#heyyy boo😘 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-kr8tor · 5 months

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Okay I had a fic idea and rushed to tumblr to see if your requests were open I'm lowkey shaking rn.

Anyway can we imagine hobie and reader who are friends but secretly having feelings for each other, and one night reader gets a little too drunk at a party and sends a confession text to hobie ?! And the way he would come to pick her up right after this and confess in return AAAAAAAKFODJODNXODBF do you think you could write something about it ? No one can write Hobie fics like you 💕❤️

Hi hi I combined both of your requests bc they were similar hope you don't mind. Changed it up a bit but it's basically the same! Thank you for requesting!! 😘❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW alcohol, fluff.

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Getting wine drunk is a bad idea, getting wine drunk alone is an even worse idea. Your vision swirls whilst you watch the most mind numbing reality tv there is. Mind hazy, the smell of stale popcorn filtering in the air, blanket comfortably on your legs. You look at your phone right next to you like it owes you money.

With a narrowed glance, the screen blinks open like you commanded it in your mind. You don't miss how you quickly take it in your wobbly hands despite the alcohol warming your insides. Huffing, you're immensely disappointed to see a notification from one of the games you play to pass the time.

‘Your castle is under attack!’ it says in bold letters, and you wish it was him texting you instead. Your wallpaper doesn't help much with your pining, the picture’s a bit blurry but even the blurriness can't hide how deeply in love you are with your best friend. You remember when the photo was taken, and you remember how fast your heart was beating in your ribcage when Hobie yanked you towards him. Sweat still clinging to him from his energetic performance, adrenaline still flowing in his veins as he squeezes his face close to yours. He gives the camera his signature smirk, whilst you could only manage a lopsided smile. Eyes shimmering under the spotlights, arms bravely wrapped around his middle.

You still can't believe you fumbled that day, you thought you had your confession in the bag, but when he stared at you with those brown eyes you loved so much since year eight, the words got stuck in your throat. With alcohol in your system, flooding your nerves with courage, you open your phone to finally tell him your feelings.

> Heyyy boo thang <3

You giggle whilst you hover your thumb at the send button. Backtracking and drunk off cheap wine, you add more to your message.

> Heyyy boo thang <3 just messaging u how ur doing and also I love u so much like a lot ever somce you held my hand during pe when that ball hit my face I loveee u and not just a friend muah <3

Eyes scanning the message, a sudden realization hits you like a truck, as if sobering you immediately. The thought of sending a love confession to *your best friend has you sitting up right on the settee, moreso via text message. But before you could erase it and forget about it, a sudden scream startles you, jolting, the sound making you drop your phone on the carpet.

“Shit!” You glare at the fallen phone then at the telly where the reality stars are now pulling each other's hair like they're in the playground.

With an annoyed click of your tongue, you take your phone from the ground to check the damage. Sighing in relief, you see no cracks in the screen, but your heart falls on the floor once you see that your drunken message has been sent. “No! Motherfucker—!”

Hobie’s head is pounding from the combined powers of the pints he chugged and the loud music banging on stage. The old leather seats of the booth scratch at his jeans, the smoky and musty air entering his lungs, and the warm lights shining in his blurring vision. He usually doesn't mind it, he thrives in the environment. But his band mates basically dragged him into the pub when he was supposed to be hanging out with you tonight.

“Mates before chicks!” James said, earning a loud slap from Yuri a second later. “You hang around her too much, we miss our guitarist.” Ned mumbles with his puppy dog eyes that Hobie never thought would actually work on him. “Just one round with us! And you can come back home to your girl.” Riri added with a teasing grin. Hobie didn't even correct her at this point, and he knows it’s not just for one round.

After sending you a heartfelt message using Ned's phone, he rescheduled the weekly hangout where you and Hobie would watch the crappiest show you could find airing on cable, and whoever leaves the couch first owes the winner dinner. To which Hobie always sees as a win/win, he gets to hangout with you more, and he gets to see you smile when he purposely loses. Hobie invited you to the pub, even though he knows you'd reject his proposal, simply because he knows you hate the place, and how the carpet sticks to your shoes.

He knows you more than he knows himself.

It's hard enough to find the time to see you with all his responsibilities. He hates it when he could only settle with a quick phone call every night to check in on eachother. Especially when just a few years ago you were hanging out with him almost everyday.

He never thought he'd miss you this much when he agreed.

Hobie loves his friends, he really does, but you just have a very special place in his heart that he wishes he was in yours too.

Nursing a pint, he drowns his feelings with the amber drink and loud chatter with his band mates. Riri grumbles something about her landlord, while Yuri replies back with a ‘mine’s always open for subletting,’ she says in a singing tone. A minute later, the entire table looks at him with similar glints in their eyes.

“What?” He asks a little too roughly.

“You should get your own phone, mate, because I don't want to see your bloody messages.” Ned scoffs, his phone in hand. “Seriously, this one is sweet and all but this could take a turn real fucking quick, and I don't want to see that shit.”

“What the fuck are you talkin' ‘bout?” Hobie doesn't think he's that drunk yet, even though he doesn't notice how his words slur together, or how his tongue sits heavy in his mouth.

Riri and Yuri giggle amongst themselves, while James takes a peek at Ned's phone before making a dramatic shocked face.

His nerves shoot up when James mouths your name. Are you hurt? Are you mad at him? “Y/N, texted? What’d she say?” Hobie tries to snatch the phone from Ned, to which his friend pulls it away from him playfully.

“Oh I'm gonna need some popcorn.” Yuri snickers.

Ned, being equally drunk, clears his throat dramatically while leaning away from Hobie, who is too drunk to even win against James who's currently holding him back. James laughs like a hyena in Hobie's ear, while Riri takes a picture of the chaos.

“Hey! Boo thang! Heart emoji.” Ned reads unabashedly, the girls laugh louder at Hobie's expense. “Just messaging you how you're doing, and also I love you so much!” Ned tries to copy your voice, “Like a lot—!” Hobie has had enough, cheeks hot (not from the alcohol) he uses his spider strength to push past James, then grabbing the phone so quickly that not even the owner processed what happened until he sees it in Hobie's hand. “You're no fun, mate.”

“Has anyone ever told you not to read someone else's messages?” Hobie hides the screen on his chest.

“It's my fucking phone!” Ned gestures wildly.

Hobie glares at his bassist, he peeks down at the bright screen, your name up top and caller ID smiling at him. He can't help but smile back.

He might be drunk, but he's not drunk enough to hallucinate you confessing your love to him. Via Ned's phone nonetheless.

He feels bodies crowd around him, Yuri's chin is pressed on his left shoulder while Ned on his right. Riri pushes James away to get a closer look at the screen while James settles to loom over everyone like some muscle-bound shield.

“What the fuck are you lot doin’?” Hobie asks, hands gripping the phone like it's about to be snatched from him.

“We're dying from anticipation here, bruv.” James says above everyone.

“‘Anticipation’, that's a big word, James.”

“Eat a bag of dicks, Yuri.”

“You first—”

“Would you all shut up?” Hobie hisses, eyes glued to the tiny dots at the bottom, indicating that you're currently typing.

“She's typing.” Riri whispers.

“We can all see that, Riri.” Ned whispers back.

Hobie shushes them both when the three dots disappear without a new message. His heart hammers at his chest, he feels like he's back in high school, way back when you could just smile at him and his day will be made better.

“Just tell her, mate.” Ned says a lot softer than Hobie thought he was capable. “We all know you love her, just bloody tell her because I'm gonna need my phone back to call a cab real fucking soon.” And he ruined it.

“D’you have a curfew, Neddy?” James asks teasingly, earning a scowl from Ned.

Ned rolls his eyes. “I'm just saying, she might appreciate it if you actually reply to it.”

“I think she's drunk.” Riri pipes up, everyone looks at her. She roams her eyes towards each of their faces. Rolling her eyes she points at the message. “Look, there's so many mistakes there and I've texted with Y/N before, she doesn't text like that.”

“What's wrong with texting with spelling mistakes? I do that.” James smiles.

“Because it's just you, you ding dong.” Yuri teases, and James fakes a deep frown.

“Being drunk doesn't mean she didn't mean the text. The alcohol might've just helped her send it.” Ned reassures Hobie.

“I did it.” Hobie half exclaims, bleary eyes repeatedly reading his text. I fucking did it, shit! He thinks to himself. Hobie's suddenly incredibly sweaty.

“Oh shit! That's my guy!” Ned punches Hobie's bicep. The rest look at him with bewilderment.

“What did you even say?” Riri scooches closer to read.

> I love you too I might be drunk right now but I wasn't when I first realized it I have loved you since you gave me hot chocolate when I was freezing my ass off trying to win that stupid selling contest

“Holy fuck.” Yuri pats Hobie's cheek. “Can't believe you're capable of being sweet.”

“Shit, bruv,” James sniffs, his tears falling on the screen. “that shit is awe inspiring— don't even start, Yuri”

“Wasn't gonna,” she shrugs.

Ned pokes Hobie's side when he realizes his friend hasn't moved an inch from his position. “You okay, Hobs?”

Hobie inhales shakily, a smile slowly spreading across his lips once your message pops up. He swears that fireworks suddenly lit up inside him.

“Oh my god—” Riri tears up, but before the rest of the band reads the message, Hobie jumps out of his seat, even forgetting his own jacket in the process.

“Hobie—shit! Wait!” Ned tries to call him back, but Hobie's already out of the pub, sprinting fast. “My fucking phone.” He could only scratch his head.

The wind nips at his bare arms, lungs heaving whilst he runs at full speed. He should've brought his web shooters with him, but he unfortunately left it in his jacket pockets. If he had them he'd be swinging to your place so he could get to you faster.

Hobie's glad that it's late, or else he'll be dodging people left and right. Boots thumping loudly across the pavement, hand gripping Ned's phone, getting closer to your familiar street, he curves around the corner, almost bumping into you.

He stops your momentum with his arms. He feels his own jacket against his arms, you wear his hoodie well. Your chest heaves, grin slowly appearing on your wind whipped lips.

“Hobie?” You ask and everything clicks together in his mind.

All the tentative touches you two shared, all the hugs that lingered a few seconds longer, all the times that you looked at him like he fished the moon out for you. And all the times he looked at you like you're made out of stars. It all comes together in that dusty street corner where you both have crossed a thousand times before.

“Looks like we had the same idea.” Hobie softly says, clammy hands sliding down to your own sweaty palms. He doesn't mind, it's you, so he would never mind it.

“I guess you read my message.” You hold him close, hands squeezing at his hands that you've mapped out in your mind.

He chuckles, sliding his hand out from yours to show you the screen. “‘Say it to me in person and I'll say it back,’ doesn't give me much leeway, love.” The streetlight above perfectly aligns above you, giving you both a spotlight.

You mirror his smitten smile. “What are you waiting for then?”

Hobie pockets the phone, then he holds your face gently, eyes staring at you like he always has. “I love you.”

You pull him closer by his collar. “I love you too, Hobie Brown.”

“Since when?” He rags you on.

You roll your eyes with a smile. “Ever since I got hit in the face with a basketball and you deflated it with your spiked bracelet and then called the jock who threw it a wanker.” He smiles wider at every word you utter. Leaning closer, he smells the wine on your lips. “The hot cocoa, really? That—” you fight the tears from flowing. “That was years before we became best friends.”

“And I've continued to love you since then, and will love you as long as you let me.” Hobie presses his forehead atop yours, a kiss would suffice better, but for now, he'll settle for this.

You know him better than you know yourself. “Save me a kiss once we're both sober?”

“They're all reserved for you, love.”