thinkin abt how hobie would feel abt the US government basically confirming the existence of aliens.
he’d probably go like: “See they’re hiding fucking aliens what more could those assholes be hiding?” and he’d go on a crazy long rant abt the shitty people who run the world and he gets suspicious of the ppl arnd him who could be shape shifting aliens
★ NOTES just in a really bad hobie brown brainrot rn... enjoy <3
Hobie is the kind of boyfriend who would say smth like "that's pretty, but not as pretty as you." ABOUT ANYTHING !! he'll always manage to bring up how pretty he thinks u are
wasnt much of a texter but when he got with you he put more effort into texting back/texting u
his sleeping clothes consist of those plaid pajama pants or sweatpants and no shirt. if he has a shirt on its either a crop top, or smth sleeveless
if ur the type to have a lot of stuffed animals and treat them like ur children hobie will happily play the role of 'dad' for all ur babies despite it sounding silly
he smells really nice, like a 'i actually cant pinpoint what u smell like' kind of nice, but if u had to boil it down he smells musky and a little bit like the ocean
shows u all the small businesses he shops at so u dont have to spend money on the big corporations
doesnt necessarily force his beliefs onto u but he tries to lead u in a better direction
whenever u go over to his apartment r&b is always playing on his speakers
likes to try and teach u how to play his guitar with you in between his legs every now and then if you dont know how
likes to give u forehead kisses, does it too much honestly. not becuz of any height advantage but becuz he thinks its the sweetest gesture he can do to u
when u guys hold hands he likes to bring ur hand up to his lips and kisses every knuckle
when ur throwing a fit he likes to web u back to him as u walk away cuz u always fall into his arms and he thinks its romantic
teases u a lot, u guys have a best friends and dating kind of trope
most of his gifts for u are DIY <3
his love language is gift giving and acts of service
not much of an emotional or sappy talker so he makes up with his kisses or sweet touches
if ur a glasses wearer best believe hes bullying you (lovingly) for it
enjoys quiet time with u a lot. the kind where ur both just doing ur own things but together. yeah absolute sucker for that
★ CW reader is portrayed to be feminine and likes a lot of pink and other 'girly' things ★ NOTES just a little something becuz the hobie brainrot is too real and I need to let it out SOMEWHERE, hope u guys enjoy ♡ ★ WC: 682
Hobie was never really the kind of guy to have a 'type'. He liked who he liked. So when you came into his life, or well more specifically, when you walked into the stingy venue where his band was performing, all dolled up and pink looking like you came straight out of a children's princess story book, he had no complaints.
After his band's set, he hopped off the stage immediately, pushing and squeezing through the crowd just to get to you. He really wanted to hear what you sounded like. Eventually he stumbles in front of you, immediately straightening up with one hand stuck out to you and the other tucked into the pocket of his vest.
"Hey there," He says with a small smirk. You take his hand kindly, so softly that Hobie feels as though he might accidentally break your bones if he shook your hand too hard.
"What's a pretty girl like you doin' here all alone?" Hobie asks with a tilt of his head. He's already gently guiding you to the side of venue, keeping an arm extended out next to you so that no one bumps into you.
An evening of talking turned into exchanging numbers, and that turned to what you two were now.
Hobie wasn't one for labels, most especially in relationships, but you were his girl and he was yours, and he made sure to show you well. He didn't care that you two were practically polar opposites, your only common denominator being you both liked cats and plants. No no, he didn't care about that. Not when you talked his ear off on the names of all your stuffed toys. Not when you excitedly press your soft lips against his cheek before he hops up on stage. And especially not when your hands fit so well into his own. No, you were his. His girl, his angel, his sweetheart, you were his everything.
Hobie didn't care when you two fought either. They rarely happened but when it does things get rough.
You just stormed out of his apartment, fed up with his reluctance to tell you where he was last night. But how would he tell you that he was Spider-man? That he was busy trying to keep the city safe and most definitely not messing with other girls? Hobie decides to give you some space before he follows you over to your apartment a few hours later.
"What are you doing here?" You ask softly, your front door slightly ajar. It had only been a few hours but Hobie had oh so desperately missed your face. In his hands, a bouquet of your favorite and in the other a box of your favorite pastries.
"Just here t'spoil my angel." Hobie murmurs, leaning down and brushing your hair away to press his lips on your forehead. He lets himself in, gently pushing you back into your apartment and into your bedroom with a large hand on the small of your back. Truthfully, Hobie knows that you'll always let him crash back into your life, loud and reckless like how he always is. Breaking down your walls with his lips and his wandering hands.
He lays you on the bed, hovering over you on his elbows as he presses his lips to yours, and you let him. His kisses are his apology, soft, sweet, and insistent. After some time you gently push him off of you pestering him about not wanting the stuffed animals, your babies, you call them, to see you two locking lips. Hobie laughs and rolls over, laying on his back. And just like that, he's forgiven.
Other than the occasional fight, the two of you were smooth sailing. Spending the days in solidarity with each other. Sometimes Hobie will bring you to a rave or to a band gig. Sometimes you'll bring him to a baking class. It was 50/50. And despite all eyes being on you two as you locked hands, Hobie could care less, because you're his pretty girl, and that was all he needed.
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