Hobat sneaking into your bag so now you have to keep a tiny bat safe and comfortable until classes end. You know the trope if bringing an animal to school? Either a puppy or kitten and everyone fawns over it and slowly finds out it's in the classroom. 🫡
Ahhhhh hobat my beloved!!! ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you like it, bestie!
Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.4k
Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Vampire au, hunter! Reader, established relationship, Hobat au, cw food mentions, lovestruck! Hobie, Jealous! Hobie, set in my vampire series (in pursuit of blood), fluff!
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You shouldn't have brought Hobie to night school if you knew he'd be a menace most of the time inside your bag. He insisted when he overheard you talking to Gwen about an old fling being a classmate of yours. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he can't help his supersonic hearing when the walls of his home are older than the eiffel tower. To his credit, he did apologize when you sniffed out his lie of asking to come with because he heard that a fellow vampire could be your classic lit 101 professor. After a bit more convincing on his end, which is cuddling in the coffin while he whispers to you affectionately in a language that predates Julius Caesar, you let him come with you to class in one condition— Stay in his Hobat form and stay hidden inside your bag.
It was all fine and dandy at first as you showed him around campus while he told you small historical facts about the place. You even fed him cafeteria french fries while you studied. He didn't like it, but the way he was munching inside your backpack says otherwise. You liked the thrill, it was like you brought your cat to school when it's forbidden. Like Mary and her little lamb, but as the night continues and he gets bored inside your bag, it gets harder to hide the fact that you brought a bat to night school. It all sounds like the start of a joke.
Hobie wiggles inside your bag that's on your lap, squeaking inside as he reads your notes about Emily Brontë. With a telepathic line connected with you, he speaks in your head while you try to listen to the lesson in front of you.
“Your handwritin’ is shit, love. Didn't they teach you cursive?”
“Fuck off, Hobie.” You reply in your head, but your annoyed expression still shows. “I was homeschooled, and our elders didn't exactly teach anything beyond how to throw a knife or basic spells.”
“That explains a lot.” He snickers inside, the squeaking gets a few people's attention.
You fake a sneeze, looking at them apologetically until they turn their heads away from you. “Keep it down! They can still hear your rat noises! And what the fuck does that mean?!”
“‘m goin' to ignore the fact that you called me a rat, love.” You feel him move around inside your bag. “And I didn't mean anythin’ by that.” His sing-song tone would usually have you gazing at him gently, but with you paying an ungodly amount for night school, his behaviour has you more annoyed than endeared. He does however look cute in his tiny bat form, but that thought escapes you when he peeks his fluffy head out of the zipper of your bag, a q-tip in between his fangs. “Why do you have a used q-tip in ‘ere?”
Groaning audibly, the sound echoing inside the silent classroom, everyone, even the professor stops to look at you. “Sorry, I have to take a call.” Making up an excuse, you gather your things and shove it inside your bag haphazardly while ignoring Hobie's protests in your mind. “Sorry, excuse me.” Slinking out of the hall, you exit out with your head down.
“That fuckin’ hurt!” He rubs his tiny head, peeking through the opened zipper as you ignore him and find a quiet janitor's closet to hide in.
“Good!” You say audibly, flicking the light switch to show your anger towards the bat. “I told you that you can stay if you're quiet, Hobie!”
Flying above you, he matches your height. “I was! Until I saw your shit take about ‘Emma!’”
“It was my opinion! That was the assignment!”
Hobie's about to reply back with another quip, but his ear picks up the sound of footsteps outside. Immediately turning back to his usual form, black smoke fills your vision before you're gently shoved against the shelf. Jugs of cleaners and mops fall down as you feel his lips lightly press against your own. Your instincts tell you to kiss back, despite your previous anger, you kiss him like always, anger dissipating and fading to annoyance until his lips kiss back in tandem then you've forgotten what you were arguing about. You find that he always has that effect on you. Knowing that he'll never use vampire hypnotism on you or anyone, it's safe to say that it's just his lips and touch making you melt in his arms.
The door creaks open, light flooding inside. Hobie pulls away, pecking you once more before looking over his shoulder. “Care to knock, mate?” His hand cradles the back of your head while the other holds your waist. Gentle as he avoids his sharp nails from poking you.
“This isn't a motel.” A gruff voice says, you see him tapping his foot against the floor through Hobie's arm. “Get out or I'll call the dean.”
“Shit, yes, sorry.” Pushing Hobie off of you, the fear of getting suspended tamps out the need to kiss him. Tugging him by his belt loops, you couldn't look the stranger in the eyes as you lead him away. You don't let him go until you're out in the near empty courtyard. Sighing in relief, you lean against the wall and cradle your face in embarrassment.
“Love.”
“Stop.”
“I haven't even said anythin' yet.” Chuckling, Hobie taps your shoe with his.
“I know what you were about to say just from your tone.” Your muffled voice has him laughing more. “It's not funny. That was embarrassing.”
Gently, he takes your hands away from your face, meeting with your eyes as you gaze back to his wine red ones. “‘m sorry, ‘m a wanker.”
“You were.” Stomping your foot like you're throwing a tantrum, Hobie cups your cheeks, hands colder than the night air. “I know you were bored but you could've just said so and I'd take you outside so you could go home.”
“Nah, I wasn't bored.” His thumb traces your cheek. “And I don't want to go home without you.”
“Then why were you being annoying? You know how much this means to me.”
With a sigh, Hobie, a fearsome thousand year old vampire, places his head on your shoulder and exhales like a lovelorn school boy. He mumbles something incoherent and you have to nudge and ask him what kind of sound he just let out.
“Iwastryingtogetyourattention.” He says quickly, barely catching what he meant.
“Hobie, didn't your governess tell you not to mumble?” Joking back, he leans away, eyes narrowed at you.
“I never had a governess.”
“Well, that explains a lot.” Throwing his words back at him, he tamps down a chortle, fangs peeking through his lips. “Come on, why do you need to get my attention when you have it almost 24/7?”
“I saw the bloke that you talked ‘bout with Gwen.” He rests against your clavicle, the position is awkward with his stature, back bent like a shrimp and his hand mindlessly playing with a string from your jumper. “He kept starin’ at you, lovie.”
“Aww,” you coo, hands rubbing along his back. “My big bad vampire is jealous.”
Hobie abruptly yanks himself off you. “I can rip him to shreds.”
“I know you can.” Smiling, you cradle his cheeks, immediately calming him down. “I didn't even notice him there. I was listening to the lesson.”
“You were?” He asks, hands gravitating towards your hips. “I thought—”
“Your jealousy knows no bounds, Hobie Brown.” Poking him, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. “I swear every full moon you're like this, you're like a werewolf but instead of transforming you turn into a green monster of jealousy. Seriously, not even Pav is safe when we drove out for two hours to get his wizard robes.” Maybe something in your ancient tomes says something about vampires and their monthly bouts of jealousy.
“Only for you, lovie.” Puckering his lips, he tries to kiss you but you block him with your hand.
“Nuh uh, you're not getting off that easily. Fly home, Hobat, before I take out my stake.”
“But—”
“Go, or I'll tell our housemates what you did.”
“Not even one—”
“Guess I have to sleep in my own bed tonight.” You fake a sigh.
With a puff of smoke, Hobie turns back into a bat, wings flapping loudly as he squeaks. “Already flyin’ away!”
Smiling as you gaze at his retreating form, you wince. “Now I have to apologize to the custodian. I hope he likes cafeteria cookies.” You think.
“We're still linked, lovie! I'd like some cookies!”
You're never bringing Hobie to class ever again no matter how much he flashes his puppy dog eyes at you and kisses you softly. Maybe, probably.
I have flown down to hand you a request for your screening event! Happy second anniversary!!
Love and monsters with 📽️ and vampire Hobie? Perhaps dancing in the night rain with r??
- 🐦⬛
VAMPIRE HOBIE MY BELOVED 😍 thank you for requesting, bestie! ❤️
Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.5k
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader except for clothing, vampire AU, hunter! Reader, set in my 'in pursuit of blood series,' cw food mentions, fluff!
Second anniversary celebration 🎉
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My requests are open!
You have no idea what's up with Hobie recently but he has been down in the ditch to put it lightly. He's sulking, whenever you come across him around the house, his shoulders are slumped, wistfully sighing, and his usually bright red eyes are dimmer, glossed over like you forgot his birthday. You checked, and it's not even close to being his birthday or an anniversary or any special event.
When you start to walk over to him, he doesn't even glance at you nor run away. He just stays there, looking at a flickering candle or outside the window whilst you try to ask him what's wrong or placate him with your kind touch. It's unusual, the house used to feel alive, cheery and warm, now it feels like how it used to before you dropped the wooden stake that was aimed at his heart and loved him instead. It's dark and cold, the perfect vibe for a vampire's abode, but not for this vampire.
It's just like any other day in the manor, you wake up to an empty coffin unlike before where you would wake up to his kisses and embrace. With a concerned sigh, you don your robe and go out trekking around the manor to find him. It's unusually cold in the halls, you miss Pav's spells lingering in the kitchen, Gwen's loud footsteps, and Miles' presence in the drawing room. They're still at camp, maybe that's why he's all brooding? The nest is empty and he misses them? But he was so excited when he realized that you two would be alone for weeks while they're away, or perhaps he has grown tired of you? You wish that wasn't the case and he's just having some vampire blues.
You found him being mopey around in the living room this time, chin resting on his palm as he stares outside where the last remaining sunset slowly drenches the sky in deep purple and blues.
“Hobie, you hungry?” You tentatively ask, palm gently grasping at his nape as you duck to meet with his eyes.
“Not really, lovie.” His tone is small, and yet heavy in your bones. It's impossible not to feel his sadness through his voice.
Thunder rolls in the distance, lightning piercing the sky. Great, rain, that'll definitely lighten his mood.
“How about you go help me with breakfast, hm?” Your thumb glides along his cold skin as he avoids your eyes. “You can make a fruit smoothie, you like using the blender.”
Hobie shakes his head, pulling his legs closer to him as rain drenches the whole yard. The cold rolls in, thunder and lightning striking in the distance.
“Or maybe not, it's not a smoothie kind of day anyway.” Trying to smile, you sit adjacent to him on the window nook. “Maybe some tea would be better.” Mumbling, you rest your back against the padded wall, velvet fabric soft on your skin.
Not a single word uttered by you is missed by Hobie's ears. “D’you want me to make some for you?”
Inhaling, you mirror his position, tucking in your legs as you watch raindrops drench the stained glass window. “That would be nice, but I'm way more comfortable here with you.” Your gaze softens, smiling fondly at him.
“Jus’ say the word, yeah?” With a nudge on your foot, he turns back towards the window.
“Yeah, stay here with me, would you?”
“I'm the first bloke ‘ere, love.”
“It's never just a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer with you, hm?” You tease, nudging him back as you manage to pull a small smile from him.
“Where's the fun in that?” He raises a brow, eyes twinkling.
Chuckling, you turn back towards the window as you hug yourself to shield from the cold.
For what could've been hours, the two of you stay there in silence. Just savouring each other's presence, watching the grey clouds dance around the sky as the lightning illuminates it.
“You know what this weather reminds me of?” You ask, hoping he'd answer.
“What does it remind you of?”
You close your eyes for a moment. “That one time you helped me with that merman near the docks. It rained just like this.”
“We both smelled like bloody fish for days.” Scoffing, the corner of his lips tug into a gentle smile.
“Yeah, I had to scrub until my skin was raw.” Turning towards him, you nudge him again with your foot as he takes his attention to you. “But you did help me from turning into fish food.”
“The only time my earplugs helped outside of concerts.” His heart swells at the memory of you thanking and hugging him with relief for the very first time. “I still don't understand why a merman with an ugly mug could enchant you, lovie.” A lightning illuminates the side of his handsome face.
“Please, he was, to quote you, ‘bloody fit for a fishman.’” You scoff, rolling your eyes, fists unfurling as the tension you felt before dissipates.
He scoffs back, legs unfolding, eyes turning lighter as he gazes at you tenderly. “Please, ‘m more—”
“But you're more fit though.” You interrupt, smiling at the growing smile on his face.
His fangs peek in between his lips, chin laying on his clavicle for a second before turning back to you and opening his arms. “That's the only right answer. C’mere.”
“I've won the grand prize then.” Your victorious giddyness is prevalent as you slot yourself between his legs, back laying on his chest as he wraps his arms around you. Nuzzling your face on his skin, you sigh, chin pressed on his chest.
“Love?”
“Hm?”
“D’you think ‘m cold?”
“No, I feel very warm right here actually.” You say with your whole heart as you close your eyes, letting the sounds of rain lull you.
“That's not what I meant—”
You abruptly lean away to face him, palm cupping his cheek. “I know what you meant. And my answer is the same. You're warm, Hobie. Despite the cold bloodedness, you're the warmest person I've ever met. Warmer, kinder than anyone. I've never shivered in your presence.”
“It's never jus’ a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer to you, hm?” You nod, pecking the tip of his nose. His crimson eyes threaten to spill over. Hands grasping onto your hips, he slumps over you, head resting right on your chest. “Thank you, love.” Whispering, he gently presses a kiss upon your clavicle.
“Anytime,” you say, muffled against the top of his head. “Can you tell me who said that to you? Y’know, just for research. I've got a new set of arrows I want to try out.”
Chuckling lowly, he lifts his head up from your chest, palms cradling your face. “It doesn't matter now. I've got you ‘ere with me, that's all that matters.”
A loud thunder rattles the whole house, almost making you jump in your skin. Hobie's touch was enough to calm you. Your heart swells at his words, and you're sure that he can hear it beat louder than the thunder.
“This also reminds me of that one time I called you to pick me up from the bus stop.”
He leans away, eyes narrowing suspiciously at you. “Love, no—”
“Love, yes.” You giggle enthusiastically, squeezing his cheeks. “What do you say, Hobart Brown, dance with me in the rain once again?”
“I was drunk and—” the sparkle in your eyes makes him back out on his words. “I'd be chuffed to dance with you in the rain.” You grin already standing up and tugging him by the hand. “But don't blame me if you get sick.”
“No promises!” Giggling, you lead him to the front door, opening it excitedly as you continue down the wet steps.
The rain seeps into your robe and sleep clothes immediately, drenching you from head to toe as you jump around the wet grass. Hobie watches your plucky dancing with a grin, chortling when you almost slip if not for his hand.
Pulling and pushing his arms in a little dance, he thinks you look marvellous in the rain, the grey clouds acting as your backdrop and the sounds of the raindrops falling on the roof as your music.
After a minute of being entranced by you, Hobie joins you in the dancing, stomping around, arms holding you in a sort of punk version of a waltz that has you dizzy and giggly even more.
Pulling you closer as you wrap your arms behind his neck, you sway each other in the breeze. He's as drenched as you, water dripping on his jaw, curls sticking to his forehead. With lightning striking behind him, lighting his form and enveloping him in light, you feel warm despite the cold rain seeping into your clothes.
“Did this help you? Even just a little bit?” You say above the rain as you gaze at him sweetly.
“The rain or you?”
“The rain, I suppose making you feel much better will come after when I— we have to bathe together to save water, don't you think?” His crimson eyes glow underneath the darkness, hands squeezing your waist, fang poking his bottom lip in anticipation.
“You're right, love. There's a nationwide drought. But why do we have to wait until the rain stops?”
You already know what he's up to before he could even lift you off your feet and carry you back into the house.
How would blobbie and Hobat first react to meeting each other if they were together inside the same universe? Let's say R just found this pile of...cat? hidden away underneath the bushes besides the house and the creature is now stuck to them like glue as soon as Hobie enters the scene
-🪦
Blobbie and Hobat!! My two favourite creatures 😍 I hope you like it!
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.3k
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, set in my IPOB series, vampire! Hobie, established relationship, blob the cat symbiote au, hunter! Reader, fluff!
Navigation
You love living in a two hundred year old house, the walls are actually made of brick and stone and not cheap plywood and drywall where you can hear every shuffle from the other room. The fixtures are a work of art, every corner, every wall and every window has some kind of engraving or a design that would make every art lover stare at it in awe. Even the balconies and doorknobs are beautiful and a reminder of a bygone era.
Of course there are downsides to living in a house that's older than some statues and bridges around the country. The pipes break down every few months or so, and the amount of cobwebs and dust the house produces out of thin air would have your allergies on high alert. The house is old, yes, beautiful, absolutely. But the vintage narra floors or the fifty year old grand piano in the living room doesn't compare to the beauty and age of the vampire living in the same home as you.
Hobie practically clung to you the second he woke up from his slumber. His crimson eyes blink slowly, still crusted with sleep as he refuses to let you go inside the shared coffin. But after a thousand kisses placed on every inch of his cold face, he still wouldn't let you go so he proposed the idea that he'll turn into his bat form and hold onto you while you go about your day. To which you accepted wholeheartedly when you really needed to go to the bathroom.
It's one of those days for him you suppose.
Now with a fresh face, stomach filled with breakfast, or dinner for that matter, Hobie in his tiny bat form squeaks inside the pocket of your denim overalls. His claws grasp onto the hem, a small fluffy head peeking over the fabric as you gather your gardening supplies.
His head tilts up, looking at you through big bat eyes as he speaks to you inside his head through the mental connection he established between the two of you to communicate.
“You said you were done with chores.” Huffing, his nostrils flare at you with mild annoyance.
“I forgot about the snapdragons in the greenhouse. It's feeding day, remember?” To placate Hobat, you pat his head simply with your index finger. To which he shuts his eyes close in content. “After this it's your turn to feed.”
His eyes whip open, smiling happily at you. “Really? ‘m sick of bloodbags, lovie, it makes my throat itch.”
Chuckling, you pull open the glass door to the greenhouse, humidity hitting right on your face the second you enter. “You and I both know that it's the same blood from me, Hobie. Just in a different bag. Besides, you can help me with watering the plants so I can finish this faster and therefore you can feed.”
Smiling, his neck is probably hurting by now from the prolonged tilt. “Remind me why you need to do all of this when they're not your plants?”
“The trio may be out at summer camp but that doesn't mean I'm going to let their plants die.” You utter, feeling eyes on the back of your head as you kneel down to fill the watering can with water. As you look at the source, you find nothing but Miles’ snake plant that hisses and calls for you.
Hobie snorts inside your mind. “I bet the camera crew are havin’ a field day with all the supernatural beings at the summer camp.”
You shake the feeling away, “definitely, a selkie friend of mine that went there once said that the place is brimming with different entities.” Standing up, heaving the heavy watering can, you slide it beside the snapping snap dragons as they bare their sharp teeth at you. “Did you go to the summer camp, Hobie?”
Scoffing, he rests comfortably inside your pocket. “It didn't exist yet, love, if it was I wouldn't go.”
Opening a drawer to grab the snapdragons’ meal, you feel eyes on you once again, hand pausing on the drawer. “Why not?”
“I hate schmoozin’ with other vampires, you know that— you alright? You're distracted, I can hear your thoughts, remember?” Lifting off from your pocket and flying into a hanging potted plant, he perches himself on the clay while he gazes around the greenhouse. “You hear that?” His pointed ears twitch.
“I think so.” Dropping everything on the counter, you grab a nearby pair of sharp shears at the ready. “I keep feeling someone staring at me.”
“You sure it's not me or Pav's dozen mandrake plants?”
“No, it's different.” Raising the garden shears, you slowly walk towards what you think is the source of the wandering eyes. As you near the fluffy pink cotton candy bush, you quickly grab it and unfurl the curly leaves open to reveal— nothing. Letting your guard down, you laugh at yourself. “I guess it was really just the mandrakes—!” Something gooey and black encapsulates your vision, making you stagger around like a chicken inside the greenhouse.
“Love!” Hobie swoops in, retaining his bat form but instead of the cute and fluffy kind, he turns into a large bat that's the size of a bike. His wings flap around, claws desperately grabbing at the black blob sticking to your face. “Hold on! Can you breathe?!”
“Mmhm!” You gasp, clawing at the mess on your face.
“Shit!” Without a choice, Hobie bares his fangs, sinking it inside the slimy flesh. Within a half second, the black goo stretches away from your face and onto a nearby table.
You fall to your knees, gasping for breath as Hobie returns to his regular form, cold callused hands grasping at your face with worry.
“Jus’ breathe, love, breathe.” His hands desperately cling to you, eyes etched with concern as he sees your frantic expression. “What the fuck was that?”
Your eyes widens, and Hobie uses his quick senses and raises his arm up behind him, effectively thwarting an attack from behind. There's scratching over his arm, but the vampire doesn't care as he slowly turns towards your would-be assassin with a glare.
“What the fuck are you?” You and Hobie simultaneously say, curiosity replacing fear as the goop that was suffocating you is now a black cat with white eyes and sharp teeth.
“Mreow?” The so-called cat tilts his head adorably. Maybe that's his way of dropping your guard down by using his cuteness.
“Nah, this isn't a bloody cat.” Hobie shakes the black cat in his arm until it lets out mewls.
“Hobie, stop.” A hand wraps around his bicep while you look at the cat's big shiny white eyes that seem to look at you apologetically. “I think he's saying sorry.”
“Say—! Love, it almost suffocated you!” He exclaims, still holding the cat at arm's length away from you. “I had to bite its ass! It tasted like black liquorice for some reason!”
“I know you hate that stuff, but trust me on this one.” You gaze at him softly, palm gently brushing along his jaw. “Please let the void go?”
When he doesn't respond, steely red eyes staring at you flatly, you bring out the big guns. With one final stare at the cat that's now licking cutely at its paw, you pucker up, pressing a sweet kiss at Hobie's cheek. You hear his staggered breathing from the kiss, eyes closing slowly as he savours the sweetness and warmth you provide for him.
Leaning away, you bat your lashes and gaze at him fondly. “Now can you let him go?”
Sighing, Hobie kisses you back right on the tip of your nose briefly before moving away. “One day your bribery won't work on me anymore.”
“We both know that isn't true.” You say with a smirk, knowing that you've won.
Rolling his eyes, he gently nuzzles your cheek for a moment with a longing sigh. “I know, love.” Gently placing the cat down on solid ground, it mewls for attention immediately. Yours specifically as he walks elegantly on his paws. “‘m keepin’ an eye on him.”
“Alright,” you shrug, approaching the cat with your palm up as you let it sniff your hand. You've found weirder things inside the ancient house, whether that's a book written in an unknown language or a dodo bird casually roaming around the basement, this one takes the cake. But you're not at all surprised by it, you'll look up what exactly this cat is in your tomes, but for now, you'll make sure that he's fed. Judging from his skinny goopy body, he needs some food in his system. “I think I just startled him earlier.” Just as you said it, the cat licks at your finger daintily after giving it a good sniff.
Hobie leans back, watching the interaction closely. “Sure— oi, where are you goin'?”
You abruptly stand up, gesturing for the cat to follow you. “I'm going to see what he eats so I can feed him.”
Standing up and following suit, Hobie scrunches his nose. “What? For all we know he eats brains! Don't let him inside the house!”
“You drink blood, Hobie, and we let you inside the house.” You say teasingly with an eyebrow raised.
“It's my bloody house?” He scoffs out, hands on his hips as the various metals on his belt jingles. “What happened to feedin’ me first?”
You meet with the cat's milky eyes before the two of you turn towards Hobie. “Finish watering the plants and we can.” Smiling at the slimy mess at your feet, you wave at him again to follow you. “Come on blobbie, let's find you something to eat.”
“You named him already?!” Hobie stands in the middle of the greenhouse all alone while the plants snap at him for food. “Lovie!”
As a req for IPOB, can you write r and Gwen making some smoothies while Pav is practicing his potions, and Gwen accidentally drinks a potion and becomes a baby? 🤣 the shenanigans of this prompt is killing me
- 😅
AWWWW BABY GWEN!!!!! I LOVE THIS TROPE SO MUCH
Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word count: 2.7k
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, set in my IPOB AU, mockumentary AU, hunter! Reader, Clairvoyant! Miles, Werewolf! Gwen, Witch! Pavitr, CW food mentions, talks of having children, Fluff!
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“Can we add more sugar?” You ask Gwen while the blender whirrs loudly around the kitchen.
The camera crew are relaxed in front of you, camera perched on a tripod like you're in a cooking show. They munch on biscuits that you've given them while they let the camera do all the work. Meanwhile the other half of the crew are probably getting their work cut out for them while Hobie teaches Miles self defense in the backyard. Or that's what you think they're doing, it's either that or they're wrestling with the giant living snapping plants that you and Pav planted yesterday to quell the mosquito population.
“Are we making a fruit smoothie or candy?” She asks, a pierced brow raised as she glances at Pav beside you.
He chuckles under his breath, hair tied in a rare bun so it doesn't get inside the cauldron that he's mixing. “It's because you've been letting Hobie feed too many times and your blood sugar is in the dumps.” Shaking a bottle of something that's bright blue into the bubbling mixture, he flicks his eyes at a flat faced you.
“Or it's because I have a sweet tooth.” You retort back, nudging his bicep, almost making the bottle fall into the cauldron.
Pav gasps, clutching the shaker against his chest protectively. “Careful! This is rare!”
“What are you even making?” Gwen pauses the blender, opening the top to add more sliced mangoes.
“A moisturizer that makes your wrinkles go away. Felicia was asking for some because apparently I'm the only one who can make it right.” Shrugging, he carefully places the bottle down on the counter before going to the fridge to rummage for something.
“Huh, no wonder why she looks amazing.” You mumble, staring into the bright green cauldron curiously.
“Hobie could use some.” Pavitr jokes, earning a muffled ‘Oi’ from outside. “Sometimes I forget that he has super hearing.” He says as he almost puts his whole body inside the fridge to find something.
“If you're looking for the newt eyes, I placed it in the basement fridge ever since Miles accidentally added it to his sandwich.” Gwen remarks, taking a spoon to taste test the smoothie. Pav groans in annoyance and starts to trek downstairs while the blond makes a face, nose scrunched and eyes shut as she splutters out.
“I think the second batch of mangoes you added were too sour.” You say in between giggles. “Do you need that sugar now?”
“I hate it when you're right.” She huffs, side stepping so you could sprinkle some sugar in it.
Eyes roaming over the counter, you try to find the sugar that you were just using. Before you could give up from all the mess on the counter, you find a sugar bowl near Pav's cauldron and pick it up before scooping a big spoon full of sugar inside the blender.
“Alright, that's enough! You're going to give us diabetes!” Gwen swats your hand away while you chuckle mischievously. She clicks her tongue as she closes the lid and blends the mixture once again.
Pavitr returns to the kitchen, huffing and puffing from the stairs. “We should have one of those seats that go up and down next to the stairs.” Leaning against the counter, he places the jar of newt eyes that look like regular peppers. If black peppers have irises. “Wait, where's my pixie dust?”
“Right, I think it's done.” Smiling, Gwen pops the blender open and pours herself a drink. “This better not be too sweet.”
“Calm down, you won't turn into a mothman from sugar.” You fold your arms on your front, sugar bowl still in hand while Pavitr continues to look for something. “It happened to my cousin once,” Gwen pauses as she's about to drink. “Don't worry it's not because of the sugar, he ate a moth.”
With a scrunch of her nose, Gwen gulps down her drink, clearly pleased with it as she almost finishes it. “That hits the spot.”
“Don't hog it all!” Putting down the sugar bowl, Pavitr gasps out.
“What were you doing with my pixie dust?”
You and Gwen freeze in place. “Pixie dust?”
A puff of pink smoke envelopes the whole room, making the camera fall from the tripod as you scream Hobie's name.
—
“Fuckin'— let go of Miles, you green wanker!” Hobie yanks Miles out of the jaws of the snapping plant, or tries to at least when it has his arm in its jaws.
“Don't let it eat me! I need my arm!” Miles cries out, voice peaking while the camera pointed at him shakes as the crew tries to capture the scene. “Why don't you help Hobie!” He yells at the lenses, but the producer mumbles about not being involved in the documentary.
“I've got you, Miles! Almost there!” Punching the snout of the plant, it releases Miles’ arm bit by bit with every hit Hobie smacks it with. He could only hope that it doesn't kill the damn thing when it took you a long time to plant it.
“Hurry!” With one last smack, the sentient plant releases Miles’ poor arm. Making the two tumble backwards into the grass. Eyes closed, he waves his arm around in front of the camera. “Do I still have my arm?!”
“Guess your clairvoyance didn't work this time, huh?” Hobie heaves on the grass, casually lying down with his elbow resting as he teases Miles.
“It's not funny!” His voice rises so high that it makes Hobie laugh some more. His sheer voice alone makes the mics peak that has the sound guy grimace in place.
Taking his arm gently, Hobie gives it a once over. “You're fine, it only nicked you.”
Miles whips his eyes open, twisting and turning his arm around to check. The camera zooms in on his so-called injury that only looks like a couple of paper cuts below his elbow. He sighs in relief, body plunging down on the grass as he heaves.
“You're welcome by the way—”
“Hobie!” Your scream is as clear as day in his ears.
Without a second thought, wine red eyes flicking at the camera briefly, he runs inside at supersonic speeds.
“I'll catch up with you…” Miles rests on the grass after his near death experience.
The camera and the documentary crew catches up to Hobie in the knick of time, seeing him stand on the doorway with a bright pink cloud covering the whole kitchen. His face contorts into worry, fists opening and closing against itself.
“Love!” He braves the smoke as it parts for him. The crew stays behind, filming the pink smoke as Hobie disappears into it.
There's nothing but silence for a moment, and the whole crew stands there with bated breath.
With a loud yell of a string of latin, the smoke disperses, revealing the kitchen to the cameras. There's the sound of a baby crying, and your frantic scream that's joined by Pavitr's.
The lenses zeroes in on a bundle in Hobie's arms as he cradles it and tries to bounce it. Then within the pile of fabric, a dog's tail peeks out, then two pairs of fluffy ears. Footsteps slowly close the distance, and they perfectly record the scene just as the blond tuft of hair shows itself from how Hobie gently moves it away from her face.
You could recognize those baby blues anywhere.
“Gwen?!” You and Hobie yell simultaneously. Pavitr faints, almost plunging down harshly if not for you catching him by holding onto his apron.
“What happened?!” Miles runs into the crew, he then pushes them away and as he sees Gwen’s clothes bundled in the vampire's hold, he stops and freezes in place as she babbles in Hobie's arms, tiny feet kicking about and tail swishing around. “Oh fu–” His eyes rolled back, body falling down on the crew.
—
“It's okay, little Gwen.” You dance the baby in your arms, finding the whole thing weird but not unusual in your profession. You'd be lying if you were never turned into a baby after a cousin of yours made you try their ‘hair growth’ potion.
“I turned my friend into a baby.” Pavitr curls into himself, hugging the couch cushion as he hides into the sofa.
“I managed to convince the crew to get out.” Miles wipes the sweat off his brow, grimacing like he's in pain when he sees Gwen crying in your arms. “But we have to keep the cameras rolling in their tripods.” Pointing at one of the cameras in the corner, you eye it as you sigh.
“That's good enough, she didn't like that there was a crowd gathering around her.”
“Bah?” Baby Gwen tilts her head, big blue eyes blinking slowly at you as her fluffy ears flick. You'd be lying if you didn't find that adorable.
“Where's Hobie?” Miles sits down on the couch, patting the guilty Pavitr. “She’s fine, Pav, Y/N said that she'll only be like this for a few days.”
“A few days?!” Pav yells, bringing the pillow against his face as he screams into it.
Gwen giggles at him, pointing at the distraught witch like she's teasing him. “Pah!”
“Yeah, that's Pav! Good job!” You grin at her, and you couldn't help but squish her chubby cheeks with a coo. She beams back toothily, making grabby hands at your face.
“Stop talking to her like that, it's weird.” Miles deflates on the couch, watching as you carry her so naturally in your arms. “Where the hell is Hobie anyway?”
“Like it or not, Miles, she's a baby.” You say in a baby tone while cooing at the little werewolf. “And Hobie's buying baby stuff. Isn't he? Yes, Hobs is out shopping for you!” Little Gwen giggles, fluttering her lashes as she babbles back in your arms.
The second you said the words, Hobie appears in the middle of the room, clutching different bags from the supermarket and a few from some baby clothes shop. There's a big box tucked in his arm, from the looks of it he also bought a bassinet. But judging from the glass shards sticking to his hair and leather vest, it's safe to say that no store is open at this hour.
“Hi,” you smile at him and all the things he's holding onto falls on the floor with a loud thump. “Please tell me that you've got baby formula in there.”
“Yeah…I did— I mean I do.” His eyes glow, you've grown accustomed to the way his eyes light up. From happiness to excitement, you know all the different flickering in those red eyes you love. But this one seems… different. “You're a natural, love.” Whispering, his hand gravitates to your waist, holding onto you gently while his other hand holds Gwen's head.
You gaze at Hobie sweetly, “don't look at me like that.”
“Like what?” He chuckles, fangs and all as he feels your warmth ebb through him. Gwen watches the two of you with wide blue eyes as she nibbles on her thumb.
Smiling, you shake your head at him. “Nothing, I need to change her into a onesie or she'll catch a cold.” Hobie reluctantly lets you go, fingers lingering on the small of your back briefly.
“That is so weird.” Miles grimaces, head lolling over the couch.
“Make yourself useful and help me with buildin’ the bassinet.” Hobie yanks him off his feet as Miles stomps his foot. “Love, our children don't listen to us anymore.”
Chuckling, you let Gwen play with your necklace as you grab a bag filled with baby clothes and diapers. “Ground them if they don't help.”
“You're grounded.” Hobie says flatly, dangling Miles by his hand.
Miles groans, body falling limp. “This is so weird!”
“Pav, care to help me and your brother?” Hobie teases again, this time Pav is the one grimacing at him.
—
“Right, Pav found a recipe in the tomes that'll reverse the potion so I've gotten them to make it.” Hobie enters your bedroom, or what used to be your bedroom before you practically moved in his coffin room. The fully built bassinet and the warm bottle of milk almost falls from his hands when he sees you basking in the moonlight by the window as you coo at Gwen. “Fuck.”
“Language, there's innocent ears listening.” You joke as you gently dance Gwen in your arms. She's now dressed in a pink onesie with the words ‘mummy’s favourite’ printed on it that you're sure Gwen would not be laughing at after she turns back into her old self. “I've gotta hand it to you, Hobie, you know how to shop for baby clothes. I saw one in there that said ‘dad’s little rascal,’ I thought I'd save it for later—!” His lips meet yours suddenly, hand placed on the small of your back as you sigh into the kiss.
Hobie leans away, pecking you once, twice, before finally moving away. Gwen blows raspberries at the two of you, giggling and kicking about.
“What was that for?” Chuckling, you can't cup his face like always with your hands full so you just lean against him, face tucked on the crook of his neck.
Embracing you, arm looped over your back and the other cradling baby Gwen, he kisses your temple. “Nothin’, love.”
“The sight of me holding onto a baby unlocked something in you, huh?” As always, it didn't take you long to read the thousand year old vampire.
He scoffs, brows knitted as he rolls his eyes. “Children are a menace.”
“Yeah, but it made you think, right?” Your voice lowers as you briefly brush your lips on his neck. When Hobie doesn't answer, his crimson eyes gazing into your own with longing, you gently place Gwen in his arms. “Support her neck, I know that's against your nature but you don't want to break that.”
“Yeah, I know that, love.” Chuckling, he looks at Gwen as she grabs his finger and begins to bite at it with her own fangs. “Ow.” His smile only grows bigger instead of annoyance.
“I think she's hungry. Let me grab her bottle.” You take the bottle he made that he placed on the nightstand. You find that it's still warm, and you can't help that your heart soars at the thought of Hobie warming up the milk like it's natural instinct to him. “Alright, let go of the vampire's finger, I've got your baba.”
Cooing, you gently take Hobie's finger away from her mouth and replace it with the baby bottle. Miles is right, this is weird, especially when her familiar blue eyes gaze at you so sweetly that you've forgotten that she's the same Gwen, who chastises you for leaving a dirty glass on the sink.
Hobie watches you through pensive yet soft eyes. “How are you so good at this?” He asks as you hold up the bottle for her.
“I used to babysit my little cousins.” You reply, your other hand reaching for his forehead to rub the worry lines away. “You okay? I know that this is my fuck up—”
“It is, but it's not that, lovie.” Hobie grasps your hand, bringing it slowly to hold his cheek instead as he leans against your hold. “I jus' can't help thinkin’... What if.”
Your heart squeezes, nodding at what he meant. “Yeah, what if.” Looking at Gwen, her eyes start to close, slowly dozing in Hobie's arm. “They'll be cute, probably just as cute as her.”
Sniffing, Hobie swallows thickly. His mind draws up a vision of you running after a little version of him, or a little you. But then reality strikes that scene, a dhampir would be teasing fate, a toss of a coin. And sometimes it doesn't end like in the romance stories you read inside the coffin before bed.
“Maybe even cuter than Gwen.” He says, tone small as he takes your hand away from his cheek to hold your hand instead. “Any names you have in mind?”
“Something fun like Billie, or a classic like Ramona.” Whispering it like a secret, you clear your throat when a sob threatens to escape. “Anyway, it's fun to imagine.”
Nodding, Hobie leads you towards the bed so you could sit down. “Yeah, it's fun.”
As you stare at the sleeping baby Gwen bathed in moonlight, you lean against him, hand cupping the back of her head, thumb gently caressing her cheek. “It's all just some fun.”
There's happy shrieking downstairs, and you both know that Miles and Pavitr have made the counter potion.
