratifying, but it did nothing for his tired muscles.

Especially swinging from one building to the other. The constant tension on his muscles and swinging his hips to gather momentum, had a particular rough effect on his back. All of it. From his shoulders all the way to his lower back.

People always made jokes how one day you woke up, in your late twenties, and trying to crouch to pick something from the ground, something new cracked and nothing was the same afterwards.

While Hobie could still crouch and pick up stuff, he did a lot more rough jobs with his back. He didn’t think of himself as old. But being Spider-Man was not a job that was friendly on your joints or muscles.

With every passing year of being Spider-Man, he resented it on his back.

He slid into your shared bedroom, his body tired, exhausted. You were stitching something on the bed as you looked at him and smiled.

“Hey, baby,” You said cheerfully.

Your radiant smile made Hobie feel like some of the weight lifted off his shoulders, despite the ache all over still being there.

“Hey sweet’eart” He smirked and groaned as he took off his mask and put his guitar down. He went punto your bed and cupped your face, directing your attention to him as you giggled and pressed your lips against his, humming sweetly into his kiss.

“Watcha doing?” He asked curiously.

“Fixing my favourite skirt,”

“Good. I like that skirt on you,” He sighed. “I like it even better when you take it off,” He winked as he collapsed on the bed and groaned loudly.

“Are you alright?” You asked softly, Hobie groaned in response. “Is your back bothering you again?”

“Yeah…” He sighed. “You know, swinging and shit,” Looking at you with a sleepy smirk. “Baby…”

“I know,” You said anticipating his request as you got up and looked around one of the drawers of your closet, taking out some ointment. “You know the drill…” You said as he sat up and took off his shirt and top part of his suit. Lying back down, over his stomach, Hobie relaxed on the bed as you rubbed some ointment in your hands. “Lower back?”

“All of it actually…” He sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

As you started massaging his back, he let out a soft groan. Burying his face on the pillow. You chuckled. Gently pressing your fingers, you admired the little details in Hobie. His wild hair, thin complexion, the fading scars from wounds from earlier events, his enhanced healing factor quickly erasing any tracks from previous fights.

Your hands, soft and delicate against his skin, a lot warmer than your hands, as your fingers pressed on the tense points of his back. Each touch, making him sigh in relief. Following the line of his spine, the contour of his muscles, brushing his sides, tickling him every once in a while.

“God, how do you do it?” Hobie moaned softly. "It’s like magic,"

“Well you see, when you have to massage your boyfriend’s back on a daily basis, you learn a thing or two on massaging…”

“Lucky guy,”

“You think? I think I’m the lucky one, actually” you giggled as you leaned down and pressed a sweet kiss on his shoulder, making him hum.

“Are you sure? I’ve heard he’s a total punk,”

“Love that about him. He’s perfect for me so, people can say whatever they want about him, I won’t love him any less…” You purred against his ear.

“Would it be too bad if tomorrow I decided to stay in bed with you all day long?”

“I need to go to work,” You giggled.

“No you don’t. Your boss won’t mind,”

“Hobie,”

“When was the last time you called in sick?”

“Yes, you have a point there but,”

“Let’s be real, the book shop won’t crash just because you aren’t there. I know you love working there, and your boss in nice to you, but how many people buy secondhand books on a daily basis?”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re right. We don’t get a lot of people, he can handle the store on his own for a day…” You sighed. "You win, Hobart…" You rolled your eyes playfully at him.

"I always win," he said with a cheeky smirk, rolling over his side as he looked at you with an inviting stare.

Sighing and dramatically putting your hands on your waist. His stare changing into a puppy look, making you giggle as you went over the bed and laid down next to him. As he pulled you into a tight hug. Nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around him.

"Thank you…" He whispered, his voice much lower and softer. A voice you only got to listen in times like these. "I promise I won’t ask you to skip work for the rest of the year…"

"It’s July, Hobie…"

"It’s my best offer, take it or leave it…" He chuckled as you kissed his forehead.

"You’re impossible," You joked.

"You love me this way," He smirked.

"I do. Very much, actually"

"I love you too,"

personal n random Hobie Brown headcannons.

masterlistミ☆

a mix between x black!reader and just general headcannons / thoughts I have regarding his character. if you don’t agree with some of these, cool! Don’t tell me though bc I won’t care (/lh)

:: Hobie brown who throws himself onto you if he sees you in bed/on the couch without fail

:: Hobie brown who will eat whatever parts of your scran you don’t like. You hate pickles? He’ll happily take them off you when you take him out for a burger

:: Hobie who’ll just about eat anything you put in front of him so long as it’s seasoned appropriately, bro didn’t have the privilege to be picky ong

:: Hobie who gets choked up when he receives homemade/handcrafted gifts from his mates. the loose stitches n crumpled corners show him you care.

:: Hobie brown who has a shelf filled with bootleg copies of mainstream films. will look at you sideways when you tell him people pay to stream movies, refuses to use your account when you offer.

:: “Say what y’want about my collection- animation quality’s awful, directors choices are questionable but don’t act like it doesn’t bang every time you watch it”

:: Hobie whose book smart, public library was probably his best mate. means he’s got at least a few facts in a couple of obscure places. will list off resources at the drop of a hat if you tell him you want to read up on anarchist literature and black british (music, art) history etc.

:: Hobie brown whose on the aromantic spectrum!! That man is a pan-alterous icon heavy on the ALTEROUS. ATTRACTION. ‼️

:: Hobie brown who bites his nails despite them being painted to stop himself from biting them

:: Hobie brown who hooks you up when you express your interest in smoking weed, always making sure you practice safely/will happily check your shit for you if you source it from somewhere else

:: Hobie brown whose that friend who stops every 10 minutes when you’re out n about because he’s struck up conversation with someone who he thought had a sick fit on.

“Did you know them?”

“Nah mate- their hair looked wicked though, innit?”

“You were talking for half an hour…”

“Shit fr? Didn’t even get their name, ah well.”

:: Hobie brown who cackles at inappropriate moments during serious conversations- people swear he does it on purpose but he just finds humour in the weirdest shit?? Miguel could be talking about recent casualties and Hobie will be sniggering at his vocal inflection on the most irrelevant adverb.

:: in terms of music, a non-punk artist I see him fucking with is obongjayar

:: this nigga cannot cook. don’t try and convince me to say he can but anything that doesn’t involve simply microwaving it or adding boiling water my man is STRUGGLING.

:: but he is resourceful and creative though like let’s not lie- he’s got the brain power just not the success rate, you get me?

:: will let you brush out and do his edges for him when you’re bored at home- he doesn’t gaf if you use less popular black hair products or not- as long as his hair is CLEAN, smells good and is soft it could be eggs and mayonnaise and he’d let you use it on him (as long as it’s yk- ethical)

:: has an eclectic mix of beliefs n practices?? probably a reflection of the diverse community within London (or Old York) n the vast amount of people he knows in the spiderverse- I DUNNO he just seems very lax n down to try / learn abt whatever.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

- Instructions -

Pairing: Hobie x fem!pregnant!reader

Request: [ @spidersthetic ] building a new piece of furniture from a flat pack together w Hobie || Ok, so what I was thinking for this was reader is pregnant and they're setting up the nursery and Hobie claims to know how to build the crib without the instructions and she doubts he can but enjoys the show as he struggles so like 10 minutes later, he gives up and asks her to give him the instructions and she tries not to laugh and comforts him a little.

Synopsis: Hobie tries to put together your child’s crib but it doesn’t goes the way he planned in his head.

Content: fluff, Hobie trying to avoid instructions at all costs, reader supporting him no matter what, small Miguel diss, Reader being a cutie, cute and fluffy pregnancy fic

Author’s Note: I had fun writing this! This is my first time writing for astv or anything outside of avatar so I hope you all enjoy this!

- Shoutout to my bestie, @spidersthetic for all her encouraging words and helping me while I’ve been making my transition to writing for astv! If it wasn’t for her sending me prompts/requests I wouldn’t have known what to write!

Word Count: 710

Extra: Requests are closed! || Likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated❤️!

Links: Navigation || Astv Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Taglist

“Hobie, baby, can you please just read the instructions? I’ve been sitting in here with you for half an hour and nothing is done.”

“I told you I don’t need instructions. I got this. Don’t you have faith in your man?” His overconfident smile rises as he walks over and plants a kiss on your forehead to reassure you that he could handle this since in his eyes, it’s a minuscule task.

You shake your head, a chuckle emerging from your lips, knowing that this was going to go the opposite of what Hobie has in mind. “You’re right baby. I’m sorry, you got this!” You give him a wide smile along with two thumbs up to emphasize your support, and settle back to watching him once again attempt to put together your unborn child’s crib.

It’s been ten minutes since his last attempt, and just like you assumed it isn’t going well. However you wouldn’t deny that it was currently your source of entertainment. Hobie has multiple pieces scattered around the nursery; screws, and bolts attached to parts they shouldn’t be. And he looks by all means confused about how to assemble the crib.

As Hobie continues trying to figure out which part goes where, he starts growing frustrated. Each time he puts two pieces together, they don’t fit or the screw doesn’t align properly, which makes him groan as the feeling of aggravation arises a tad more with each passing failure.

You know he’s struggling and that he needs the instructions, but due to his stubbornness being mixed with a sense of determination, he doesn’t give up, at least for about another fifteen minutes.

“Can you pass me the bloody instructions?” He grumbles, hating the fact he has to admit defeat and cave to using someone else’s ideology of how to build a piece of furniture.

Looking at the scowl formed on his lips makes you want to burst with laughter, but you implement all your self-restraint and bury it deep down, knowing that it would only make him feel worse about not being able to complete the task solely on his own.“Here,” you hand him the pamphlet of instructions, “Honey, it’s okay to use the instructions, you know. I heard that Miguel had to use instructions to work the majority of technology in Spider-HQ even though he acts like he knows everything like the back of his hand.” You say in a playful tone, knowing how much Hobie dislikes Miguel and enjoys hearing stories about his screw ups.

“Really? Well, that does make sense. He is almost ancient at this point. I don’t see why he doesn’t retire and live a regular life instead of chasing Miles around Earth-928B like a madman.” He can’t help letting the laugh rise, thinking about how Miles blasted and defeated Miguel in front of everyone.

“Yes! So my point is that it’s okay to use instructions. They're here for a reason, which is to help.” You rub his back gently, hoping this will help lessen his complaints.

“You’re right, I’ll use the instructions.” He opens the pamphlet and begins to correctly assemble the crib, which makes you happy since you’ve been wanting this to finally be completed with the baby just a few months away from arriving.

“See, baby, your daddy is finally getting it done. He just needed a little kick in the pants from mommy.” You giggle softly to yourself as you rub your baby bump and watch Hobie make the final adjustments on the crib.

“How does it look?” He asks, inspecting the fully assembled crib in the corner of the nursery.

“Perfect, Hobie. I knew you could get it done!”

I hope you enjoyed❤️!

Editor - @justmemyselfandthemoon

Taglist: @inspace1 @number1gal @phoenixx69 @savagemickey03 @soilmayo @gamerxpfighter

©️inlovewithpandora ━━━ 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 | All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

big steppa! — hobie brown x gn!reader

summary: you ask to wear hobie’s platform boots and you didn’t realize how difficult it would be to manage

extras: he calls you “love”, his nickname is bee, hobie is taller then you, fluff

notes: I’ve only worn platforms once, nearly busted my ass in the halls, I’d totally wear them again though

you never realized how much of hobie’s height was caused by his platform boots, usually accompanied by dark blue laces and the boots would sometimes have a little bit of paint or whatever on them. if you were being honest, you never understood why he wore them, he was already tall as hell anyways being 6’5.

he taps the front of his shoe on the wooden floor on beat while playing a few riffs on his guitar, humming a tune, you turn to him as you’re doing overdue schoolwork on your desk.

“ aren’t those heavy?” you ask eying the boots and seeing the tall platforms, you wondered how he could even take a few steps in them. he stops playing and lightly chuckles “nah not really, I probably just got used to em”.

“ like for real? you can walk just fine?” you ask while putting the pencil down on the desk looking genuinely stunned. he laughs and gets up having his guitar lean on your bedframe, he starts walking and even spinning around a bit just to show you. “ feels alright, you wanna take em for a walk?” he ask smirking slightly like he’s challenging you.

“bet” you say getting up and he helps you put them on, tying the laces for you making a bow and wrapping his arm around to make one in the back, as you sit on the bed you swing your feet a bit “ these are heavy as hell.. you said they weren’t” you say as you manage to scoot up wobbling and nearly fall as the boots seem to have a mind of their own.

“careful love, hold my hand” he says with a light chuckle as he holds out his hand, you grab it as you take a step and another step and another, his shoes were much bigger so it made walking even harder in them, but you were a few inches more taller, “ I’m not gonna fall bee” you say despite you still holding onto his hand for support and him caressing it with his thumb softly, before he starts quietly laughing to himself before he spoke.

“you’re like a bambi on ice wearing these”