Hi I'm Katy and this is my blog! I'm 20+ yrs old, she/her. I mainly write fluff, hurt/comfort and angst, all SFW.
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Main Masterlist
Character Masterlist
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Hobie Brown Masterlist
TASM Peter Parker Masterlist
Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist
Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Masterlist
Jason Todd Masterlist
Ekko (Arcane) Masterlist
Aaron Davis (ITSV) Masterlist
Robert Robertson III (Dispatch) Masterlist
Lyonel Baratheon (AKOTSK) Masterlist
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Choose your fighter- current wips
Spotify playlists
Apothecary Event --1 year anniversary -closed-
Octobie '24 event
Summer flick screening -- 2nd year anniversary event
Octobie '25 event
2k Celebration Event
3rd year anniversary celebration
This blog is a safe space, Do not interact if you're Transphobic, Homophobic, Racist, Sexist, Ableist etc. I will not tolerate hate here.
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Love and Monsters with pirate!Gaz and mermaid!reader, please
During a storm, Gaz and his crew find an island. They decide to stay here for a few days, just until the weather calms down. One evening, Gaz goes out to look around the island and finds reader watching him from the water📽️
Gaz and a mermaid!! For some reason my brain went hmm this one should be creepy lmao probably bc I just watched the backrooms and that kind of influenced this one. I hope you like it still! ❤️
Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x fem! Reader
Word count: 3.5k
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader except for mermaid features, CW death mention, horror elements, mermaid! Reader, pirate! Gaz, a bit of hurt/comfort, fluff (?)
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Katy's summer flick screening
Gaz looks at the broken pieces of his life laid out before him on the sharp rocks. Pieces of the broken hull, a part of the mast, and piece of a sail. All splintered wood, sharp edges and torn fabric. The wind and rain pours down upon him like a hail storm, blunt and cold, hitting his skin like icicles as he stares at what’s left of the ship like a fish out of water.
He doesn’t even know how he survived that, when he knows he should’ve died in the tides when his foot got caught in a heavy rope that was quickly pulling him down into the cold depths. But for some miracle, and a shimmer of something bright that caught his eye, he was freed. He didn’t drown today, he didn’t let the sea take him.
“Garrick!” The captain yells above the hailstorm, lightning striking somewhere in the island as it flashes a quick light on the surviving crew. “We need help!”
Looking around, he sees only a handful of the crew, one was missing an eye, one is still coughing out salty water, while Soap desperately pumps at a crew member’s chest, trying to bring him back to life. Price looks at him, and Gaz knows that he’s beyond saving. That they’re beyond saving.
—
The rain finally stopped, it felt as though it could’ve drowned the whole world. But it stilled, and the sky is blue again, the sea is calm and he could feel the sunshine on his skin again. A warmth that he missed, a warmth that brings hope.
Ghost woke him up in the crack of dawn, coaxing him to help him gather wood and vines so that they could start building a boat and get out of the deserted island. Gaz doesn’t mind the hard work, but on an empty stomach, skin reddened and angry from the sun, and bones still aching from the lengthy swim, he’d rather sleep the day away and dream of getting home.
As he lumbers around the island, he doesn’t stray too far from the beach when the captain told him not to enter the thick woods with its tall grass that rises too high to just be grass, and trees that are bent in an awful way, as if there is something wrong with it. The whole place feels like it’s wrong, the sand is too soft, like it was sorted from the rough ones, and made by hand, molded into this pristine thing that doesn’t feel real. It’s too glaringly white, more akin to snow than sand. He has seen white sandy beaches before but this one just doesn’t seem right. The colour is off. Everything feels off here.
Maybe that’s why Captain Price doesn’t want any of his crew to stray too far from camp, he sees it too, he feels how wrong this place is. It’s like an island created from a fading memory.
With his arm full of sticks, he hears something rustle in the grass. He ignores it, chalking it up to the wind, or maybe a wild animal. He’d hunt it down for its meat, but it’s way further into the thicket, where the canopy is too thick that the sunshine can’t shine through. If he squinted his eyes enough, he could see a sliver of light coming from the bushes, like a dagger peeking through a sheathe. The same light that saved him from drowning.
When he blinks, it's gone.
—
“We need to get out of here.” Roach says, grimacing in between his teeth as he endures the pain. The bandage over his eye needs changing as the flies roam above him that Kyle has to swat them away every few seconds. “I can’t bear it, it’s like this place messes you up. I can feel it wiggling inside my head, Gaz.” Sweat trickles off his fearful face, fingers bent at an odd angle as he gestures at his missing eye. “It’s in here, I can just feel it.”
“It’s just the pain talking, there’s nothing inside. I checked, remember?” He tries to reassure, but the man just keeps mumbling, tossing and turning on his makeshift cot. “You’ll be alright, Roach.”
Gaz turns to Price as he tries to spear a fish in the water. He meets with his equally tired eyes, his skin red and taut at the corners. He knows that he hasn’t caught a single fish since morning.
They go to sleep hungry again.
—
The crew wakes up to Roach’s screaming.
A guttural shriek that could wake up the whole island if there is other life in it. The poor man claws at his socket, ripping off the bandages despite the screams of protests from the rest of the crew.
Ghost grabs at his hands, and yet Roach still claws, gripping onto Simon’s forearms as he lets out another pained scream.
Gaz could only watch as he writhed in pain, legs kicking sand, and fingers bent. He wishes it would stop, that Roach’s pain would ebb away.
Then it stopped, the screaming abruptly ceases, as if it was ripped from his throat mid shriek. As if Kyle’s wish came true.
It was eerie, but no one mentions it, too afraid to even say it out loud.
Simon takes a deep breath, letting go of Roach’s wrists while his own is covered in reddened scratches.
“Ghost, take it off.” Soap breaks through the silence, looking at the dirtied cloth over the sunken eye.
Simon doesn’t reply, and yet he does what he’s told.
The sight alone would make Gaz retch, not because he’s disgusted, but because he couldn’t believe his eyes.
There, right in what was supposed to be Roach’s missing eye, is a new one. The iris is bright blue, like the sea after a storm, too bright, too blue, wrong, it’s wrong.
“What the fuck.” Simon doesn’t say it like a question, he says it out of shock, and it’s hard to shock the man.
Under him, Roach grasps at his eye, feeling, blinking, as if he’s testing it out. He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t murmur, nor question it. He just laughs. With a crooked smile, a laugh that rumbles his throat, a laugh that could wake up the dead.
Gaz doesn’t go back to sleep that day, nor the next.
—
The crew doesn’t get to eat again. They got so hungry that everyone started to try their luck on their own by fishing. No one caught anything, except for Gaz. He caught a crab a few ways away from camp, at the same part where he saw the glittering thing in the bushes.
The crab was orange and plump, it was still snipping at him when he cracked it open, slurping its insides greedily. Kyle finishes it halfway when he realizes that he needed to share. That his crew is starving too.
There’s that rustling again.
Louder this time, much closer to him.
When he turns to the sound, he sees the same shimmering blade poking in between the tall grass.
It’s watching him.
“What do you want?” He bravely exclaims at the entity. Because Kyle Garrick didn’t get to be a damn good pirate for being a coward. Whatever’s watching him, he’ll face them head on. “Were you the one who did that to Roach?”
There’s more rustling. It stays. Shimmering. To converse, or to watch, he doesn’t know.
Pursing his dry lips, he takes a look at the near empty shell of a crab in his hands. “Look, we’re starving, can—can you do something about it? Help us, please?” It wouldn’t hurt to try, right?
There’s more rustling, this time it’s accompanied by a low hum, like an arrow piercing the wind.
Suddenly, the ground under him rumbles, and out comes a hundred crabs clawing their way out of the sand. Whatever he was talking to understood him, and whatever it was, it was powerful enough to wake the crabs.
Gaz laughs to himself, and then yells for everyone to help him grab the crabs. There’s rushed footfalls coming towards him as he scrambles for a crab on the sand. He turns to thank whatever brought him the food, only to see the glimmering gone.
They go to bed full that day.
—
Roach keeps looking into the thicket.
He barely blinks, he doesn’t speak, he doesn’t eat. It’s as if the only thing that matters to him is whatever’s inside the forest.
“What do you think is happening to him?” Soap asks no one in particular, to anyone who would answer him.
“I don’t know.” Price answers in a gruff tone as he tugs at the rope made from vines that are currently holding up the whole makeshift boat. “We just need to get out of here.”
“He doesn’t eat, cap’n.” Kyle adds, palms rough from weaving the vines, splinters sticking out from his skin. “I’m worried, we’re all worried.”
“I've tried feeding him, Gaz,” he says without looking at him or Roach. “He doesn’t want to.”
Gaz doesn’t ask permission to help his friend. Standing up, jaw clenched and fists curled at his sides, he walks over to Roach, grabbing a bowl of crab meat on his way over.
“Mate, you have to eat. Captain’s orders.” He tries to lighten the mood, but he can’t even lift his own spirits, especially when that same blue eye doesn’t blink. Clearing his throat, Gaz picks up a piece of meat and tries to pry Roach’s mouth open, but the man doesn’t budge. “Gary, you’ll die if you continue like this.”
More silence, more breathing, and more staring.
He’s about to give up but Roach moves his head to address him, turning slowly, wrong, like a puppet on strings. Gaz can’t move his body.
“She likes you.” The former gunner says in a flat tone. It’s his voice that Kyle is familiar with after sailing with him for years, but it doesn’t sound right, like someone is using his voice, mimicking it to say those words to him.
Not it, she.
“Who?”
Roach lifts his hand, pointing right into the dark thicket. He doesn’t say anything else, and Gaz feels a tug right behind him. He turns to follow where he’s pointing at, only to see the shimmering blade again. It moves in a soft motion, rocking, like a ship on calm waters. Beckoning him over.
“Gaz.” Ghost wakes him up from his trance. “Need you to carry some wood.”
“Be right there.” Gaz finally moves. But his gaze stays on the flickering light.
—
They wake up to Price’s yells. Everyone rushes over to him, but Kyle quickly checks on Roach, seeing that he’s still sitting in the same place, still staring into the woods.
He follows the crew to the source, and they find their boat broken into pieces. The ropes that he painstakingly weaved are cut and gnawed, like a rat chewed through it. Then the wood has several holes in it, either cut jaggedly or bitten through. Whatever did it, whoever did it, wanted them to stay.
“Who fucking did this?!” The captain yells furiously at them. “Who?!”
“No one did this, Price.” Soap is the first to speak, hands raised, like trying to calm a wounded animal. “This wasn’t us.”
Price knows it, everyone knows it. The island doesn’t want them to leave.
—
He shouldn’t be here. Kyle is brave, he didn’t get to where he is now by being a coward, but the moment his curiosity got the best of him and he stepped foot into the tall grass, he felt afraid.
His legs trembled under his own weight, fists curled, shaking as his nails leave crescent shapes in his palms. Gaz doesn’t know what he’s doing, or why he’s doing it but he got tired of Roach’s babbling in his ears. Sometimes he’s incoherent, usually he’ll just stare at the same dark space. This time though, while the night is cold and the moon is full in the sky, Roach is lucid.
He eats, scarfing down chunks of crab meat by the fistfuls. His new eye works fine, still blue, still wrong, but it works in his favour this time.
The crew just stares at the anomaly that is Roach, the same man they’ve sailed with for years. They know his quirks, dealt with them, but the way he eats, the sudden lucidity has the crew afraid. Soap has turned his face away, Ghost staring at the pile of crab shells at his feet, and he’s never scared, not even when he faced a commander of the navy, Ghost was never afraid of anything, until now.
Roach does not feel like himself anymore.
Price has his jaw clenched at the scene, inhaling the scent of crab and the salt permeating in the air. “That’s enough, son.” He said, barely touching his shoulder. “You’ll choke.”
“No,” Roach says in between mouthfuls of crab. “I can’t.”
They had to tie him down. Gaz was the one who tied his feet together, rough hemp that scratched at his palms. That now squeezes at Roach’s ankles, leaving angry marks on his skin. They had to cover his mouth too, lest his screams haunt their dreams. They had to do it or else they’ll starve again, or else Roach will eat himself to death.
Maybe that’s why Gaz has found himself inside the thicket, where the moonlight doesn’t shine, where the sound of the wave is muffled in his ears. He wants to end this, he wants to end his friend’s suffering, and he knows, he knows deep in his marrows that what's causing all these misfortune lies deep inside.
With a makeshift torch in hand, he surveys the woods all by himself. He could’ve asked Johnny or Simon for help, but he couldn’t get them involved in case he perishes inside. He couldn’t do that to the captain.
So he treads carefully, feet taking tentative steps. Each footstep is calculated, each crunch of grass shakes his teeth. His eyes rake around, only to find the same thing, more trees, more grass, as if there’s no end in sight.
Then he hears the rustling again.
Louder, closer, shorter, just beside his ear.
He follows the noise despite his senses telling him to run.
He continues on, following some strange noise that could’ve just been an animal or a breeze passing by. And yet, once he steps into a puddle, water splashing his foot, he sees a cave tucked in between curved trees.
He could hear the same rustling inside, and water, a lot of it.
Gaz isn’t stupid, Gaz shouldn’t go in. But he did, and now he finds himself slithering inside the tight crevice leading further inside the cave.
Somewhere along the way, his torch dies, and he’s left in the dark, only relying on his senses. Palms against the rocky wall, breathing in the scent of the sea and something old, like mold, like a corpse that has long been reclaimed by the earth.
He stumbles out, and what he sees is what poets once wrote from their dreams. Stars, millions of them, dot along the cavern. He doesn’t need a torch when the stars are enough to light the way.
Right in the middle is a crystal clear pool with a rushing waterfall crashing into it. Kyle wonders if he could drink it.
When he takes a step forward, he sees the same shimmering blade flit across the water, like a stone skipping on the surface.
His heart thrums, and his mind tells him to run.
Then there are hands, eyes, two pairs of dark voids in place of irises, peeking through the water.
He should run. But he can’t, or couldn’t. Gaz doesn’t wonder when he feels his breath taken by the curious sight in front of him.
“Hello?” His voice bounces off the walls.
“Hello?” You mimic back, same cadence, same voice, but it’s not him completely, there’s an imperfection, something wrong, something you couldn’t copy perfectly.
“Are you—” Gaz swallows thickly, hands trembling at his sides. “Are you real?”
You blink. And it’s wrong. The slits of your eyes blink sideways, like an amphibian, like the devil.
“Fucking hell.”
“Fucking hell.”
He’d laugh if not for how terrified he is. “What’s— what’s your name?”
Your head tilts, you recognize it as a question, and the light bounces from your scales. You look human enough, like something born not from this world, or something that was made to mimic a human but couldn't quite get it right. A tail swishes behind you, beautiful, otherworldly.
“My name is Kyle, but you can call me Gaz.” Licking his dry lips, Gaz takes a tentative step forward, feet splashing onto a puddle. It doesn’t startle you, in fact, you look like you’re studying him. “Do you have a name?”
You don’t answer, instead, you procure a crab from under the water, placing it on the ground, and he watches it skitter away.
“You’re the one who helped us?” Realization flickers in his eyes, as he kneels down to level with your gaze. “Are you the one who cured Roach?” He gestures at his eye, “his eye, did you bring it back?”
“Did you bring it back?” You then tap at your own eye that still blinks wrong.
“Can’t you answer normally? You’re like a parrot.”
“Parrot!” Your eyes smile as you grin widely. Gaz could see the rows of sharp teeth you have.
“Yeah, a parrot,” he chuckles, why’d he chuckle? “you know what it is?”
You blink again, head tilted as you think. “Know.”
Gaz laughs, as if he discovered a new island to name after himself. “Yeah, you know it.” His chest feels lighter, limbs feeling numb, and he feels as though he’s in between sleep and wakefulness.
This is wrong.
You smile some more, chuckling along with him. “Parrot!” Pointing at him, he notices your long nails that could pierce into his heart if you tried.
“No, I’m not a parrot, I’m human.” He points at himself. “Human, man. You?” Brows furrowed, he then points right at you.
“Me,” you copy his movements. “Me, not a parrot.”
“I know you’re not a parrot, but who— what are you?”
Your lips smack together, blowing a raspberry that seems awfully human. “Forgot.” Your nail taps at your scaled temple sadly.
“You forgot?”
“Long time.” Gaz is good at reading people, but you’re technically not people, but he knows, he reads it in your expression that you’re solemn, that there is something more to you than he could possibly know. “Can I?” You reach for him, and he moves towards you.
Your nail taps at his temple, and he sees it, a world not his own, just underneath the tides, sunken, long forgotten, dead. Then you tap again, there’s life, he sees it through your odd eyes. Smiles, love, laughter, and they all look like you. He lives your life, drowns in the tides of the years you’ve loved through. Seeing all the love, pain and loss, he feels a kinship, he feels for you. He knows you, and your name slips from his tongue like how it’s supposed to be.
His vision fades in and out. “Long time.” Your wet lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks as your eyes glaze over. The connection was a two way street, you know of him, his life, his anger and resentment to the world, and his love. He loves so wholeheartedly that it makes your chest ache. That you could feel his love through your bones. “Gaz.” You say it in a smaller tone, as if you’re asking for something, asking for help. Lonely, you’re awfully lonely. A type of loneliness he knows.
“Yes, that’s my name.” He feels happy, content, like he made it back home, like he finally had a decent hot meal for the first time since the storm. You ease him, and he fully sits before you, a hand brushing away the stray tears.
He feels you, just like how you feel him in your heart.
“Don’t go.” The way your voice breaks, the way you sound so awfully human, how your breath hitches, how the words get caught in your throat— Kyle doesn’t want to go.
“I won’t.” He finds himself promising to this being that could be primordial, that could eat him alive. And yet he stays, stays still onto the damp floor and looks at you like how a pirate looks at a gem. “Can you tell me more about you?”
He knows he has fallen, deep inside his mind he knows that he fell for your siren song. He should wake up, should get up and run, but he doesn’t, he listens, and talks, and touches your face. And you lean into him, feeling how warm he is, feeling how love could be.
When the crew comes to look for him, they don’t find the cave, they don’t find you, they don’t find Gaz.
4. A story I haven't written yet...Officially, it's ghost princess!R for an older Hobie Haunted Mansion au 🤔 that one has been in development limbo for like three years 🤣 I am also thinking of looking into a Battle Royale/Hunter Games AU, but I would have to dive back into reading those media to get some refreshers 👀
13. Honestly, I haven't really planned on writing for other fandoms besides the Spiderverse/ Hobie fandom (mainly because I fear I did not have any visceral reactions to other fandoms like I have with Hobie 🤣), but I did have some interests in looking into The Amazing Digital Circus and Game of Thrones lore wise 🤣 but who knows, maybe I'll take other recommendations 🤔👀
16. Currently? My kitchen table 🤣 I like writing by all the snacks and coffee machine. I have been writing on my desk in my room whenever I get the chance tho 👀
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I...I have discovered something that I'm not entirely sure how to feel about.
My beloved pookie wookie Robert Robertson the Third reminds me a lot of Toy Story 1 and 2 Woody...😰 What does this mean??? Why would my brain put them together??? Now everytime I look at Woody, I think of Robert and it's weird asf🥲
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.1k
Synopsis: A prank makes Hobie question reality.
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, dad! Hobie, mum! Reader, parent AU, Twin AU, Billie and Ramona AU, fluff.
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The shared bedroom smells faintly of lavender from the newly washed sheets, and cinnamon from the late night snack you just had. Now that your cravings have been satisfied, and with Hobie none the wiser to your snacking, you can finally go back to sleep. But with the babies now kicking relentlessly inside your swollen belly, you can’t even close your eyes. It’s like your upstairs neighbours suddenly decided to use their vacuum at three a.m.
It doesn’t hurt as much now that you’re used to their kicking, it’s a mere small annoyance when the novelty of your babies using your uterus as their personal trampoline playground has ceased. You confess that sometimes you love it when they decide to do a little Irish jig, especially when Hobie giggles whenever their tiny feet can be seen briefly on the surface of your skin. He calls them his little xenomorphs. A nickname that you hope doesn't continue on after they’re born.
You’re a day past your due date, and Hobie’s jokes about overcooking the babies has made you laugh a few times, but you can’t wait to see and hold your babies in your arms. As of now, you’re contemplating whether to go to hospital and ask them to induce labour just so you could get some much needed sleep. But you know that once they're born, you won’t be doing much sleeping either when they're already so hyper before they could even inhale their first breath.
You can already imagine them all bundled up in those cutesy blankets that the band gifted to you and the soon-to-be dad. All those grueling morning sickness, the aching and the weird cravings will finally end, and will be worth it once the first cry reaches your ears. All that crying, you definitely need to stock up on some sleep. But it seems that the sandman evades you, your mind is just too occupied with thoughts of holding your babies and dressing them up in the bear onesies you impulsively purchased during a night like this.
As you stare boredly at the ceiling, daydreaming about the birth whilst the babies jump along the walls of your stomach, you suddenly get a brilliant idea. One that could have Hobie jumping out of bed in a panic, or with him getting pissed. But you know him well enough that he’ll be chuffed with you pranking him back after all the times he did throughout the years of being with him. You can finally get back at him after all the spider babies jokes he made.
Grabbing your phone, you search for an audio of a baby crying. You then grab a towel nearby, bundling it up perfectly to insert your phone inside, making it look like that a baby is all cozied up in it. Meanwhile Hobie’s still in dreamland, snoring softly, face smooshed on the pillow that will surely leave indents on his skin. His foot twitches in his sleep, murmuring something akin to his deli order.
Giggles bubbling up in your throat, you bite your lip to tamp it down as you cradle the blanket in your arms before pressing play on the audio.
The sounds of a baby crying bounces off the walls, and just like you predicted, Hobie stirs in his sleep. He snorts, eyes fluttering half lidded as you stifle another laugh.
“Hobie, baby, it’s your turn.” You gently pat his bicep, waking him up further as you act like you’re bouncing the crying baby in your arms. With a well timed yawn, your acting deserves an oscar.
“Wha—?” Sitting up by his elbows sleepily, he blearily blinks at you then over to the bundle in your arms. His voice sounds heavy, laced with sleep. “Sorry, love, give her to me.” Smacking his dry lips, he reaches for the towel with gentleness.
“She just won’t sleep, I’ve done everything.” Pouting, head resting on the headboard, you wish that you’re recording the scene. The way he cradles the empty bundle whilst he coos in the dark, you already know that he’ll do a great job when the actual babies arrive. “I’m sorry for waking you up, I’m just so tired.”
He doesn’t stop patting the ‘baby’ gently as he gazes at you through sleep ridden eyes. “It’s alright, lovie, it’s alright.” Now he’s the one shushing you with kindness. “I have her, go back to sleep—”
Hobie blinks heavily, and you bite your lip, stifling a guffaw as you watch his face slowly morph into realization. “Wait, where’s the other one?”
You swear you almost cracked right there and then. “What other one?”
“We…” his face scrunches together like he’s trying to solve a maths problem. “We have two, I know we have twins.”
“Baby, no, we only have one. I would know, I’m the one who squeezed her out.” You can practically see the cogs in his head turn. “Hobie—”
“What happened to our other baby?” The way he said it so softly in an almost broken tone has you aborting the prank. “Lovie, where’s our baby?”
“Hobie,” chuckling, you gently yank at the towel, unveiling it. He looks like you just told him that Santa doesn’t exist when he only sees your phone's screen light. “It’s a prank.” You feel too bad to even gloat.
His brown eyes flick towards you, narrowed, lips pursing together. “You cheeky… shit! C’mere!” A grin suddenly appears on his lips, lunging at you, mindful of his strength and your belly, he wraps his arms around you, pecking relentlessly at your neck and face.
Your guffaws echoes around the flat as he tickles your side. “I thought you were mad!”
“Mad?” Leaning away, eyes sparkling as he beams down at you, his hands pause from his tirade of tickling. “Love, that was bloody brilliant. You really got me thinkin’ that I went home to a different dimension.”
Your brows raise in surprise. “Does that happen usually? Wait, has that happened before?”
“Nah, not to me, love, don’t worry I would know.” He reassures you with a loving pinch to your nose.
You exhale a sigh of relief, “good, I thought you—” there’s a sudden throbbing ache in the pit of your stomach, followed by a wetness under you. Your heart skips a beat, immediately knowing what that means. “Hobie…” Your wide eyes meet with his.
Snorting, Hobie grins. “Did you piss yourself from all the ticklin’?”
Your head shakes slightly, lips tugging into a smile. “I think you should grab the go bag.”
“Why would I— fuck!” He rockets out of the bed, sprinting and tumbling briefly when his foot gets caught by the blanket. “‘m good.” Standing in the middle of the room, acting nonchalant, he turns to gaze at you with frantic eyes while his chest heaves.
“You’re chill?” Teasing, your grin lightens up the whole flat.
“Very, ‘m the chillest bloke you’ll ever meet.” Grabbing the bag with a not-so-subtle trembling hand, he walks back towards the bed, reaching to help you get up. “Let’s have the babies, plural, yeah?”
Your palm slides to his own. “Let’s meet our girls.”
Hello, is there any 📼 or 🎭 for Warm bodies in here? Thank you!! :)
In which Hobie is having a really really rough night (maybe nightmares or flashbacks or overthinking idk) and Gn!reader helps/comforts him🙏 i love your writings thank you!
Yesss zombie au!! Thank you for requesting! ❤️
Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood and death mention, zombie apocalypse AU, established relationship, hurt/comfort, fluff!
Katy's Summer Flick Screening
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Your guttural screams still echoes in his ears, the warmth of your blood splashed across his face. Your flesh teared from limb to limb as your guts spilled by his feet. But instead of your lifeless face staring up at him in horror as his own hands dig into your torso— your worried face appears in his vision as clear as day and as bright as the sun peeking through the thin curtains.
“Hey, hey, you're okay, I'm here.” Your hushed tone chimes to the beat of his racing heart. Palm placed on his chest, you tell him to breathe, whilst he can still smell the stench of death clinging to him. “Hobie, just breathe, you're safe.”
“Love.” His tone cracks, a trembling hand reaching up to your cheek. When he feels your solid form, warm skin that replaces the feel of cold torn flesh in between his fingers, he lets out a staggered exhale. “L–love.”
“Shh, I know, I know.” You hold him close, resting atop his chest, head right above his heart as you use your weight to help him calm down. “I'm right here, you're in the commune, safe and sound.”
Slowly, his hands reach up, enveloping you in his embrace. Blinking away scenes of gore to look at you. He grips onto you, tethers and grounds himself with your touch. His cheek presses against the top of your head, sniffing at the strawberry scented shampoo that the community provided. You smell like before, before the world ended. You smell alive— feel alive as you breathe on top of him.
The sounds of the outside world eases him further, people walking around the camp grounds that he now calls home with you. Children laugh as they play right outside the window, the breeze billowing the curtains, solid metal walls in his line of sight. And birds chirping as if the world hasn't stopped, that the world continues to live despite what he has seen— what you have seen when he couldn't shield you away from it all.
It takes awhile for him to fall into calmness, his chest rises and falls normally, eyes no longer blown out as his hands trace along the length of your back.
When you feel him kiss the crown of your head, you look up at him with soft eyes, chin placed on his chest but careful enough as to not poke him.
“Do you want some water?”
Hobie shakes his head, lips pressed together as he sighs.
“Do you want to talk about it? I heard it helps.” You whisper, softer than your own gaze.
“Did the town shrink tell you that?” He had to clear his dry throat, sniffing at the cold morning air.
“Actually she did.” You roll your eyes. “Let me get you some water, you sound like you smoked a whole pack.”
His hand upon your hips makes you stop in place. “Y’know, I stopped smokin’ for you.”
“Only because you couldn't find any smokes out in the wild anymore.” You look at him with a smile as he glues you atop him with his hands firmly upon your hips. “You need to drink.”
“In a minute, I need to keep lookin’ at you like this.” Tone softening, eyes tenderly staring up at you as the sun blankets around you like a heavenly glow, he tucks the nightmare in the back of his mind. “Not even the apocalypse could make you less fit, lovie.”
Chuckling, you lean down to nudge his nose with your own. “Still a charmer in the end of the world I see.”
Humming, eyes closed, he savours your warmth. “Only for you.”
“Hobie,” you move a bit further away, hands braced on the side of his head, eyes filled with worry. “Do you want to tell me what you dreamt?”
Inhaling, his hands squeeze the plush of your hips before gently pushing you back down to rest upon him. “It was you, I dreamt that I turned and I— you were my first. I felt the way my nails dug into your skin, love. It's a fucked up dream.”
“A nightmare, and it's not real,” your thumb rubs along his jaw. “And it'll never be real, we're safe here.”
“But what if—”
“None of that.” You lean away abruptly, hands cupping his face as your eyes look at him sternly. “Don't think like that, Hobie.”
“Love,” he swallows thickly, hands reaching up to hold your face carefully as if his touch alone could crumble you into dust. “Jus’ promise me—”
“Hobie—”
“Jus’ promise that it won't come to that. Please, I wouldn't be able to live with myself.” There's conflict behind those eyes that he loves so much, lips wobbling as you reluctantly nod. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Hobie, you know that.” Your head meets his chest once again, hugging him tightly as you press your lips on his bare skin. “Can you have one session with the therapist, please? Just one is all I ask.”
“Will that make you happy?”
You meet with his eyes with a small smile. “Immensely.”
“That's a big word, sounds like she does help.” Hobie teases, poking your side.
“She's a therapist not a vocabulary teacher.” Chuckling, you kiss his chin. “Can I give you that water now?”
Nudging your nose, he leans closer despite the crick in the neck he might get from it. “After this kiss, I promise.”
“I can live with that.” You smile against his lips.
Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader
Word Count: 5.6k
Synopsis: Hobie's stuck in a time loop where he keeps seeing you die over and over again. He tries to find a way to escape the loop, at the same time saving you from your fate.
Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, TW death, TW injuries, TW violence, established relationship. Time loop AU, angst.
My masterlist
* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*
Hobie opens his eyes, the blinding light from the early morning sun mixed with the smell of burning breakfast wakes him up instantly. He jumps off the bed running towards the smell.
His body feels heavy somehow, his lungs sit weirdly in his chest, his eyes wide and alert. It's like he swung around the city while asleep.
He shakes it off attributing it to not sleeping well. Shutting off the stove he sighs at the burnt omelet. He briefly sees the clock on the stove in his peripheral- 8:00 am
Good thing he reached the kitchen before the fire alarm went off, he grabbed a nearby rag to fan away the smoke. Suddenly hearing wet feet squelch across the wooden floors, Hobie instinctively looks towards it.
"Fuck, the eggs!" You run around the corner in your bathrobe, your hair wrapped in a fluffy towel. Running too fast on your wet feet, you slide across the floor, hitting your hip against the table. You're sure it would leave a nasty bruise.
"It's too early to burn down the flat, don't you think so, love?" Hobie puts his hands on his hips, annoyed that he woke up so early. Sweats hang low on his waist, an old band shirt ripped at the sleeves, his arms and midriff on full display.
"Ow, sorry Hob," you rub your aching hip, "I'm sorry I woke you up, grumpy" you close the small distance.
"You better be sorry," he grabs you by the waist, inching his hand toward the hastily wrapped belt of your bathrobe. "I'm still bloody tired" he says with a yawn.
"Aww, my poor baby Hobie," you cup his cheeks, "let me kiss it better" you peck the corner of his eye, your soap and strawberry scented shampoo fills his senses.
While you're distracted, he slowly unties your robe. Noticing the sly movement, you grab at Hobie's wrist. "Tsk tsk. Not today, babe. First day at my new job, remember?"
"Ah shit, that's today?"
"Yep, can't be late" you kiss his lips quickly before he escalates things. "You can go back to bed, I'll see you tonight" you push yourself off Hobie.
"Good luck" he pulls you back by your hand, "remember they're lucky to have you, not the other way around" Hobie kisses your knuckles while looking into your eyes.
You chuckle, "I know what you're doing, Hobie Brown. It's not gonna work"
"Worth a shot" he finally lets you go.
The doorbell rings, both of you looking at the intrusion. Who could that be this early?
"I've got it, Love. Can't have you answering the door in your robe can I?" Hobie winks at you tiredly, which makes his eyelid move slowly.
"Very sexy, babe" you shake your head as you head back towards the bathroom.
Grabbing the door, he sees your neighbour mid knock.
"Ohh, hey!" He looks disappointed "Morning neighbour!" Hobie winces at how chipper this man is this early in the morning.
"What is it?" Hobie asks flatly, leaning on the doorway.
"Ah," he subtly looks behind Hobie "do you have any sugar, white preferably. You see I'm making ensaymada -"
"Wait there" Hobie cuts him off, disinterested at whatever information he was about to share. He just wants to go back to bed.
He shuts the door with a bang.
"Who's at the door?" Your muffled voice rings out.
"No one, just your neighbour!" Hobie yells out so that the man outside hears it.
He grabs a bag of sugar from your pantry, Hobie opens the door, quickly handing it off.
"Thanks! Can you tell-" He gets shut down again when Hobie closes the door in his face.
"Welcome"
Hobie plops himself back on the bed, he groans when his back cracks. He falls asleep to the sound of your humming.
--
Chaos rains downtown, buildings crumble around Hobie while he pursues Green goblin. Everything went bad so fast, he didn't see it coming. Green goblin cackles menacingly while she randomly throws bombs below her hoverboard.
She went completely off the rails when Hobie got a few punches in, desperate to get away, she just started chucking random stuff at him, conveniently one of them was a bomb. The explosion threw him off, Goblin got a few blocks ahead of him, but Hobie's determined.
He swings after the flash of green, he hears the familiar chime of big ben - 6:00pm
Goblin leads him towards the tower bridge, it's packed with vehicles because of the rush hour, that's not good.
"Catch, Spider-Punk!" Goblin chucks another bomb below her, she clearly knows this one will surely cause chaos on the bridge.
With his quick thinking, Hobie grabs the bomb with his web, slinging it away from the crowd below. A shockwave resonates through the old bridge, its old wiring swings letting out a metallic groan. puffs of green smoke cloud above the area.
Hobie hears screams below him, looking down he sees the crowd scrambling away from danger. His senses send electricity through him, he looks back toward Goblin, she's now just hovering in place, in both of her hands she holds belts full of spherical bombs, she holds it against the edge of her hoverboard, threatening to let go.
"Don't you dare!" Hobie webs up both of the belts holding the spheres, ready to fling it away. Before he could do just that, the clips holding the bombs give out, time seems to slow down as Hobie watches in horror, the little balls of destruction falling down like rain. Goblin's shrill laugh pierces Hobie's ear drums.
He ignores the crazy lady, instead he goes after the green orbs. He webs as much as he can reach, quickly throwing them off the bridge, they go off the second they hit the water below. He keeps repeating this process till he's sure he got all of them out.
He lands breathlessly on the concrete, he points towards the nearest end of the bridge, guiding the remaining people off the bridge. Roaming his eyes above to see where Goblin could be.
His senses go off again, Hobie's ears perk up towards the faint ticking sound. He sees the ball bounce off a taxi, it doesn't go off, instead it just lands down the concrete with a clink. He eases up a bit, figuring it might be a dud. Until he looks inside the black taxi, Hobie sees your terrified face against the taxi's window, you're struggling to open the door.
Electricity pulses through him, sounding off alarms. The whites of his mask widen when the sphere stops ticking.
It's not defective, it was just counting down.
You finally notice him, frozen in fear. He tries to reach you, but the shockwave from the explosion stops him, Knocking him down.
The sheer force of the explosion flips the taxi, tethering close to the edge of the bridge. Green smoke covers Hobie's vision, he can barely make out the silhouette of the dark car, he throws caution into the wind, he doesn't look for more ticking bombs, instead he quickly runs toward the creaking metal.
He finally reaches you, as the car finally falls. Hobie quickly webs up the trunk of the car sticking its end on stagnant cars, and columns. He hears your muffled screams inside the deathtrap.
"Hobie!" You desperately scream for him, clinging to the car's headrest, the taxi swings against the wind. You can see him trying to pull you up.
Seeing Goblin wreaking havoc, you see her throw more bombs towards fleeing civilians, you make the conscious decision to yell at him to help them instead.
"Hobie! On your left!" Your throat burns trying to get his attention.
Thanks to his spidey senses and your desperate pleas, Hobie understands quickly, he ties the web he's holding onto a nearby truck, hopeful that it sticks until he can get you out.
"I can do both" Hobie whispers
He yanks Goblin down from her hoverboard with one precise shot of his web, she falls hard on the concrete. In one swift movement Hobie grabs his guitar on his back, using it as a bat, he swings it against the ticking bombs, before its countdown ends.
They explode in mid air, green clouds rain over the historic bridge.
Hobie runs back to you, on his way he notices that Goblin recovered and is nowhere to be seen. He'll find her later, right now he needs to save you.
He swings towards the edge where he last saw you, the only thing he sees is the cold rushing water swallowing the taxi.
His breath hitches in his throat. His knees threatened to collapse under his weight.
"No, not you" he weakly says.
Before he follows you towards the black depths, Hobie sees the Green Goblin rise up from under the bridge right in front of him, a sickenly bloody smile on her face.
"Got your little birdy, spidey" she shakes your terrified form, her claw-covered hand covers the bottom half of your face painfully, your feet floating a few inches off her board.
"Mmph!" You yelp for him as you try to reach him with your hands.
"Let them go! Or I swear I will tear you apart!" Hobie barks out, he doesn't recognize his own voice.
"Oh, okay!"
Your terrified eyes look back at him.
One minute you were in Goblin's hand, the next you were falling to your demise.
Electricity cackles around Hobie, he leaps off the edge, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Shooting a web towards you, he curses gravity, his web merely a hair's width away from your form. Your fingertips graze its ends.
Your head hits the water in a horrible cracking sound.
A cold splash hits Hobie's masked face, he braces for impact.
The water hits him like a truck, but he shakes it off, adrenaline pulses in his body like never before. He tries to find your form under the dark water.
It's dark and quiet under, the only thing he could hear is his own heart thumping in his chest. He hopes to hear yours too.
He roams his eyes, his eyes squinted looking for your familiar silhouette. Hobie finally spots you, slowly floating down towards the endless void. He swims down as fast as his limbs could, his air is running out, he's afraid yours might be too.
He grabs hold of your arm, Hobie quickly brings you against his chest, he ignores the absent beating of your heart.
Reaching the surface was an uphill battle, but he finally got you out. Stopping by the riverbank, he doesn't waste any time doing CPR.
He dares to look at your face, Hobie lets out a pained sound when he sees your dull eyes looking up at nothing, your lips slowly turning blue. He counts in his head to keep track of his chest compressions.
15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24
" C'mon lovey, breathe for me please"
25 26 27 28 29
Your lips are now a harsh blue color, he whispers your name like a prayer.
30
He quickly puts his lips on yours to breathe into it, he does it twice, desperation increasing in every breath he gives you. He counts again.
10 11 12 13 14 15
He lets out a pained sob, he bites his lips to stop more from coming out.
16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25
"I can fix this" he ignores the aching in his arms.
26 27 28 29 30
He breathes into you again and again. He takes a step back to examine you, no reaction.
Desperation, fear and anger flows through every crevice of his body. But his mind fills with you, only you.
He takes his stance again-
Silence
Searing pain ebbs out of his chest, crimson flows from the wound, Hobie finds himself impaled on Goblin's hoverboard, his back trapped in between a wall. Green Goblin lets out a victory screech.
He groans out, his blood seeps through his mouth, gagging on it.
He's dying.
How poetic he thought, dying mere minutes after you. You once joked that you're soulmates, he now thinks you're right.
"I DID IT, I KILLED SPIDER-PUNK!" Her laugh slowly fades away, like he's walking away from her.
He imagines that he does and instead of your lifeless body waiting for him, he imagines that you're standing there, smiling at him. His only wish is that you both end up at the same place.
Big Ben's clock rings out again.
"I should've tried harder," He murmurs. Darkness embraces him like an old friend.
>
Hobie opens his eyes, sunlight tears his red eyes open. He quickly sits up breathless. He grabs his chest, kneading it with his knuckles. He smells something burning.
Hobie gets up, heading towards the smell. He stares at the pan - omelette or what it used to be an omelette.
"Fuck, the eggs!" You run around the corner in your bathrobe, Running too fast on your wet feet, you slide across the floor, almost hitting your hip against the table. Hobie stops you mid slide with his web shooters. You would've hit the table pretty hard.
Why did he know that?
You look towards Hobie looking dumbfounded. "Hobie, why are you just standing there? Turn it off!"
He snaps out of his stupor, turning down the knob he looks at you, his breathing heavy.
"Shit, sorry for yelling, Hob" you grab a rag to fan the smoke out.
You look at Hobie, he has a weird look on his face. He hugs you suddenly, his face landing on the crook of your neck. Hobie recognizes the smell of your soap and strawberry scented shampoo, he takes a deep breath.
That was just a dream, right?
"You better be sorry"
"Aw, my poor baby Hobie, did I wake you up with my culinary skills?" You rub his cheek with your thumb, "I'm sorry I woke you up, grumpy. Let me kiss it better" you crane your neck to peck the side of his head.
Just a dream, right?
Hobie anxiously fiddles with the belt around your robe, you take it as flirting. "Tsk tsk. Not today, babe. First day at my new job, remember?"
You pull away from his warmth, cupping his face, you look directly at his eyes. Hobie briefly sees your lifeless eyes staring back at him.
You take his lack of response to being sleep deprived. "Can't be late" you kiss his lips "You can go back to bed, I'll see you tonight" you push yourself off Hobie.
He calls after you, "remember they're lucky to have you, not the other way -" your doorbell rings.
"Could you get that for me?"
Grabbing the door, he sees your neighbour mid knock.
"Ohh, hey!" He looks behind Hobie completely ignoring him, staring at your bathrobe clad body "Morning neighbour!"
You wave at him awkwardly while you fix your robe to cover yourself up more.
Hobie notices, his eye twitches at the realization. He closes the door slightly, so he's blocking the creepy neighbor from you.
"What is it?" Hobie asks flatly, leaning on the doorway.
"Ah," he subtly tries to take a peek at you behind Hobie "do you have any sugar, white preferably. You see I'm making ensaymada -"
Hobie's ears perk at the last word. He stares at the man suspiciously.
"What did you say?"
"Ensaymada, it's a pastry with-"
"I know what the fuck that is, it's their favourite, why the fuck-"
A dream, right?
"Wait there" Hobie cuts him off, he shuts the door with a bang.
He grabs a bag of sugar from your pantry, Hobie opens the door, tossing it off.
"Oof, Thanks! Can you tell-" He gets shut down again when Hobie closes the door in his face.
Hobie slowly walks back towards the bedroom, he sits on the foot of your bed. He feels tired, wondering what the hell is happening to him. He lifts his shirt to look at his chest, no sign of a wound. He looks around your room, nothing seems out of place, it's the same cream colored walls, the same bed, and dresser, the same lab coat hangs on it, ready for your first day at work.
Hobie plops down, his muscles aching for relief, he starts to drift back to sleep, until he hears you humming the same tune, in the same cadence. Hobie's eyes open in a flash.
"This already happened"
–-
Hobie goes about his day, knowing what happens today, he has the advantage. He can save you this time.
Hobie anticipates every move Goblin makes, he dodges everything she throws at him. Bombs still get thrown about, but now he has the time to react before it causes chaos.
She can't get a single hit in, watching every precise movement he makes, knowing her every move before she even does, it terrified her, so she just flies away crossing the Thames, she sees an opportunity to stop Spider-Punk from chasing her.
Goblin in her desperation, haphazardly throws every single one of her bombs below, Hobie tries to fling them away but he couldn't stop every single one of them from detonating. Loud booms and green smoke cover the iconic bridge.
What did he do wrong?
Spotting you from above, Hobie dive bombs towards you, he's a few feet above you, he reaches out to you, your fingers brush against each other as a bomb explodes near your feet.
>
Hobie opens his eyes, he feels a harsh heat staying on his face, like a lingering taste.
"FUCK!" He screams, "this can't be happening" he holds his head in his hands.
"Babe you okay?" You come out of the bathroom, smoke fills Hobie's nostrils like some kind of cruel joke.
"No! My breakfast!" You rush out.
He follows you, as you fan away the fumes, Hobie hugs you from behind.
"Hey grumpy, sorry about that" you lean against his chest, you crane your neck so he could slip his head on the crook of it.
Hobie smells your familiar scent along with a hint of smoke, he promises into your skin that he would try harder to save you, no matter how many tries it takes him.
"Are you okay? You seem out of it"
"Just tired, lovey"
"You know that I love you, right? I'm right here, you can tell me anything"
"I know"
He left your flat at the same time as you, following closely behind your cab. He's paranoid that Goblin knows that she's in a loop too and might try to get the upper hand.
Hobie finds Goblin before she could find him. He leaves her body beaten on the pavement.
How she reacts with his questions with every angry hit, it's safe to say, she doesn't know about the day resetting.
Hobie continues on throughout the day, Big Ben rings its bell - 6:00pm
This time instead of the Green Goblin surprising him, it's the Vulture.
They fight, and eventually end up on the bridge. They clash against each other, Hobie doesn't have the advantage of precognition this time, but what he has is pure unadulterated anger.
Hobie tries everything, but you still fall. Grasping your limp body, he lets the vulture take his revenge.
The clock chimes again
>
Hobie opens his eyes. This time he doesn't waste time, he swings away immediately, leaving you confused.
He finds Goblin, then the Vulture, but still another Villain replaces them.
Hobie almost beats the Lizard but alas with his enhanced healing he gets up over and over again. Hobie, exhausted and bleeding, watches you cradle his limp body, Lizard's massive shadow falls over you.
You both die in the hands of the Lizard.
>47
Hobie opens his eyes, he starts to count how many times he looped back.
No matter how he keeps killing and trapping all the villains that somehow keeps replacing each other on that bridge. More and more obscure ones start filling the role of your murderer. They seemed endless.
You and Hobie have been impaled, electrocuted, burned, and tossed into a vacuum of space. And yet he keeps coming back to the same day, on the same bed, waking up to the same smell.
He ignores it, he wonders what he did to deserve this. Seeing you die over and over again is hell. That must be it, he's in hell, he doesn't believe in it, but after hearing your pained screams, and countless times he tried to revive you, he's starting to believe in it.
You jump out of the shower, running towards your stove, you don't notice him awake.
After seeing you alive and well, he's sure this isn't hell, because if it is you wouldn't be in it.
>81
He tries something new, he confronts your weird neighbor, he lets his anger get the best of him. Hobie dumps the bag of sugar on his head, letting it fall on him like snowflakes.
You still drown, he still gets killed by Goblin.
>104
He wakes up with anger boiling inside him. Why can't he save you? Why is he so slow? Why can't he figure out what's causing this time loop? He lashes out on you leaving you sobbing on your floor.
You die in his arms this time, thinking that he doesn't love you.
He curses himself, as he lets the uncontrollable fire consume him.
>141
He invents various gadgets made from scrap, to aid him in fighting. He wasted the entire day creating them.
Hobie uses them once, but he still fails. You still fall, he gets burned.
At least he gets to bring his hardwork in the next loop right?
>142
Hobie opens his eyes, his gadgets are nowhere to be found.
He curses his optimism.
>173
He has every villain's attack pattern memorized and predicted, he stares at Vulture's lifeless body on the pavement.
He finally beat one on the bridge.
Breathless he looks behind him, he stares at your wide eyes, your white lab coat is a stark comparison to the chaos around you.
He did it, now to get you home.
Hobie was just staring at you, in a split second, you're hanging from Goblin's hoverboard, the sharp end of it sticking out of your chest.
"NO!"
Goblin laughs as she throws numerous bombs at him, Hobie falls on the bridge, his right arm no more.
"I almost had it" he weakly says as the dark waters of the Thames engulf him.
>212
Hobie's falling apart at the seams.
>237
Hobie opens his eyes, his muscles feel like they're being torn away from his bones. His eyes grow heavier with every revival. His ears are still ringing from the bell's endless chiming.
He needs help, so he goes after you in the kitchen. "Hey" he says morosely.
"G'morning, grumpy-" you turn around, gasping at the sight. Taking in his slouched posture, sunken eyes, his signature smirk notably absent. He looks exhausted.
"Hobie?" You ask, as if you weren't sure it's really him. "What happened? Are you okay?" You slowly close the distance, careful not to startle him.
"Baby?" Grabbing his shoulders, he falls forward with a thud.
"I think-" he clings to you "I think I did something wrong"
Your heart breaks for him "could you tell me what it is?"
He pulls away "I'm stuck, I don't know what to do" he cups your face, for a second, he sees blood covering it, your once bright eyes turning white, then your face comes back to normal "Please, help me"
"Let's sit down, yeah?" You lead him towards your emerald couch. Was it always this colour? It reminds him of the smoke billowing from Goblin's bombs.
He puts on a brave face, "what I'm about to tell you sounds crazy, but please stay with me" and so he tells you everything, starting from the beginning to end.
He thought not telling you of your death might help you swallow it down better, so he doesn't, instead Hobie tells you that he keeps dying over and over again.
After rambling you look at him, emotion unreadable on your face.
"I believe you," you kiss his hollow cheeks "I believe you" you put your forehead against his, grounding him to reality.
"I'm so fucking sorry, it didn't work out, our plan" he murmurs.
"What? Hobie, how many times have you asked for my help?" You pull away, cringing at your tone, he might interpret it as anger.
"This is the thirteenth time"
Your breath hitches in your throat.
"Every single time I've told you, you always believed me, not once you didn't. But I've never asked you, why do you always help me?"
"Because, I love you, Hobie Brown. You could tell me that whales could walk on land, or the sky is falling and I would believe you"
For Hobie the sky IS falling, every time he sees you die, his world ends, and he's powerless to stop it.
"I have every reason to help you, because I can't lose you"
That's a first from you. Hobie never thought of it that way. He was too focused on saving you that he forgot to save himself.
Hobie thinks of something he has never done before in a couple of hundred rotations.
"So, what if we don't do anything? We just stay here, doing nothing" Hobie asks.
"We've never done that before?"
"Never, it could work. Us staying out of danger" determination sparks in his eyes.
"Then let's do just that" you smile.
Hope sparks in Hobie's veins. It has to work.
So you don't do anything all day, you don't go to work, he doesn't do his patrol, Hobie doesn't open the door.
You do your usual things at home, eating together, cleaning the flat to pass the time, savoring each other's presence.
Hobie feels his soul slowly get stitched back together again. This could work.
Your alarm rings out, he glimpses at it 6:00pm
His heart thumps in his chest loudly, he's sure you could hear it too from where you're cuddling into him. You make a fist, before rubbing your knuckles over his chest, your way of calming him down.
You're both gonna make it to tomorrow, he's sure of it.
"I don't know how this could end, but I want you to know that I love you so fucking much. If we make it to tomorrow, know that I will continue loving you every day" he wipes a lone tear on your cheek. "If we keep reliving the same day over again, I will love you in every cycle"
You crane your neck to kiss him, he closes his eyes in anticipation. Your lips never reached his.
>238
Hobie opens his eyes, He lets out a guttural scream.
You rush out of the bathroom, concerned.
He tells you what's happening again.
You have the brilliant idea to leave, just leave the city till the sun rises the next day.
You borrow a car from a friend, grabbing a few necessities, you drive off.
Hobie watches you from the passenger seat, the sun bathes you in its light, giving you a halo of soft light around your head. He smiles tiredly, this could be it.
Once the two of you hit the outskirts of London, darkness wraps him in an embrace.
>239
Hobie opens his eyes.
They tried a train this time. Everything seems to be moving smoothly.
Until the train skids to a violent stop, derailing it. Bags and people start flying around. He tries to web them into place.
He grabs your body shielding you. The train lights shut off, bathing them in darkness while their bodies get thrashed around.
Hobie hears a harsh cracking sound.
The train finally stops, its emergency light turns on, he sees you in his arms bathed in the dim light. Why are your eyes closed?
Hobie feels something warm hit his hand, He lifts his hand away from the back of your head, gore covers his hand. Hot crimson seeps into his clothes.
Not again.
Why does he need to see this again?
Why?
Hobie weeps, as he cradles your body. He lifts his head towards nothing but at the same time looking at you.
"Why aren't you helping me?! Why are you just sitting there watching all of this-"
>240
Hobie opens his eyes. The blinding light from the early morning sun mixed with the smell of burning breakfast wakes him up instantly. He jumps off the bed running towards the smell.
>276
He hates that he's getting desensitized everytime you breathe your last.
But no matter how many times he changes some things, he will always try to save you.
Hobie's exhausted, he feels his mind get numb with every rotation.
He feels like he's watching himself, like a ghost haunting his own body.
>348
He's accepted it, after numerous times trying to get out, he accepts his fate.
Hobie convinces you to stay home and spend time with him, he doesn't tell you why, but by just looking at him, you know he needs you now more than ever. So you stay.
The rigmarole starts where he convinces you to remain home, Hobie keeps you close, you do the exact same things together until it's time for the reset.
>349
He does this over
>356
And over
>381
Again.
>391
He stares at your blue walls, was it always blue?
Your neighbour doesn't knock anymore.
>414
He notices things looking different, your once pristine oak table now looks old.
Your white lab coat is now a slight yellow.
Your kitchen ceiling is covered in soot.
What's happening?
>449
Hobie can't help but look back at you burning a hole on the side of his head with your stares.
"What is it, love?" His voice hoarse.
"You don't look too well Hobie, are you okay?" Concern fills your voice. He pretends this is the first time you've asked him that question.
"Of course I'm okay"
Liar.
"Shut up" He blurts out.
"It's just that you haven't smiled the entire day. I'm sorry, okay, I- I'll drop it" tears prick your eyes.
"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't- I wasn't- fuck" he rubs his tired face.
"Please tell me what's bothering you" you sniff.
You're met with silence.
"You know I love you right?" You rub his arm, comforting him.
Those three words wake him up. He remembers now, his promise to you. But it comes with a harsh realization.
"I don't think I can save you"
He tells you everything, your deaths, every violent end, every pain that could've been prevented.
Every single cycle.
You look at him, tears threatening to spill out. "You've spent a hundred lifetimes with me?"
"I'm sorry for being selfish" he hugs you tightly, your body shaking. You finally let the tears fall. "I'm so fucking sorry"
You spend a moment in his arms, contemplating your own end.
"Hobie," you reluctantly pull away, "promise me something, okay?" He nods "promise me you'll let go?"
"We-I can keep trying"
"No, you have to stop. You need to go on without me" you cup his face "Don't let me stop you from moving forward" you kiss every inch of his face to soften the blow.
"I don't think I can," his eyes shine with unshed tears.
"Yes, you can, eventually" a sob breaks out of you "eventually you will, just don't you dare ever forget that I love you so much it hurts"
You duck your head to meet his eyes "promise me in the next cycle, don't tell me anything, and you can't convince me to stay with you the entire day, okay?" You wipe his tears with your thumb "you let it happen, just like the first time"
Tears flow out of you freely. He guides you to meet his lips one last time, memorizing every second of it. "I promise. Wait for me, yeah?"
"I'll wait for you no matter how long it takes"
Your alarm rings out.
>450
Hobie's eyes open. He jumps out of bed, turning off the stove before smoke could billow out. Hobie prepares your omelette for you.
He watches you eat happily. Hobie takes a mental picture of the scene.
He lets it happen, no matter how much it hurts his soul, but he promised you, so he lets you go.
You fall.
He fights Goblin until she can't fight him anymore.
Hobie wins, but your life is forfeit. Did he even win when he can't even fulfill the promise he made hundreds of rotations ago?
He dives after your body, he knows you're already gone the second your head hits the water.
Hobie places you on the same riverbank like he has done a hundred times before.
Hobie rubs his knuckles over your heart, he says his final goodbye. "I'll see you when I get there"
He hears sirens coming towards the riverbank, you'll be okay.
He hears the familiar bell.
Hobie swings back home to your flat. His knees give out from under him. He falls on your bed with a thud, sleep hits his exhausted body.
—
Hobie opens his eyes, your telephone rings endlessly in the living room. No burning smell, no hint of strawberry in the air.
He looks at your clock- 11:00 the new date mocking him in red numbers.
Hobie did it, he broke free but now he has to live in a world where you don't exist anymore. Your promise echoes in his ears like a mantra.
A/n: I've hc'd that Hobie would definitely find out he's in a time loop by the second reset lol. Hope you liked it! Likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️
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Hii, dear🧡🧡 Congrats on your three year anniversary😍 I've been here for a little while but immediately loved your vibes🤌🏻
May I request a "Then comes a baby in a baby carriage" with our man Lyonel and little Juniper? I've been thinking smth along the lines how he wants to be helpful. And he spends lots of time in the library in secret, looking for info about the usual baby stuff-teething, colic,etc🤭💞
Thank you so much bestie!! I had so much fun writing this prompt 🤭
Pairing: Lyonel Baratheon x fem! Reader/ The Laughing Storm x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.1k
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader except for clothing, established relationship, Arryn! Reader, husband! Lyonel, dad! Lyonel, fluff!
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Lyonel Baratheon Masterlist
3rd year anniversary celebration 🎉
My requests are open!
You come out of the bath looking for your husband. Lyonel is usually on the shaded bed waiting for you with the same smirk and twinkle in his eye, hoping to get lucky that night. But you found the bed empty, sheets still made, and your husband nowhere to be seen.
Sighing, your lower back aches, still weighing heavy even after the birth. Despite your exhaustion, you grab a cloak to tie around your shoulders and over your slip as you head for your daughter’s nursery. If Lyonel isn’t in the shared chambers, surely he would be there watching over her like usual. Recently, he has taken to watching Juniper sleep for a few minutes after you have placed her down on her cot. With a keen eye, he watches little Juniper’s chest rise and fall protectively, and with his hand gently grasping onto her tiny foot.
But when you enter the nursery, you don’t find him there, nor your daughter inside her cot. Your mind must still be addled by the unbalanced humours from the birth, but you were sure that you have put Juniper to bed. You would ask her nursemaid but she would already be fast asleep. So you take a candle from the table and set off to find your family within the vast keep.
Storm’s End is much gloomier and greyer at night. As if there are ghosts lingering around the halls whilst the storm winds howl outside. But you continue on, a hand hitching the skirt of your slip whilst the other keeps the candle upright. No ghosts will stop you from finding them.
As you go through the winding hallway with numerous sculpted Baratheon ancestors on the walls, you see a light flickering from the open doors of the library.
Slowly, you peek inside, seeing a lone figure hunched over a table filled with dozens of thick tomes as the shadow sways softly like a ship on gentle tides.
“You’re well fed, changed, and thank the seven you’re not ill.” Lyonel’s voice whispers at the bundle in his arms. “Gods be good, Juniper, why won’t you sleep, hm? Have you no mercy for your poor mother and father?”
Your giggle takes his attention. His head immediately moves towards the source, the corner of his lips tugging into the signature Lyonel smile that you adore. “Your daughter is petulant.”
“My daughter?” You slowly walk across the threshold and over to him, tender gaze never leaving him. “She is yours as she is mine. And our daughter is merely a month old, it is impossible for her to be petulant.”
“She takes after you.” He utters affectionately.
“She looks the most like you, my love.”
You expect for him to hand the babe over to you, too tired to carry her or too annoyed, so you reach for her, but instead of giving the babe over to you, Lyonel leans her away from your waiting arms. He pouts, brows furrowed at you, as if you have offended him and his child caring skills.
“No, this is my duty, I shall not hand her to you until she has fallen asleep in my arms.” He even dramatically turns her away from you as you bite your lip to hinder the laugh in your throat.
Meanwhile, Juniper gurgles in her father’s arms, legs kicking about under her swaddle as her tiny hand grasps onto Lyonel’s doublet.
“She was already asleep when I placed her down in her cot.” Raising a brow, you accuse him of waking her up just so he could put her to sleep himself, an act he sees through as a jest.
“I did not wake her up.” Defending himself, Lyonel, points accusingly at you. “Mayhaps you didn’t put her to sleep well enough. When I went to check on her she was gurgling and kicking about happily. Now I’m not a midwife but that was a very awake child.”
“Babes wake up for no reason, my love.” You answer lovingly, taking a good look at the tome he was reading. Some of them have dust on the covers, the books seem to have been there for quite some time. And each one is about childbirth or anything pertaining to raising children. Your eyes glistens with unshed tears when you look back at your husband. “You’ve been reading…”
“Contrary to the whispers, I know how to read.”
“Oh, my sweet Lyonel.” Your hands reach out to him, and he meets you halfway, placing his face in your open palms as you cradle his face. “You were learning how to raise our Juniper.” Cooing, Lyonel feels good when he’s the one on the receiving end of your cooing for once.
“Of course, I have.” He says matter-of-factly, eyes closing as your thumbs run along his cheek lovingly. “I can’t let you have all the glory.”
Grinning, you pull his face closer to your own, nudging his nose with yours sweetly. Gods, you want another babe with him. Especially if they’ll have his nose too and his smile.
“Oh, you’re already doing so well, my stag.” The reassurance fills his chest with warmth, the same warmth he feels whenever you place his head on your chest in bed so he could sleep soundly, the same warmth he feels whenever Juniper holds his finger in her tiny hand. “Juniper is lucky to have you as her father.” Peppering his face with kisses, you kiss every inch of his face until you see him give you a lopsided smile.
Pulling away, Lyonel immediately misses your lips upon his skin. “Tell me more about how good I am.”
“You’re doing marvelously, my love.” A grin spreads across his handsome face, beaming at you as his hand pats Juniper to sleep. “How about I accompany you here whenever you read? We could learn together.” Your hands don’t leave his side, holding him and Juniper close.
“That is a tremendous idea, my wife, but you and I both know that there won’t be much reading when we are left to our own devices.” His dark eyes sparkle with something familiar.
You make a face, chortling under your breath, “that is true.” Chuckling, you go to check Juniper in his arms, only to find that the quiet wasn’t just because she’s safely tucked in and content in her father’s arms, but because she has finally fallen asleep. “Look at that, you did it, she’s asleep.”
Lyonel looks at his daughter and grins from ear to ear, as if he just unhorsed another Targaryen. “I did it.” He says it with triumph, that you want to paint his expression on a canvas to look at it whenever you please. “It’s all because I’ve been reading.”
“I am sure it was.” Taking his hand and the candle on the other, you lead him out. “Now come and put her back to her cot so we may do some reading of our own.”
Who is he to say no? “Yes, my love.” He gladly follows your lead.
See, but I kinda like Harry. Harry is a little loser and a pathetic daddy's boy that i might be able to fix🙂↕️ I LOATHEEEEEEE THAT BITCH AERION THO🤬🤬🤬
Hello my loves I have some new stuff coming soon! I've got a what if fic with aerion and lady arryn where she married him instead of lyonel, a backrooms fic with bobby 😉😉 that I've been working my ass off to finish this week lmao another sneak peek of the dad! Lyonel fic before I post it this weekend and a couple of hobie reqs!!!
You've been told that you'll learn to love him, and the ladies of the court giggle and whisper about how much your loving husband dotes on you, always so caring, caressing you, eyes never straying too far from you. But you only tolerate him, and yet somehow, in some odd misshapen way, Aerion Targaryen is utterly devoted to you.
He's in love, but you wouldn't call it that when you've seen real love from your father and mother, and you've felt it with Lyonel. Whatever Aerion feels for you, it's an obsession. He's obsessed with you, desiring you. A year of marriage with him and you thought it would wane, but no, it only grew.
And he'd whispered atop your sweaty skin, right above your pulse and say, “mine, all mine.” His grip never loosened, nor his kisses ever felt light. As if he's trying to carve his name inside of you, right in your very soul. Trying to have you forget every other hand that has touched you.
But there's a part of you that knows his obsession would soon fade because you are not Valyrian, you do not share his features, and you do not have his blood. One day he'll get bored of you. What would he do to you once he's grown tired of you? Would he discard you?
The place looks like an abandoned office space, the ceiling and the lights on it reminds you of one. The damp carpet underneath your feet squishes with every step, the soles of your old shoes could feel how chilly it is, how off it feels.
As you move forward carefully, still filming, and taking quick peeks at your screen, the image looks as clear as day. This place is real, and you're exploring it like how one would explore a friend's house for the first time. Quiet steps, making sure you don't bump into anything that could break lest you get kicked out of the house before you could even hang out.
Your hand touches the walls, it feels smooth, the wallpaper doesn't feel weird, it's room temperature, a tad colder probably, but nothing out of the ordinary like you thought. But as you stay still, feeling the wall, really laying your whole palm atop it, there's a vibration underneath your skin. Like a hum, like the place breathes. It sings.
Slowly, you move your head towards it, it calls to you.
Your husband opens his free arm to receive the babe. Despite the crick in his neck from staring at reports all day long and the dull ache in the small of his back, he takes both children in his arms gladly, before sauntering over to you.
The sun is overshadowed by the looming Laughing Storm as he beams down upon you with equal warmth.
“Let us hope that she gets your ferocity.” He plops himself down on the blanket, wincing at the heaviness of his own body, head immediately falling down your lap as he settles comfortably with both his children on each arm.
“She already has it, my love. She called the septa a horrid word today.”
“Ah, just like your mother, hm?”
He doesn't have the guts just yet to tell Yuri that the lacy underwear she found in his houseboat was yours, or that the extra toothbrush in your flat right beside your own wasn't an old toothbrush that you use to clean the toilet but it's his. Yuri has become hyper vigilant ever since he saw a sock underneath your couch that was clearly not yours. She thinks you're hiding a new man from her, and she really wants to meet him to be the judge of his character. But she doesn't know that she already met the guy and is in the same band as hers.
Yuri's been pestering you about it, whilst Ned and James want to hear about the mystery girl Hobie's been having around the houseboat. One time they went to his place to write some songs together whilst you two were making out on his bed and you had to hide inside his bedroom for three hours. Your bladder was about to burst when they finally left.
Turning to face Hobie's side of the bed, you see it empty through your sleep heavy eyes. A hand pats the sheets, feeling it cold underneath your touch. You get a glimpse of the clock, and the glaring red numbers read three AM. Why in the world is Hobie frantically sewing at three in the morning when he could've been cuddling you instead?
Blinking away the sleep in your eyes, you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and slowly make your way to the bedroom door. It creaks as you open it, and not even the sound gets his attention away from his sewing project that couldn't possibly wait in the morning.
“Hobie…” your voice cracks from the slumber, even so, he still doesn't notice you. “Baby, why are you up?” Shuffling on the cold floor, you cross the distance over to him, a hand reaching for his shoulder.
The cold pads of your fingers against his bare skin shocks him as he flinches away, almost sewing his thumb into the fabric.
“Fuckin' hell, love!”
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Hello my loves I have some new stuff coming soon! I've got a what if fic with aerion and lady arryn where she married him instead of lyonel, a backrooms fic with bobby 😉😉 that I've been working my ass off to finish this week lmao another sneak peek of the dad! Lyonel fic before I post it this weekend and a couple of hobie reqs!!!
You've been told that you'll learn to love him, and the ladies of the court giggle and whisper about how much your loving husband dotes on you, always so caring, caressing you, eyes never straying too far from you. But you only tolerate him, and yet somehow, in some odd misshapen way, Aerion Targaryen is utterly devoted to you.
He's in love, but you wouldn't call it that when you've seen real love from your father and mother, and you've felt it with Lyonel. Whatever Aerion feels for you, it's an obsession. He's obsessed with you, desiring you. A year of marriage with him and you thought it would wane, but no, it only grew.
And he'd whispered atop your sweaty skin, right above your pulse and say, “mine, all mine.” His grip never loosened, nor his kisses ever felt light. As if he's trying to carve his name inside of you, right in your very soul. Trying to have you forget every other hand that has touched you.
But there's a part of you that knows his obsession would soon fade because you are not Valyrian, you do not share his features, and you do not have his blood. One day he'll get bored of you. What would he do to you once he's grown tired of you? Would he discard you?
The place looks like an abandoned office space, the ceiling and the lights on it reminds you of one. The damp carpet underneath your feet squishes with every step, the soles of your old shoes could feel how chilly it is, how off it feels.
As you move forward carefully, still filming, and taking quick peeks at your screen, the image looks as clear as day. This place is real, and you're exploring it like how one would explore a friend's house for the first time. Quiet steps, making sure you don't bump into anything that could break lest you get kicked out of the house before you could even hang out.
Your hand touches the walls, it feels smooth, the wallpaper doesn't feel weird, it's room temperature, a tad colder probably, but nothing out of the ordinary like you thought. But as you stay still, feeling the wall, really laying your whole palm atop it, there's a vibration underneath your skin. Like a hum, like the place breathes. It sings.
Slowly, you move your head towards it, it calls to you.
Your husband opens his free arm to receive the babe. Despite the crick in his neck from staring at reports all day long and the dull ache in the small of his back, he takes both children in his arms gladly, before sauntering over to you.
The sun is overshadowed by the looming Laughing Storm as he beams down upon you with equal warmth.
“Let us hope that she gets your ferocity.” He plops himself down on the blanket, wincing at the heaviness of his own body, head immediately falling down your lap as he settles comfortably with both his children on each arm.
“She already has it, my love. She called the septa a horrid word today.”
“Ah, just like your mother, hm?”
He doesn't have the guts just yet to tell Yuri that the lacy underwear she found in his houseboat was yours, or that the extra toothbrush in your flat right beside your own wasn't an old toothbrush that you use to clean the toilet but it's his. Yuri has become hyper vigilant ever since he saw a sock underneath your couch that was clearly not yours. She thinks you're hiding a new man from her, and she really wants to meet him to be the judge of his character. But she doesn't know that she already met the guy and is in the same band as hers.
Yuri's been pestering you about it, whilst Ned and James want to hear about the mystery girl Hobie's been having around the houseboat. One time they went to his place to write some songs together whilst you two were making out on his bed and you had to hide inside his bedroom for three hours. Your bladder was about to burst when they finally left.
Turning to face Hobie's side of the bed, you see it empty through your sleep heavy eyes. A hand pats the sheets, feeling it cold underneath your touch. You get a glimpse of the clock, and the glaring red numbers read three AM. Why in the world is Hobie frantically sewing at three in the morning when he could've been cuddling you instead?
Blinking away the sleep in your eyes, you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and slowly make your way to the bedroom door. It creaks as you open it, and not even the sound gets his attention away from his sewing project that couldn't possibly wait in the morning.
“Hobie…” your voice cracks from the slumber, even so, he still doesn't notice you. “Baby, why are you up?” Shuffling on the cold floor, you cross the distance over to him, a hand reaching for his shoulder.
The cold pads of your fingers against his bare skin shocks him as he flinches away, almost sewing his thumb into the fabric.
“Fuckin' hell, love!”
