Hobie Brown With An Insomniac S/O

Sickly Sweet Part II

I shuffle about in the kitchen, buttering two pieces of toast onto a plate before walking over towards the stove, stirring the pot of soup with the spoon sticking out of it. The atmosphere is almost peaceful if it weren't for the sound of a ball bouncing off of a wall coming from the bedroom down the hall.

Tap...tap...tap.

Then silence.

"Baaaaaabe?" Hobies stuffy voice rings out from the open bedroom door, and I can't help the small tinge of frustration in my tone.

"Yes, Hobie?" I call back over my shoulder, opening up a cupboard above the stove to grab a tray as well as a bowl for the soup.

Another beat of silence passes.

"That ain't right...you callin' me by my government name jus cause you're upset with me." He whines.

At that, I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Well, sweetheart if you weren't kissing all up on me when I was sick we wouldn't be in this position." I throw over my shoulder, before facing the soup once more, filling it up to the brim with homemade chicken soupy goodness, placing it on the tray next to the two slices of toast on the small plate.

Another beat of silence before a sneeze rings out from the bedroom, an small irritated groan following afterwards. I begin to walk towards the bedroom, tray in hand and once I enter the doorway I'm greeted with the sight of Hobie, burrowed underneath at least four blankets with a cold compress on his head looking absolutely miserable.

"I ain't pleading the fifth..." He murmurs, looking at me with tired puppy dog eyes, the lack of eyeliner apparent due to him feeling too sick to put any on himself but his natural eye bags are as present as ever. I give an amused huff as I walk closer, setting the tray of hearty food on the makeshift-crate before sitting beside him.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, removing the cold compress on his forehead and replacing it with the back of my hand, checking his temperature. 'still hot' I think to myself.

"Miserable, I think this may be it for me." Hobie grunts, but leans into my hand regardless of how gross he feels right now.

"I'd like to write my last will and testament." He groans. "You'll get everything of course, lovey, but Pav gets my record player, he's been eyeing it for months I swear it-" I interrupt Hobie's tangent with a gentle shove to the forehead, making him lay down on the pillows.

"You're not dying, my god. Are you always this insufferable?" I question although I already know the answer, and letting out a small laugh, I had the same thing not even a week ago and I wasn't nearly as bad as Hobie.

Hobie merely sniffles, and nods. "You love that about me." He comments, familiar cocky smile shining on his lips.

I merely sigh and nod, "Yes, I do love that about you." Unable to stop the small smile of fondness in my face, my hands move and gather the tray of food from the side table, and place it on his lap.

"C'mon, eat and get your strength up." I gently urge, and Hobie sits back up, eyeing the food before taking one of the toasts from the plate and dipping it into the bowl of soup before tearing a bite out of it. He hums in quiet delight at the taste before swallowing.

"Thank you, Sweet pea. Mean it." He says, tired eyes squinting up as he smiles at me, before snuggling himself further into the pillows behind him.

"I don't suppose your bedside manner includes kisses and cuddles?" He suggests with a cheesy smile and eyebrow wiggle, taking another bite of the soup damp toast.

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. "Not happening." I say to which Hobie nods, shrugging his shoulders. "Was worth a shot." He smiles anyway.

Yandere Hobie Headcanons

-Hobie never was one for labels but upon meeting you, an new addition to spider society, he was instantly smitten. He couldn't help but gravitate towards you, seeking you out whenever he returned from missions, striking up conversation whenever possible, even if just for a moment. He denies the fluttering butterflies in his stomach each time he gets a glance at you or hears your name.

-Whenever Miguel would speak to you for mission details, he couldn't help but clench and unclench his hands in his vest, barely swallowing the lump in his throat, an uncomfortable pit rising in his stomach, one he hadn't felt in a long time. 'jealously', he recalls the name of the feeling, it's ridiculous isnt it? He's jealous over you, beautiful and intelligent you talking to such an unworthy asshole like Miguel, that just wouldn't do, would it?

-His jealousy grows tenfold when you start to make other friends in the spider society, he follows you around, glaring at anyone who even gives blinks in your direction, Hobie may or may not lead you places in effort to keep you away from others, his hand on your shoulder. "Aren't you starved after that mission, luv? I know the best burger joint ever-" it's all for the best if you stick with him, after all.

-Hobie has an irritated look on his face when you get an hug from Gwen, or an fist bump with Pavtir, but on the inside, he's absolutely enraged. He then decided to up the interceptions for other spiders to interact with you at all, and you just assume it's Hobie being friendly Hobie right? No harm done, he's just...checking on you 24/7.

-Hobie practically spirals out when you get hurt on a mission, be it an sprain or a bruise, he's absolutely worried out of his mind, self loathing thoughts screaming at him for letting this happen to you. He applies ointment, checks bandages, and offers pain medication at every turn, if he was protective before, oh boy is this man never leaving your side. When Hobie is assured you're safe and asleep in your respective dimension, he types in the coordinates to whatever dimension you had been send on for the mission, tracking down the person who had injured you with terrifying precision, and ensures that they die in a way that doesn't ring any alarm bells for Miguel and the other spiders, should they find out.

-Hobie would creep carefully inside your bedroom, having gained your trust and became quick friends, he would let his fingers trail over your clothing in your closet, relishing in how your room smells like you, if you were asleep in the room, he would just kneel beside your bed, his eyes taking in every feature of your face with the softest of looks, his fingers would twitch, wanting to risk a brief hand running through your hair but he would remind himself 'not yet, not yet'.

Hey I love your headcannons!

I was wondering if you can write some HCS of Hobie Brown dating a plus size partner? :3

Thanks!

Thank you so much! I'd be happy to!

Hobie Brown with a plus sized S/O

-Hobie will always have a hand on you, just generally cuddling you close, his love language is touch so this man quite literally is never more than a few feet from you.

-He uses your lap as his pillow very frequently, often times if you're sitting down on the couch it's about five minutes until Hobies head has made itself comfortable there, looking up at you with a cheeky grin. "Wha, im comfortable, aren't you comfortable?"

-Hobie is very big on showing his affection, so he'll often times come up behind you while you're making dinner or something, nuzzle his head into yours slightly and gently stroke the skin of your hip, asking what you're doing although it's very obvious what that is, he just likes to hear you talk.

-If anyone gives you a look, this man is on them before you even glance at them. He's smiling at them over your head (If you're shorter) or leaning behind you, (If you're taller) but the smile doesn't reach his eyes, and that smile is very dangerous. An almost, 'i fuckin dare you' smile.

-If you're ever feeling insecure about yourself, Hobie just knows, even if you don't tell him anything. He'll do extra things for you that day, maybe more kisses or cuddles than usual, dropping some reminders of how you and him first got together, emphasizing how amazing you look. "You remember when we met? All I'm saying is, I'm one lucky bloke." He would say, brushing your hair back with a adoring smile.

Part two of Plus size partner with Hobie? :3

Hobie Brown with plus sized S/O part II!

-Hobie, ever the doting yet cautious partner wouldn't straight out say he wants you to wear his clothes, BUT he would probably leave them around your place so frequently that you'd end up wearing a few of his clothing items, be it a hoodie or shirt and when he notices you're wearing it, this man is beaming for hours. "I think ah fell in love all ova' again."

-Hobie proudly has an arm around you whenever you're out somewhere, be it an arm just hung around your shoulders or an small grip on your waist. He's just content with the small contact between you both, but if you try to push him off saying that it's indecent to show such public affection in public, he would scoff playfully. "And? You're my darling, indecent exposure my arse."

-If you got some new clothing items from a local shop or something, Hobie would want you to show him all the new items you got, he would insist that his darling give him a fashion show, even teaching you a runway model walk from his brief time as one and when you come out after changing he's clapping and shouting praises as if he's at an actual show while sitting on the couch. "There's my dove!" "Oh my days, look at them go!"

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.

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

Hobie Brown <3

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.

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?????

Sickly Sweet

Like Clockwork, every year in the spring I get sick. Be it the flu, extreme irritable allergies that won't go away or just a stubborn cough. It happens.

I groan, trying to shuffle some of the blankets that are cocooning and holding me hostage in my boyfriend's bed off of me, searching for a moment of rest from being so hot.

"What do you think you're doin'?" Comes from the doorway, and I practically deflate at the sound of that cocky voice I love so much.

"Babe, I need a minute without these blankets suffocating me." I quietly hiss, glaring at Hobie.

Hobie only walks closer, stopping right by my side to take the damp rag from my forehead and placing a fresh and cold one in its place.

I can't help but tense up at the sudden coldness of it but it becomes very welcomed after I get used to the feeling.

"Is this really necessary..?" I huff, but Hobie merely gives me an raised eyebrow look, and I roll my eyes.

"Open up, Lovey." He says, grabbing the thermometer from the crate-makeshift side table. I only glare at Hobie, eyes narrowed in refusal and pure stubbornness. "No."

"No?" Hobie repeats, an amused smile rising to his lips, shiny piercing at the corner of his lips catching in the dim light of the bedroom lamp.

"No, this is childish and I don't want to-" I'm interuptted by Hobie swiftly catching my jaw in one hand, placing the thermometer gently into my mouth and under my tongue, shutting my mouth around the thin piece of metal.

"Hush and let me take care of my darling, alright?" He murmurs, eyeing the thermometer and me with his own stubborn yet loving look.

All I can do is sigh and nod, letting Hobie keep me trapped underneath piles of blankets, fetching me cool rags to place on my forehead and hope I don't sweat to death.