Hot Damn

Can we appreciate Hobie possibly not knowing all American lingo and mistakes Sloppy Joes as an Sex Reference?

Gwen: Hey, Miles! I'm feeling like I could go for a sloppy joe, how about you?

Hobie: *squints at Gwen*

Miles: I mean, yeah but they're so messy and I still have stains on my shirt from the last one-

Hobie: *chokes on saliva*

Miles and Gwen turn to Hobie:

Miles: Dude- do you want one or something?

Hobie: *Stares at them in baffled British* The fuck is an sloppy joe?????

Hobie Brown <3

It's the small things.

Being invited into a multidimensional spider society to protect the welfare of many universes isn't quite how I expected my past few months to go.

But, I'm not complaining. Until now that is.

I'm currently walking around HQ on one of the many platforms dodging busy spider people of all types, having finished my idle task work of patrolling my own dimension as well as a few others has left me rather bored.

I give a small almost inaudible groan as I keep walking, glaring down briefly at the boot on my left foot, the main reason and to my irritation, cause for my lack of blood rushing and interesting assignments being assigned by Miguel.

'You crush your foot one time and suddenly, you're at the bottom of the interesting assignments food chain' I think, grumbling to myself.

Thankfully, some of the other spiders have been able to cheer me up at times that they aren't on their own missions, Gwen often coming by to offer a listening ear, while Pavitr often distracts me from my feelings with snacks he thinks I may like and Hobie...well, Hobie has been asking some odd questions.

I'm too busy in my grumbling to notice Hobie pushing himself off of the nearby bench upon spotting me coming into his view, until he's walking right alongside me, slowing his usual quick paced steps to compensate for my boot-amplified limp.

"You still narky then?" Hobie hums beside me, watching me out of the corner of his eye as he keeps slow pace beside me.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and give a small nod at his question.

"Yes, Hobie, I am still 'Narky'." I murmur, having grown accustomed to Hobies slang, but being asked if I'm grumpy does little to improve my mood.

Hobie gives a slight nod, before the air turns to silence.

That is until Hobie, as usual, breaks it.

"What's your favorite color again?" Hobie asks, looking forward as he keeps walking but there's an undeniable hint of interest in his tone, as if searching for confirmation.

My eyebrows furrow for a moment at the sudden question, at first, Hobie had asked me if I had any certain allergies a few days ago, which I suppose could be related to my boot but not necessarily but now...this was off topic entirely, yet purely conversational.

I give a small shrug of my shoulders, "I dunno, I like purples and blues." I say, eyeing Hobie out of the corner of my eye, a bit confused to where this conversation is going.

Hobie, surprisingly perks up at that answer, his normally lidded eyes sparkling and I can't help my heart flutter at the sight, especially when his lips quirk up into an slightly proud smile.

"knew it..." Hobie murmurs underneath his breath, digging into his vest pocket as he steps in front of me, walking backwards and facing me, evading walking spider people with ease.

It takes a brief moment of Hobie rummaging into his pocket of his vest, before dangling a shiny, beaded and clearly homemade, Hobie-flared bracelet.

My eyes widen as I reach my hand out to accept it gently taking it into my hand, examining the beads and shiny silver thread that holds it all together. Its...all of the things i'd told Hobie about, or things he had likely picked up along the way of knowing me.

Theres purple and blue shades of beads, interlocked with small silver beads in between each in a intertwined pattern, and the smile just widens on my lips at the thoughtful gesture.

"Took a bit to find all the rights gems n' such." Hobie says. "D'ya like it?" He asks, placing his hands back into his vest pockets as he watches my reaction with a curious face.

I instantly nod, placing the bracelet on my wrist and to my surprise it fits perfectly, but I only smile wider. "Hobie, this is so sweet of you." I praise, looking back up at him.

One of Hobies hand moves out of his vest pocket to wave, 'a get out of here' gesture but the pleased smile on his lips does little to hide how he truly feels about the praise.

Hobie moves back swiftly to my side instead of walking backwards in front of me, nudging my shoulder softly with his elbow.

"Still narky?" He teases, and I can't help but laugh a bit at that, shaking my head as I look down at the bracelet, the beads making a soft clack with each step I take.

"Nah, not anymore." I reply.

Hobie Brown with an mute S/O!

-Hobie I feel would already know sign language, sometimes just finger spelling to keep his skills up to par. So when he meets his future mute S/O, he sighs much more around then, just to get them comfortable and not so subtly let them know he signs. He thinks he's so smooth until he accidentally one day trips his future s/o, he panics and forgets all signs and feels horrible but his future partners shoulders would just bounce up and down with an smile, their version of laughing. Yeah. He's smitten from that moment on.

-Once him and his S/O start dating, he's incredibly attentive from the start. He knows that his partner can take care of themselves but that won't stop him from telling the person who made your burger that you asked for no pickles, hand on his hip expectantly. (Not rudely ofc but, he would let his displeasure be known)

-Whenever he's not around his partner, he would just be so used to finger spelling and signing it's second nature, say he's on patrol and he's just finger spelling the lyrics to one of his favorite songs, thinking of his partner.

Hobie Headcanons as a Dad

It doesn't matter if he has a daughter or a son, he would one hundred percent teach them to defend themselves, not without a bit of sass of course. "Are you sure you're mine? That punch reminded me way too much of slime bouncin' off the wall."

Shoplifting. Oh, his kid wants a toy? If it's from a corporate store, he's snatching it with ease but if it's something large that his kid wants, he would just make it, or steal small parts one at a time.

Shoulder rides/piggy back rides all the time, play wrestling is always going on.

If his partner has a different accent than him, he would absolutely teach the kid to make fun of their other parents speaking. "Why is our child saying I speak like Donnie Thornberry when I'm angry..?" "Not a clue, babe." He's secretly cackling.

He wouldn't do the reach behind the seat thing in the car and say, "Dad tax". He would reach back in between stops, taking the snack/bag up front so the kids would have to steal the snacks back. "If you can steal it, s'yours."

Hobie as a Dad, would mean you'd find little sketches of his kids in little spiderman outfits with punk flare of course in the pockets of his jeans or vest, and if you just find little cut out patterns for such suits and a homemade sewing machine...no you didn't.

General Hobie Headcanons

Hobie Brown gives me insomniac vibes. He would walk around late at night with his headphones on but he would probably be listening to white girl music while making a cup of beef ramen. "Ca-la-fornia girls we're unforgettable, daisy dukes, bikinis on top-"

He has an resting bitch face that makes a lot of people avoid him on the street, coupled with the fact he's tall as hell but if he comes across a stray animal? He's instantly crouching down and offering a hand to the animal with soft cooing noises, making a nickname for the animal upon the spot. "You look like a Charles to me.."

I don't care if he is spiderman, he seems like he runs into things constantly, not because he's necessarily clumsy but he's lanky and tall. If you ask him where he got the bruises, he would hum and shrug his shoulders. "Think I slept fought my toaster." Just give you a ridiculous excuse everytime.

Hobie loves beanies, problem is, the fabric has to be stretchy enough to fit his bunches of hair which some beanies are absolutely hard to find made with such fabric so he gathers (steals) the perfect fabric (He stood in the aisle for a good ten minutes before picking his favorite color of the fabric) and makes his own beanies as a result, adding his own personal touches of stitching, patterns and pins. "Big brands could never." He would scoff looking proudly in the mirror.

This man doesn't do matching socks, I don't care what you say. "Our downfall as a society started with matching socks." He would nod and say.

Piercings and pretty lips

⚠️ TW ⚠️ : Mentions of piercings, needle and decent in depth process of tongue piercing.

Duck- Affectionate British slang term of affection for another person.

Word Count:2,066

"This would go so much smoother if you stayed still, y'know."

You give an incoherent response as you glare at Hobie through the iridescent light of his bathroom, not that he wouldn't be able to tell the mild impatience in your tone regardless of how unintelligible. Your tongue is pinched carefully between Hobies index and thumb finger, his eyes flickering from yours and back to the extended pink muscle.

Being around Hobie must be an greater influence than what you had expected, as you mentioned thinking about getting an piercing in casual conversation with him while lazing about one slow afternoon at his swaying canal boat home, Hobie had practically perked up like an shark smelling blood in the water at the idea.

How you had convinced Hobie to pierce your tongue in his bathroom of all places though in your eagerness, you aren't too sure but you're certainly not complaining while you sit on the edge of his bathroom counter, Hobie situated between your spread legs to get to properly get a grip on your tongue, seeing if you have the proper anatomy for said piercing.

Hobie hums, tugging just a bit on your tongue between his fingers, testing the elasticity of it ignoring when you grumble at him. "Well, you certainly have the anatomy for it." He says, releasing his pinched fingers from your tongue. You bring your tongue back in your mouth, running it along the roof of your mouth to get rid of that odd dry feeling of it being exposed to air for longer than usual.

"Is that a yes, then?" You ask, barely able to contain your excitement at Hobie nod. He leans to the side, one of his hands lightly drums onto your thigh into an practiced rhythm while the other pulls up the tray of sterilized tools he had prepared on the counter for after his inspection of your tongue. Although you're sure he's had it down his throat enough times to know you had the proper anatomy the entire time, but you don't say complain.

"And you're positive you want this, duck?" He says, quirking up one pierced eyebrow at you still drumming his fingers against your thigh, leaning back to fully gauge your reaction. The familiar nickname rolling off of his tongue, you never really did ask why he had started to call you that but it feels too late to ask about it now. You just glare at him and nod, even sticking out your tongue to further solidify your stubborn answer, you feel if you prolong this you might go back on this whole idea. Hobie huffs out an small chuckle as he shakes his head amused by your antics, "Alright, if you're sure.." he murmurs fingers finally resting against your thigh.

He grabs at an thin black marker from his pocket, gently gripping your tongue between his index and thumb finger again his eyes narrowed in focus as he dots right in the middle of your offered tongue. It surprisingly doesn't have an gross taste you note, just a tad bitter. Hobie leans back and releases his hold on your tongue, shuffling to open a drawer beside your calf digging around until grasping at an hand held mirror and holds it up for you to see the dot marked on the pink muscle. "Right 'bout there?" He asks.

You look into the mirror already trusting Hobies judgement and precision, nodding in satisfaction as you deem the placement of the dot acceptable. Hobie nods back, although it's more of an subconscious movement of your own agreement. He places the handheld mirror down beside you on the counter, his warm hand drifting from your thigh to open the sterilized packed needle on the metal tray on your opposite side. He opens the package with quick fingers, likely from practice of piercing his friends over the years and stitching. You feel a hint of nerves buzzing in the pit of your belly, but you trust Hobie explicitly to not screw this up...mostly. But if things were to go wrong, you would have solid blackmail for at least an year you think on the bright side.

Hobie then grabs at an pair of silver long forceps laid on the silver tray next to you, adjusting his hold on them, moving towards your tongue, clamping down on it with an steady grip as he lines up the dot on your tongue with the hole in the forceps. It doesn't feel too uncomfortable just a bit firmer pressure than Hobies fingers, your eyes trailing Hobies fingers as they move deftly into the open package of the piercing needle and picking it up between two fingers.

"Right, on three.." he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours for a moment of mutual understanding, your hands move to grip at the hem of Hobies shirt in preparation for what is more likely going to hurt like an bitch. You close your eyes as Hobie begins to count down, you feel him move just a bit closer his thigh nudging your legs apart just enough to slide a bit further in between them, easily closing most of the space between you. It would be tender how he molds himself to you if it weren't for the giant needle hovering so close to you.

"One...two...three-!" He cuts himself off just as he pushes the needle in through your tongue. Your grip on Hobies shirt tightens instantly as the needle strikes all the way in. You feel saliva build up in your mouth from the sudden sharp pinch, your nose scrunching up as you breathe through the discomfort as you try to keep your tongue still regardless of the forceps doing that perfectly for you.

"There you go, duck...jus' breathe, in and out through your nose." Hobie murmurs soft reassurances as he puts the forceps aside while keeping the needle steady through your tongue while his other hand grabs at the jewelery placed on the side that he had shown you for your possible options of tongue piercings he had kept around in a tiny mint container assuring you they were all sterilized and clean although you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as he said it was for in his words 'Mo-mintos' .

You had opted for an an small silver one, it's regular in size and shape but he had said it would look perfect with a sly wink, almost as if knowing something you don't. The last thing Hobie had wanted to do was overwhelm you with a larger piercing you assume.

He slides the jewelery in with ease as he pushes the needle out completely, tossing away the needle efficiently to the trash can in the opposite side of the room before working on screwing in the balls of the silver piercing on each end with quick fingers, unbothered when a bit of saliva and blood runs down over his fingers. You finally peek your eyes open squinting at Hobie through the tears.

Hobie looks up from your now fully pierced tongue, his pupils are a black hole surrounded by his beautifully colored iris as he looks into your eyes. He hums lowly in appreciation, his right hand coming up to wipe away at the saliva and blood dribbling down your chin. "How're you feelin'?" he asks, always attentive. If you weren't so focused on how close he is you can hear the undertone of pride as he speaks.

You slowly bring your tongue back into your mouth, feeling the cold metal of the piercing quickly adjust to the warm temperature of your mouth. The taste of your blood in your mouth isn't unbearable, but the amount of saliva gathering in your mouth is a mild inconvenience as you begin to talk. "I feel fine but it feels weird.." you acknowledge, testingly running it along the roof of your mouth before Hobie can warn you.

You wince immediately feeling as if your tongue were struck by lightning, and Hobie clicks his tongue but his eyes show only concern if not a hint of amusement too. His hands land on your thighs squeezing through the denim of your jeans to try to ground you against the pain buzzing through you. "Ya can't just do that. It's gotta heal." He scolds you giving you an raised eyebrows look, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. But still.

You nod as your eyebrows remain scrunched together, mostly focusing on trying to will the pain away, but ever greatful for Hobies quick thinking of using his hands to squeeze and rub up and down your thighs, the warmth of his large palms through your jeans is hard not to notice. His lovely, talented palms. Good God, now you're blushing. As if the pain wasn't enough to make you want to jump off of a cliff.

If Hobie didn't notice the heat rising to your cheeks he most certainly is almost able to feel it by how close he is. You speak after the pain finally dims, just slightly. "I was curious." Is all you state, beginning to feel your tongue swell around the base of where the piercing is nestled. Hobie snorts, his head rolls down to your shoulder momentarily, resting there as he stills his comforting motions on your thighs. You barely stop the whine coming from your throat as Hobie pulls his hands away, only to stop once they land on your cheeks and he looks back up, meeting your burning gaze.

"You're an dunce. Open up f'me."

You don't even bother to validate that with an verbal response, guessing he wants to see the piercing once more. You oblige and open your mouth, sticking your tongue back out, the shiny metal damp with saliva and hints of blood. Hobie seems to drink the sight in eagerly, his eyes glued to the metal jewelry he had placed there.

"Knew it would look killer, had a bunch'a fun memories with this one.." he murmurs, thumbs rubbing subconsciously at the skin of your cheeks. Memories? Your eyes widen comically, and Hobie chuckles, his eyes unsticking from the piercing to your own wide eyes. "Oh? I didn't mention that this was my starter?" He states noncommittally, as if it were the most causal thing ever. You had known Hobie had his tongue pierced, it was common knowledge, like when he stuck out his tongue in sassy retort during fond arguments, when he made up for those exact arguments..

But this was unexpected on an entire new level. You had his first ever tongue piercing jewelery in your mouth, likely from years ago. You can hardly contain your hands from gripping Hobies shirt tighter, butterflies rushing to life in your belly at the thrilling revelation. Hobie can't help but smile wider at your clearly affected reaction, keeping his hands on your cheeks. "If I didn't know any better, you like that idea.. don't you, duck?" He coos with just the right amount of condescension. His hands going to rest from your cheeks to beside your legs on the counter you're sitting on, eyes half lidded as he memorizes your no doubt flustered face, cheeks aflame and still dumbly sticking out your tongue for him to admire.

You nod, still at a loss for words but bring your tongue back into your mouth, the pain is a dull after thought by the way Hobie is looking at you as if you had given him an perfectly wrapped present has you trying to lean closer to connect your lips to his but he quickly evades it by moving his head beside your ear, clicking his tongue again in disapproval.

"Uh-uh, no kissing for three weeks till it heals." He reminds you so quietly into your ear and you feel blood rushing into your hear at his voice so close, so sweetly, but you sink back in disappointment at the mention, new piercing means no kissing after all.

Hobie must sense your disappointment as he gently knocks his head into yours, your disappointing thoughts pushed away as he gathers your full attention, suggesting something even more tempting into your ear. "I never said we couldn't do anything else." He says, nuzzling his head down to your neck, pressing soft kisses and nips to the flesh of your neck. "Just keep those pretty lips to yourself, yeah?"

Hobie Brown Roommate headcanons

He's awake at the randomest of times, you'll walk out in the living room at two am and he's just sitting on the couch stitching up his vest, listening to his punk music quietly playing beside him.

Hes kinda an older brother in a way, checking up on you with a knock on your door, walking inside (with your permission of course) and touch the things that interest him, and he may or may not steal the occasional hoodie or sweatpants from you.

He would make extra portions of his food for you if you seem busy throughout the week, taking interest in what your preferences are and what you avoid.

Hes a relatively clean roommate, picking up around the house, doing chores but not without his music blasting, even trying to get you to dance with him. "C'mon, lovey! Feel the rhythm!" He would wiggle his eyebrows, trying to convince you.

If you have previous band experience, he would probably be a bit more comfortable with you, talking and rambling on the couch together about a new band he has been wanting to see and you guys would gush over your favorite bands together.

Note:

If you guys send me requests, I assure you I will get to them in due time but I don't want to just give an "slightly okay" story, i want to give you guys something both you and I would read multiple times, I also like to do some research beforehand to make the stories accurate and relatable, but I'm currently struggling with some writers block at the moment although i assure you i will get to requests when possible! Your guys requests are awesome and I appreciate them all very much! <3

can you make another hc of hobie as a brother?? mainly an older brother 🤗

of course!

Hobie Brown as an Older Brother headcanon!

-He is very affectionate, but in an almost annoying way, his love languages are acts of service and touch, for sure so you can expect to get squeezed into an hug whenever you're in reaching distance, but, if you're too tired, he might just help you into bed and untie your shoes for you. (Because he's a sweetie pie-)

-noggies, all day, everday. It doesn't matter if you just woke up, or if you're getting ready for the day, you're getting put into an headlock and noggied. "What? Am I not allowed to show my lil bro/sis that they're loved?" He would say, with an dopey grin on his face as he releases you.

-He knows his sibling very well, if you came home a bit upset that the test you studied for a week for came back as 'F' or something, Hobie, already knowing he looked over your work and knows that the grade is absolutely false and that you deserve a better mark, he would tug you along to the teachers house in the dead of night, to toilet paper and egg the hell out of their house as well as sending an personal note to the teacher to kindly recheck your work. Safe to say, your grade was fixed the next day.

-If you're shorter than him, he is always using you to lean on, not necessarily putting all of his body weight on you but definitely letting you know that he's beside you or using you as an armrest, he often comes up behind you and just places his head up on your own, looking down at what you're doing with mild interest.

-I feel like if it was just you and Hobie growing up, he used to do your hair all the time while growing up, so, if he sees someone else try to do your hair he's glowering at them and their work. "You're not doin' it right, move." He would huff, before coming behind you and undoing the person's braids/hair ties/ twists/etc in your hair and do the style you asked for much more efficiently himself, having done your hair many times when you were smaller. "See? I didn't forget how you like your hair." He would tease.

-Hobie is the type to wait until his younger siblings eats first, before digging into his own food, always ensuring that they have enough food for seconds if they'd like. He has a fast metabolism so he goes through lots of food but, his little sibling comes first even if they don't realize it.