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.
HAPPY TWO YEARS OMLLL 🎷🐛 (i’ve not been verh active recently but hello hi)
Cheaper by the Dozen with 🎥 and Hobie plsss 🙏 Billie and Mona begging for a cat or dog until one parent finally gives in
(maybe that thing where dads always say they “don’t want an animal” until they get one, yknow what i’m talking about)
Yeessss i love this trope! Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it ❤️
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.6k
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, parent AU, mum! Reader, dad! Hobie, Billie and Ramona AU, fluff!
Katy's Summer Flick Screening - Second anniversary celebration 🎉
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My requests are open!
“Please, please, please, dad!” The girls' simultaneous pleading can be heard throughout the whole house as you cradle a gurgling Kitt in your arms. “We did our chores jus’ like you said!” Their synchronized voices are enough proof that twin telepathy is a real thing.
Kitt blows a raspberry as if he's joining in on the conversation. His eyes are big and wide awake as he still refuses to take a nap. Especially now that he heard all the commotion downstairs.
“What do you say we help dad with your sisters, hm, Kitty?” You coo, nuzzling his nose gently as he giggles and grabs your collar. “Alright, you're just as grabby as your dad.” Chuckling, you unfurl his chubby fingers.
Kitt blinks blearily at you, nose scrunching up while you head downstairs. He kicks around in his starry onesie, trying to escape your hold.
Hobie heard you before you appeared in the living room. The girls dangle from his leg and arm, their way of convincing their dad that they really really absolutely need a pet cat. His body is all folded, trying to shake his daughters off of him that they see as him being playful while they giggle and use their dad as their personal playground. He clearly needs help, and just by the look on his face, he pleads for you simply through his eyes.
“Girls, you woke up your brother.” You say, bouncing Kitt in your arms.
“Sorry, mum.” Mona hops off her dad's leg, looking apologetic with a pout.
“It's daddy's fault!” Meanwhile Billie puts the blame on Hobie, complete with an accusing finger aimed right at him.
“Wha—! He looks offended while the girls giggle at his reaction. “They're the ones who keeps askin' for a cat! Lovie, I swear our girls are out to get me.” Just as he says it, Billie climbs over his shoulder, perched on it and pinching his cheeks around. “See?”
You stifle a giggle, walking closer to hand him Kitt before taking Billie from his poor shoulders. “Stop terrorizing your poor dad.”
“Weeeee!” Billie kicks about as you carry her down. You place her on the couch but she refuses to release you with a hand around your blouse.
“We’re not terror—” Mona makes a face, trying to pronounce the word properly.
“Terrorizin’, cheese.” Hobie helps her, a hand placed on her head, ruffling her curly hair while Kitt watches his dad's face as he babbles in his arms. “You won't terrorize me when you're older, right, Kitt?” His son blows milk bubbles as a reply, making Hobie grin wider.
Mona nods, plopping herself on the sofa where you and Billie sit side by side as she cuddles against your side. “Terrorizin’, we're not doin' that to dad. We're just asking for a pet because he said that if we've been good and have good grades then he'll get us a cat.” Billie nods along, confirming her sister's words.
“Did I say that?” Hobie knits his brows, scooching in between you and Billie just to tease her.
“Dad!” She pouts, moreso when he makes a show of him resting against you just like how she did.
“Kitt and I get priority.” Nudging your shoulder, he cradles Kitt, who looks like he's fighting sleep now that his dad is the one carrying him.
“That doesn't make sense!” Billie crosses her arms over her chest, pouting even more while her sister calmly lays her head on your lap.
“Bee, sweetheart, dad's just teasing.” Reaching behind Hobie's head, you placate her with a pat on her head. “Now tell me what's the matter?”
Mona sighs, hands playing with a frayed thread on your trousers. “Daddy said that if we do well this school year and we do our chores then we get to adopt a pet.”
You raise a brow at Hobie. “Did you tell them that?”
“I did.” He says, gently wiping away dried milk from the corner of Kitt’s lips as he tiredly presses his cheek atop your shoulder. You make a mental note to give him extra kisses before bed. “But I didn't tell ‘em that it would be a cat. I remember sayin’ that it should be a small pet jus’ to start off with. Then they can get a cat or dog when they're older.”
Billie and Ramona look at each other briefly.
“Did dad tell you that, girls?”
They simultaneously nod slowly. “...yeah.”
You smile fondly at them. “Well, they have been good, Hobie. And we both saw their grades, I think they're ready for a pet—” the twins gasp, eyes sparkling at your words. “As long as they promise to take good care of it and that they're responsible enough.”
Mona climbs on your lap giddily, arms wrapping around your neck while Billie squeals as quietly as she can without waking up the now sleeping Kitt. You guess your boy has gotten used to all the noise that he can now sleep without a care.
“We're responsible enough.” They whisper yell, proving their point.
“You'll pick up after it, feed it, and make sure that it's healthy?” You ask, an arm around a smiley Hobie, who's content enough to watch, and the other hugging a very excited Mona as the twins nod enthusiastically with every word. “You have my approval but you have to ask dad too.”
They both turn to their dad with an eerie simultaneous movement. “Please, daddy?”
Straightening up, he feigns a sigh. “It has to be small—” their excited squeals interrupt him before they clamp down and listen. “And you have to keep it away from your brother.” With a glance at you, you subtly nod.
“We promise.” They give the two of you their biggest and brightest grin.
“C’mon, Mon-Mon, let's figure out what to get.” Billie hops off the sofa, grabbing her sister's hand and up they go the stairs towards their bedroom with their tiny feet bounding on the steps.
“I hope that doesn't backfire on us.” You say, this time you're the one cuddling Hobie whilst your hand holds onto Kitt's baby fist.
“Nah, ‘m sure the girls know what they're gettin' into. It'll help them be more responsible.” With a kiss upon your temple, Hobie's eyes flick from you then over to Kitt's sleeping face. “He looks a lot like you when he's sleepin’”
“When he's quiet, you mean?” You poke his side, chuckling as Kitt's foot twitches in his sleep.
“Yeah, and he kicks like you too.” Whispering, it seems like he's jealous of his sleeping son, eyes drifting close as he lets out a yawn. “They'd be good at it, remember their class pet?”
You wince. “I hope they don't choose a lizard. I remember it jumping on me when I got too close to its terrarium.”
“I'd rather they pick that than a hamster.”
You gently take Kitt from him as your son smacks his lips in his sleep. He might look like you whenever he naps, but he's Hobie's alright, that little mannerism of his is Hobie through and through. You'd know, he sleeps next to you.
“Why not a hamster? They're adorable.”
Hobie takes the memo, laying his head on your lap comfortably. “They smell.”
“You do too and yet we still kept you.” Joking with a chuckle, he squeezes your knee affectionately.
“Wake me up when they choose a tarantula.” Hugging your knees, he noses your thigh and starts to close his eyes.
Your eyes briefly widen at the thought. It's not too far-fetched with them knowing that their dad is Spider-Man himself. “You're not going to let them get a tarantula, right, Hobie?” He snores a reply. “Hobie?”
—
It's been a week since they got their hamster, Rudolph the benevolent. They insist on calling him that in full even though they get all tongue tied whenever they say his name. You still have no idea where it came from, you guess it's a character from their uncle Ned’s board game that they join in whenever Hobie brings them along for a session.
Even though the name perplexes you, and that it's only been a few days since he arrived, Hobie has built a whole house for the little guy. A house is an understatement, it's practically a mansion with its numerous colourful tubes and wheels that Rudolph can get into and play at. It's a hamster's paradise, and you've noticed that his bowl is never empty, or that he has been rolling around the house in his tiny ball that the girls chase around giggling. Kitt seems to like him too, he screeches happily and flails around whenever the ball comes rolling around.
This time though, with the girls off to a friend's birthday party, and with Kitt napping, you check on Rudolph before joining Kitt. But as the door creaks, you spot Hobie hand feeding the little guy while he cradles him on his palm.
“Hobie? I thought you'd be on patrol?” Guessing from his usual Spider-Man outfit that's only missing his iconic boots, leather jacket and mask, he got distracted.
He's caught red handed, freezing in place. “I went back because I forgot my keys.”
You glance at his waist. “I can see it hanging from your belt, honey.”
Hobie sucks in his teeth, flicking his eyes down at the adorable hamster. “He squeaked and I thought he got caught in the wheels again—”
“He's cute isn't he?” Crossing your arms, you smile at the two whilst you lean against the door frame.
“Jus' a little bit.” Shrugging, he laughs. “He's fuckin’ adorable.”
“He is!” You break your facade, crossing the distance as you sit on the armchair beside Hobie and pet Rudolph with your finger.
“Can't believe this fucker got me.” He says fondly at the big eyed hamster.
could i get crystal skull (📽️) for bdas!hobie x reader !!
where reader’s being comforting/motherly to someone in the crew and hobie gets baby fever watching her
please and thank you !!
(also happy 2 year anniversary 💗)
-🐊
This is so cute!!! Thank you for requesting! ❤️
Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word count: 1.8k
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, pirate captain! Hobie, healer! Reader, established relationship, set in my BDAS series, descriptions of illness, cw food mentions, talks of having kids, fluff!
Second anniversary celebration 🎉
My requests are open!
The cold rolls in around the vast sea. Fog crawls up the mast, coating it in thick watery condensation that drips upon the crew. And Hobie knows, an experienced captain that he is, the cold might bring reprieve from the searing sun but it also brings sickness. That's when he asked for your help to stop it in its tracks before it could latch onto someone. Even with all the precautions you and Hobie did, like layering and putting on thicker clothes and making sure that everyone is dry and hydrated, all it took was one person having an itchy throat.
The crew were miserable, it started with a sniffle, a sneeze, then it turned into a full blown cough and some even had fever that was so high that they were delirious to the point that they were singing sea shanties in their fever drenched hammock.
James had the worst of it, he was red in the face, mumbling incoherent words and shaking in his sleep. Then he unintentionally infected Yuri, which she accidentally gave to Lyla, who couldn't stop sneezing in the quarters which helped spread it to even more people. Your knowledge of the plague helped you in more ways than one. You separated the ones who are sick from the ones who are healthy, and in turn, you've prevented an outbreak on the whole one hundred and sixty members. Hobie wanted to snog you so badly as appreciation when you've quelled the illness but with a palm on his chest, telling him that kissing (and other activities) aren't allowed until you're absolutely sure that the cold has come and gone.
The worst has passed already, some recovered quickly after a few days of being bedridden thanks to your awfully smelling concoctions. They hated the bitter taste of the medicine, but they're not complaining now that they're out and working around the ship. It's business as usual, except for poor Gwen and Pavitr who are the last ones to get the sickness. It's a miracle you and Hobie never caught it.
You've placed the two in the infirmary where you can keep a better eye on them. Gwen rests in one of the cots, a thick woolly blanket covering almost her entire body save for her clammy forehead. She groans, joints aching as she tosses around in her sleep.
Pavitr appears to have gotten better overnight. He doesn't feel hot to the touch, and he's finally sitting up on his cot. A quilt is laid over his lap while you help him eat the warm soup.
“I'm sorry it's not chicken soup, Pav. We ran out of those days ago.” You wince as you gently feed him a spoonful. “After we find land that's the first thing I'll resupply.”
Sniffing, eyes red and puffy, he shrugs, still too tired to converse properly. “It's fine.” His voice is hoarse like he screamed at the top of his lungs on the crow’s nest.
“How do you feel now? Better—?” The door suddenly opens with a creak, and Hobie's grey eyes peek over the crack. “Hi, captain.” You relax in his gaze. “Please don't tell me that you have it too.”
“Jus’ makin’ the rounds, love.” He steps inside, nose scrunching at the herbal smell permeating through the air. “Smells like a witch's cottage in ‘ere.”
“Don't burn me at the stake, Hobie, or I'll bring down this ship with me.” Joking, it earns a look from Pav. “Sorry, Pav.” He just huffs in place, falling deeper into the cot.
“Can I open the window? Y’know get rid of the bad humours.” His boots thump in place as he walks towards the port hole. Or maybe that's just his excuse so he could check on Gwen, who still sleeps in her cot.
“What do you know about the humours?” You raise a teasing brow. “I just gave her medicine, and I managed to get her to eat a slice of bread. She'll be fine.”
“I was jus’ checking to see if I could open the window, love.” Scoffing, pretending not to care, he places his hands on his hips but his glancing eyes flick between Pav and Gwen.
You have a subtle smile. “Alright, open the windows, we need new air in here anyway.”
Pavitr weakly grabs your wrist, pouting at your words just as the port hole squeaks open from Hobie's push.
“It's cold.” His eyes gloss over, sniffing and wiping at his nose with his sleeve.
“I know, it'll only be for a minute, Pav.” You softly say, immediately grabbing a clean cloth to help wipe his nose clean. Patting his head, he scrunches his brows as he blows into the cloth. “There, feel better?”
He nods, “much, thank you.”
Hobie watched the whole thing transpire with his chest warming at the sight. Caring for people looked natural on you, it didn't feel forced nor an obligation for you. You do it because you care, that you want them to feel better, healthier, to crawl out of the illness with vigor. He didn't just notice this with Pav, you were always like this whether you're nursing a crew back to health, one you barely know with the same care you do with Gwen and the original crew.
The moment someone comes to you complaining about a splinter or something bigger like a broken bone, you address them all the same. It makes his stomach feel…weird, not like how his stomach flips before getting sick all over the deck. Or like how you manage to wake the butterflies in his stomach whenever you smile at him. It's different than that, as if he longs for something after he saw you care for Pav and the younger crew like your own. It's as if something unlocked in him that was so natural it might as well be.
“You need to have some more, Pav, or you won't be able to take your medicine.” Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts, finding himself sitting on a stool beside Gwen's cot. Pavitr says something about the medicine tasting like baby vomit.
Gwen's blue eyes narrow at him through her foggy fever filled mind. “You have a weird look on your face.” She says through a small cough.
“You look like a gopher under that blanket.” Hobie quips back, earning a mocking mumble from the quartermaster. “Go back to sleep, gopher.” He taps her cot gently with his foot.
“Aren’t you s–supposed to be on deck with the others?” Shivering, Gwen retorts and doesn't back down even when she's sick.
“‘m on break.” Hobie shuts the port hole closed and pulls his coat off to lay it on top of Gwen to keep her from shivering. “There, better?”
Gwen blinks slowly up at him then turns to her side to go back to sleep. “Your coat smells like fish, Hobie.” Despite her words, she seems to sleep more peacefully with it draped on her.
“Ungrateful.” Hobie utters under his breath, smiling softly at Gwen.
“I’ll wake you up in an hour so you can drink your medicine.” You whisper on the other side of the room as you tuck Pavitr in the cot. The captain smiles tenderly at the sight. “Do you want me to warm up your soup for later?”
“Do I have a choice?” Pavitr makes himself comfortable whilst you gently move his hair away from his clammy face.
“Tell you what, you take your medicine without being a baby then I'll make something you actually like. How's that sound?”
There it is again, that word. Hobie has that same feeling again. It crawls around his stomach then up to his chest, planting a seed that has him seeing a vision of you tucking in a little one that looks like him and you.
“I'm not a baby.” He frowns at that, expression turning softer not even a second later. “Can you make hot chocolate?”
“I sure can.” Smiling, you make sure that the quilt is properly tucked before patting his arm. “Sleep, you'll feel better when you wake up.”
The helmsman closes his eyes with a sigh and a tiny smile that says he won the negotiation.
You turn to your captain with the remnants of a fond smile, grinning wider as you meet with his swirling grey eyes. “You have a weird look on your face, captain. You better not be thinking what I think you're thinking.”
“And what exactly am I thinkin’, lovie?” Tilting his head, Hobie taps his thigh with a smirk.
Standing up on creaky and tired joints, you make your way across the room over to him. “Knowing you, it's either food, the ship, or just to feed my ego— me.”
“You're right ‘bout the last one.” His arms open to receive you and you immediately rest against him, face nudging his jaw before you fully lay your head on his shoulder. “Not to feed your ego, jus’ tellin’ the truth.”
You hum against his neck, the sound reverberating through his chest. “That's good to know that you're still smitten even though I smell like a witch.”
“Don't forget that you smell like vomit too.” He says fondly despite his words while you crack a smile at his joke. For a moment, the two of you just stay there and hold onto each other while the sounds of soft snores rise above the lapping waves outside. “D’you ever think about cribs?”
His peculiar words have you leaning away but your chin remains atop his clavicle. “Cribs? Like a baby's crib?”
He sniffs, craning his neck to look into your eyes briefly before quickly looking away. “Aye— never mind that.”
“No, tell me, why a crib, Hobie?” With a gentle hand upon his cheek, you turn his head towards you. “Out of all things, a crib is on your mind—” His stormy eyes smile, brows furrowed from bashfulness, and his lips are pressed into a small smile. Sometimes he tests how well you know him unintentionally, and usually you can read him really well. It's one of those times where a simple look from him, how his palm splays over your stomach— you know what he meant. “oh.”
“Oh.” Hobie bites his lower lip, squeezing your hip as his gaze turns even softer. “Jus’ imagine, sea horses carved along the sides, turtles painted around it.”
The corner of your lips curl into a larger smile with every word. “And a cute seashell mobile.”
“We'll finally have something to use for those seashells you've been collectin’”
Your chest feels warm, love pouring out of you in waves for the man before you. Nodding, you peck the underside of his jaw. “Yeah, I think I like cribs.”
“Really?” A smile slowly forms on his ecstatic expression from your confession.
“Mm-hmm, especially if you're the one to help build it with me.” You whisper, thumb running along the curve of his cheek affectionately. “What do you say, you carve the sea horses and I paint the seagulls?”
“As long as you help me with the shells, love.” His expression turns sour, face scrunching as he sneezes right on your face. “Shit! ‘m sorry!” Long sleeves wipe around your face desperately, face apologetic as he mumbles how it wasn't intentional.
“I think building that crib will have to wait, Hobie.”
