In Pursuit of Blood: I'd Rather be in Line at the DMV
Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word count: 10.3k
Synopsis: A party crasher literally crashes into Hobie's birthday party.
Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader except for clothing, Vampire AU, mockumentary AU, established relationship, Part 3 of IPOB, set in the same universe as WWDITS, CW blood and injury, CW suggestive, Hunter! Reader, Clairvoyant! Miles, Werewolf! Gwen, Witch! Pavitr. Fluff!
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“Alright, shut up.” Gwen hisses in between her teeth, cleaning the camera lens with the hem of her oversized shirt as she leans towards it. “It’s recording now, Miles.”
“You sure?” Miles points the camera at his face, nose scrunched at the blinking red light.
“Yes.” The blond werewolf groans, aiming the camera towards her again. “Stop fiddling with it.”
“‘Fiddling?’ What are you, from the nineteenth century?”
Gwen opens her mouth to quip back, only to be interrupted by a loud shush.
“Shhh!” Pavitr has had enough of their banter since this morning. With a large cake in hand, the top of it is lit with what seems to be hundreds of candles that creates such a bright light that it illuminates the whole hallway like a beacon of sweetness. It’s more of a candelabra than a cake. “You two are going to ruin the surprise.” He whisper yells, fixing his hold on the heavy red velvet cake.
“It’s Hobie’s one thousand one hundredth birthday, Pav, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of chances to surprise him if this doesn’t work.” The clairvoyant says, huffing as he desperately tries to steady the camcorder. “Trust me, I know.”
Pavitr rolls his eyes, “I am so looking forward to sharing a school with you, Miles.” Sarcasm rolls off his tongue as Gwen snickers.
“Thanks, man, I’m looking forward to being your classmate too.” Miles answers with a genuine happy tone, Pav’s words going over his head.
“Can we go now? The candles are melting the cake.” Whispering, Gwen quietly opens a finely carved oak door.
A blood red coffin sits in the middle of a chaotic room. Furniture, clothes and knicknacks from different eras litter around the place. An eighth century tapestry hangs on a wall that depicts a battle with a warrior that eerily looks like Hobie sitting atop a mighty steed. A guitar from the seventies, waistcoats from the sixteen hundreds, a few pirate memorabilias, a silver laurel sitting atop a CRT TV, and a pair of fluffy rabbit slippers placed beside the coffin. The whole place just screams Hobie, with all its punk-ness, and his immortality literally plastered all over the place, it’s very him. Besides the blue bathrobe hanging on a Rodin sculpture, everything seems to be in a coherent mess.
Gwen looks into the camera and places her index on her lips, smiling at it as they carefully weave around a first edition lord of the rings book on the floor, and a small cowboy costume that could only fit a rat or a bat so they could make it to the coffin amidst the mess.
She counts down, mouthing the words as Miles readies the shot, and Pavitr grins above the heavy almost-on-fire-cake.
“...3.” Counting down, her hands grasp the casket’s lid, flinging it open abruptly. “Surprise!”
“Oh fuck!” Hobie screeches, lips tainted with crimson, hands immediately dropping your ankles to cover his bare chest with a pillow as you yelp and hide your bed head by dropping further into the coffin.
“You’re draining her!” Pavitr screeches in fear, trying to take out his wand but with the large cake in both hands, afraid to drop it, he’s just stuck there in horror.
Panic ensues, the cake falls down on the floor with a splat as Miles runs away with his palms over his eyes and bolts right into a frozen and disturbed Pavitr. Heads knocking against each other with a loud clunk before they both fall on the hard floor. They’re both woozy, groaning and wincing on the carpeted ground. The camera soon follows, cracked lens from the impact as it continues to record the chaotic scene.
“Why didn’t I see this coming?!” Miles cowers beside Pav like he got hit by a military grade flashbang.
“My eyes!” Gwen exclaims and jumps through a stained glass window, shattering it as shards of glass fling around the room. She lands on the lawn with a thump, howling into the night before running towards the woods. Probably never to be seen again.
Hobie’s room is in shambles, the candles from the cake set fire on a fallen sheet music, whilst the two boys lay on the ground in pain.
“‘m sorry!” The vampire yells, hopping out of the coffin, feet getting caught on the blanket and tripping on the floor face first into the glass like the elegant vampire that he is. The camera fully records the sickening impact as the boxer clad vampire bleeds from the scattered glass.
You poke your head out, neck with two distinct puncture wounds, forehead sweaty, and eyes glancing around the mess. “Happy birthday, Hobie?”
“Thank you, love.” Voice muffled by the carpet and in too much pain to lift his head up, Hobie simply waves his hand and extinguishes the growing fire. But a second later, the sprinklers turn on, drenching the whole room and everyone in it.
Your loud guffaw makes the situation better as he soon joins in on the bout of laughter. The two teenagers groaning in pain on the floor doesn’t seem to find it amusing though.
—
The camera crew are wobbling towards the dining room, frantic and hurried as the man behind it huffs and almost slips on what seems to be spilled icing on the floor just to get his shot. When the crew makes it there, the tension is thick enough to slice through.
The trio sits on the opposite side of the dining table, all in different levels of seething rage and sheer embarrassment. When the documentary crew first arrived with no one to greet them, they thought that the house got raided by a bunch of frat boys, or god forbid, goblins from all the mess. Now that the crew are standing on opposite sides, one group with the embarrassed witch, a furious werewolf, and a clairvoyant that’s in near tears. While the other stands beside you and a vampire that you’re currently tending to with his cut up face.
From the looks of things, you all went to hell and back. And not what the crew thinks happened while they piece everything together from all the narrowed eyes alone. The party decorations around adds more context to things and at the same time confuses them even more. You don’t even notice them at first when you’re too occupied with trying to placate the three.
What’s left of the cake is on the table, looking like a bunch of meat that went into a grinder instead of a red velvet cake. A singular candle survived the fall, that’s comedically placed on top of the goopy pile of cake. There are presents beside it, all wrapped in different ways that indicate which gift is from who.
The ceiling above the dining table still leaks from the sprinklers, droplets slowly and annoyingly dripping down all over the floorboards and onto everyone’s heads.
“We’re sorry.” You reiterate once again.
Their eyes simultaneously look over to Hobie’s face that has a dozen or so of Pav’s colourful bandaids.
“‘m sorry.” The vampire says, wine red eyes cast down on the fine oak table that he suddenly finds interesting when he has had it for a hundred years.
“And?” Gwen’s eyes narrow dangerously, turning wolfish for a moment.
“We should’ve locked the door.” Mumbling, you scratch at your neck that’s still sore. Ankles still throbbing from the small pin pricks courtesy of the vampire beside you.
Miles’ head suddenly drops down on the table, groaning loudly and hugging himself as the cameras focus on him banging his head against it. “I told you all that they were up to something!”
“Oh, I was up on somethin’ alright—” Hobie earns an elbow right on his rib, not even fazed by it. “Sorry, love, I saw the opportunity and took it.”
“Well stop taking the opportunity then.”
“Why didn’t you tell us that you two were doing the deed?” Gwen says with a wince and a shudder at the end.
“Should we have announced it?” You scoff, arms crossed over your chest. “Come on, guys, let’s just celebrate Hobie’s birthday, okay?”
“‘m sorry, we bare bears, you three had good intentions and you shouldn’t have seen us…like that.” Hobie glances at you with soft eyes, the cameras zooming in on the way his hand holds your hand under the table. “Will you ever forgive me, Pav?” His attention turns to an irked Pavitr, who’s glaring right at him like an angry hamster. “Mate, calm down, alright, she’s fine—”
“I’m not ready to talk to you yet, old man.” He practically hisses at Hobie as the vampire leans away and you pat his arm for comfort.
“It’s like walking in on my parents all over again.” Hiding his face from the cameras, Miles sinks down further into his seat. While Gwen and Pav give him a look of pity.
“All I’m saying is that you could’ve told us that you two finally got together.” Gwen starts, then points over to you. “And that you stopped tip-toeing around him and denying your feelings.”
“I wasn’t doing that!”
“You were.” Pav says, still glowering at Hobie, an ice pack slowly melting atop his drenched head.
“See?” The teenage werewolf says.
“Well, you should’ve knocked.” You retaliate, and Hobie grasps at your bicep with a look. “Okay, we’re very sorry, but can we forget about it? Please? It’s just as embarrassing for us.”
“Imagine how embarrassing it is for us.” Gwen is the voice for the other two, who are too shell shocked to say anything else.
Hobie narrows his eyes, not the kind that’s dangerous or terrifying, the kind that’s more akin to a suspicious father that’s trying to read through his kid’s lie. “You want compensation, hm?”
Gwen raises a pierced brow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Now that you’ve said it…”
Meanwhile, Miles and Pavitr give her a look of surprise before shifting into understanding just from Gwen’s smirk alone.
“Only if the three of you agree to what it is.” You beat her to it before she could say something that’s impossible to obtain. Knowing her, it probably is, or close to it.
“What? Come on, man.” The blond sinks down on her seat, while Miles snorts with a small smile as Pav’s shoulders ease up, idling and picking at the cake, clearly eager to eat it before it turned into mush.
“Gotcha.” Whispering, you side glance at Hobie, who looks like he’s either trying to take a big shit or is sensing something. “Hey, you good—?”
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a trail of black smoke flashes right through the front door. Slamming the old oak against the wall, shaking the whole house while the cameras try to keep up with its quick movements.
“What the fuck is that?!” The kids panic, Miles instinctively grabs hold of the nearest person next to him, Gwen, as she snarls at the flying black cloud whilst it slams around the walls and the ceiling that the camera crew keeps trying to dodge.
It ruins the colourful streamers hanging on the wall before it manages to hit Jared the cameraman right at his noggin. Shattering the camera and probably the man’s ego as he goes through the kitchen windows and out into the lawn and the cool evening. You’d think him dead if not for him groaning outside while a few of his colleagues run to help him up.
“It’s an omen of death! Run!” Pavitr ducks underneath the table, head down and bracing for impact.
Your training kicks in and you grab a wooden stake hanging from the coat rack. With your leg atop the table, eyes honed in on the intruder, following its path and waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Hobie simply stands up amidst the chaos, back straight, his red velvet robe cascading around him like a crimson waterfall. Snapping his fingers, the blackened smoke flicks away magically, turning into a form that lands on top of the table with a sickening thud. The cake is smashed even further, squished underneath the body as Hobie’s presents are saved last minute with the vampire’s super speed.
He’s cradling the precious gifts in his arm, looking down at the black clad stranger that’s wheezing on the table through his menacing eyes. He looks like the most dangerous Santa Claus known to man with his red robe and gifts tucked under his arm.
You share a look with R rated Santa Claus and you don’t let your guard down just from the way he lets out an exhale.
“Gwen, grab Pav out from under the table and back away for a bit.” Your playful demeanor turns into killer instinct when the trio are in danger.
“But we can help.” She says, crouching down to grab Pav’s outstretched hand while Miles keeps his eyes on the intruder, who remains face down on the table.
“We know, Gwendy, jus’ stay a few ways away, yeah? You can jump in when you think we need help.” Hobie backs you up with a gentle tone.
With those words, the trio nods and takes a step backwards into the living room. All the while keeping their eyes on the dinner table as Gwen readies her sharp claws, with Pavitr clutching his wand and protecting Miles that’s in between them.
Hobie sends you a look, and you immediately know what to do.
The sharp end of your wooden stake taps at the person’s nape, before you use it to move their head upwards with the weapon right under their chin.
Their long hair obscures their face, and Hobie uses his will alone to part it away so you don’t have to get nearer than you already are. The camera zooms in on the woman’s face, glasses cracked and red eyes open half lidded.
“Lyla, you prick.” Hobie grabs your wrist and in turn takes the stake away as her head falls harshly on the oak table. “Have you ever heard of callin’?” It’s his turn to aim the stake right at her.
“Since when do you ever answer your damn phone?” The mysterious vampire groans, rolling on her back as you can see that Hobie’s cake is smudged all over her front. Her long black lacy dress is the epitome of vampiric fashion, she even has the bat motif right with the dangling accessories. Nursing her head, she gathers her breath.
“Who’s this?” Your narrowed eyes flick towards your vampire companion, taking your stake back and sheathing it inside your belt.
The crew recovers quickly, with Jared fine albeit woozy by their side. The show must go on, you guess from the way they adjusted their equipment and continue to film with flabbergasted expressions.
“Calm down, love, she’s part of the council.” Hobie sighs, beckoning the trio back inside the dining room, telling them it’s safe to come back.
You guess that’s why Lyla doesn’t seem so surprised by the documentary crew’s presence when you remembered that they were the one who approved of them in the first place.
“The vampire council?” Miles asks for you, and Hobie nods, sitting back down with the presents on his lap. “Sick.”
“What’s she doing here?” Pav’s eyes suddenly widened at a realization, lenses zooming in on his expression. “Oh no, is it because of Felicia? Did something happen to her?”
Hobie scoffs in his seat, “I wish.”
“Don’t worry your pretty head, little one.” Lyla starts, slowly sitting down on the table with some strain. “I’m here because of those two.” She points at you and Hobie with her sharp nails.
The three simultaneously turn towards you.
“Ah shit, what’d you do now?” Gwen crosses her arms over her chest, while Hobie groans, kneading his forehead like he already knows what the visit is all about.
“What did they not do?” Miles adds.
“We didn’t do anything.” You say, actually thinking of slightly illegal things you’ve done recently as you sit back down beside Hobie to seek his hand. When your palm collides with his elbow, you squeeze him once, telepathically asking him, “what the fuck did you do now?”
“I didn’t do anythin’. Have some faith in me, darling.” Hobie gives you his puppy dog eyes, but with his scarlet eyes, he looks more like a wolf pleading for his next meal.
“Actually, it’s what the two of you did.” Lyla says, now floating away from the table down to solid ground. She wipes at the clinging icing, tasting it as she gives it a nod of approval. “Who made this cake?”
“I did!” Pavitr says with his whole chest. “I got the recipe from Snoop Dogg’s cook book!”
“We helped too.” Gwen and Miles mumbles.
“Snoop Dogg has a cook book?” Lyla makes a face, “oh the wonders of humanity, you never fail to disappoint.” Taking another lick at the icing, she makes a satisfied face.
“I hope it doesn’t have any special ingredients in it, Pav.” You joke, snorting as Pavitr smiles.
“Just tender loving care!” The other two groans at his response.
“We might need it now, love.” Hobie whispers to you, and your head snaps to face him.
The cameras are on stand by the whole time, lenses flicking to whoever’s talking like the cameras at a match in Wimbledon.
“What was I here for again?” Lyla scratches the side of her cheek. “Oh, yeah, you two have been summoned by the council because you need to declare your relationship or risk getting obliterated by Bob.”
“Who the fuck is Bob?” It’s your turn to be flabbergasted.
“That’s the only thing you got from that?” Gwen huffs, but remains by your side. “Why do they need to declare their relationship? Are you like the HR of the vampire world?”
“No!” Lyla grimaces, offended. “I’m a blood sucker not a soul sucker!”
“Can Bob jus’ turn a blind eye, jus’ this once?” Hobie tries to sweet talk his way out but fails when Lyla tries to pretend that she’s thinking only to take out a wad of paperwork from her coat pocket. “Great.”
“You know Bob, he’s the worst of us.” Lyla sighs, fixing her cracked glasses. “Be there today or the next visit won’t be so cordial.” Her eyes roam around the damp ceiling, the mess on the table and at the recently broken window where the poor camera man went through. “Oh this place is in shambles.” The council member fixes her hair, and Hobie skims through the paperwork while you wrap your head around the concept of Bob.
Lyla then smiles at your little rag tag group. “You guys look like the incredibles, no?”
“Fine.” Hobie slams the paperwork on the table, “but does it have to be now?”
“Yeah, sorry, big man, rules are rules. I’d schedule you two at a better time but you missed our calls.”
“Shit. I knew the ringing was from the telephone in the basement.” You groan in response, head lolling back on the chair.
“Where’d you think it was from?” Miles asks.
You side eye the clairvoyant. “The cursed phone in the attic, duh. We never answer that for obvious reasons.”
“Sure, that’s the most logical thing I’ve heard in this house.”
“Glad you don’t live here, huh?” Gwen nudges him as Miles nods and makes a face.
Sighing, Hobie stands up and stretches his limbs. “Can we leave you three here alone without burnin’ the whole place down?”
“We’re fifteen, Hobie, not five.” Miles rolls his eyes, glancing at Gwen and Pav, sharing a look that has you and Hobie a bit concerned.
“What about your birthday?” You ask, a hand reaching for Hobie’s cold palm.
“We can celebrate when we get back, yeah?” The vampire squeezes you once, bringing your hand up to his lips for a quick peck that has Lyla scrunching her face at.
“Aren’t you too old for PDA?” The other vampire snidely remarks.
“Shouldn’t you be at home with your dozen cats?” Your vampire answers with a raised brow, earning a roll of her eyes from Lyla as you weave your arm around his with pride.
“Whatever, you guys are boring. I’ll see you later at the council.” With a puff of smoke, she floats through the fireplace and out of the house.
“Why didn’t she do that before?” Miles mumbles to himself as you give him a reassuring pat on the back.
“Are we still on for school supply shopping tomorrow?” Pav turns to you with pensive eyes.
“Yeah, of course.” You say, just as Hobie leaves your side for a second to change. “You and Gwen need them before I enroll you both.”
“Wait, I get new stuff too?” The blonde’s eyes sparkles, smiling lopsidedly.
“Yeah, you left all your stuff at your pack, remember? And your old backpack is shredded to bits.”
“What about me?” Miles pipes up from the side as the camera crew fold their tripods for traveling, surely to follow you and Hobie no doubt.
“You’ve got two loving parents and one handsome uncle, Miles.” His puppy dog eyes have you backtracking. “I’ll buy you a pencil case or something.”
Miles makes a disgusted face. “Why’d you have to describe my uncle like that, man?”
Hobie abruptly zooms in, now in new clothes. A loose shirt that you can recognize from the early 70’s, bell bottoms from the 80’s, and a ton of silver accessories from different timelines. You know most of the jewelry on his body should be at a museum. Especially an emerald necklace that looks like it was nicked right from the British museum. There are a few newer things on him that you don’t quite recognize though, a pair of clay earrings that’s shaped like tiny bats soaring, a beaded bracelet that’s in his signature red and black colour, and an embroidered handkerchief with his name stitched lopsidedly on the fabric. You smile at the thought that it came from the trio, who all lovingly made it for him. They got you beat when you haven’t given yours yet, the sweet moment that they interrupted the two of you earlier doesn’t count.
“I don’t blame you, lovie, Aaron is bloody fit.” Smirking, Hobie lifts his chin so you could help him fix his frilly collar as Miles gags.
“Can you two just go, please?” Gwen says what’s on everyone’s mind.
“Aww got you sayin’ please and shit, huh, Gwendy.”
“Get out!” They simultaneously exclaim.
With Hobie throwing an arm over you, surely just to add to their annoyance, the trio practically shoves the two of you out. “No house parties!”
The crew follows behind, lugging their heavy equipment as you and Hobie giggle while Gwen drags you both out of the door. With Miles and Pavitr pushing at your backs.
“As if people want to go to a haunted house!” Gwen exclaims before shutting the door closed.
“Teenagers,” Hobie clicks his tongue, an arm slung over your shoulder as you lead him to your car. He takes one look at the backseat, and you don’t have to be a mind reader to know what’s going on inside his head. “Oi, d’you think we can—”
“Not in the car, Hobie.” You beat him to it, a smile so subtle that it can barely be seen in the moonlight. “I had to pay so much for interior cleaning last time.”
“You didn’t even know what I was goin’ to say!” Going around the car towards the passenger seat, it comes second nature for the vampire now when he was used to flying around before. He prefers car rides when you’re the one driving him around, even when you drive like a chaotic racecar driver.
“You didn’t have to say it!” You chortle, getting inside and starting the car.
“But you thought of it! You’re naughty, lovie.”
“Get in before I do Bob’s job for him!”
Hobie swears that he heard you call him a passenger princess inside your head.
—
You expected for the vampire council to be held at some gothic mansion with gargoyles standing on guard, decorated with stained glass windows that depicts violence throughout time, and hundreds of cobwebs that could bring spirit Halloween to its knees. Not a regular old brutalist office building that’s all concrete walls and barely any windows.
The camera’s lenses roam up and down the boxy building, and over to your look of disgust.
“I thought vampires had style, babe.” You say, side eyeing Hobie as he takes your hand in his.
Hobie smiles at the term of endearment that’s bestowed upon him when you used to call him bloodsucker, or asshole of the night, sometimes nosferatu, and his personal favorite, Hobart, that one never fails to either make him laugh or throw himself at you.
“Most of the gothic mansions were turned into a protected heritage site. Rent is cheaper ‘ere too.”
“Right. Because vampires lack funds for some reason. Could’ve invested in Apple back in the 90’s or something.”
Hobie chortles, tugging you towards the building, but when you don’t budge, he looks back at you with trepidation. He glances at the camera as they get a perfect shot of his shaky expression.
“You alright?” He whispers, leaning closer, chest to chest, as he takes both of your hands in his. “We can go back home if you want.”
“And risk getting murdered by whatever Bob is? No.” Shaking your head, breath hitching in your throat, you take another look at the looming building before you.
“I can hear the panic in your heart, lovie. What’s wrong?”
“If you weren’t a vampire that would’ve been creepy.” Your eyes meet his crimson ones, and a smile is immediately etched on his lips, fangs poking in between like a happy cat. “What…” you take a deep inhale. “What if declaring our relationship would have my family knowing about us? They’d fucking kill me, Hobie, and that’s not an exaggeration.”
“I won’t let ‘em touch you, I promise, hm?” Kissing your knuckles, Hobie weaves his fingers around yours affectionately. “Besides, even if the council has been shit lately, and our HOA is probably better than ‘em now, they know how to keep things a secret. It won’t come out.”
Your eyes swirl with worry. Not for your well being, but for him and the kids at home. They’ll kill them before coming after you just to add to your hurt, you know it, you’ve seen it before.
“You know that if things were different I’d scream at everyone that we’re together, right? But you know how they are, hunting is in our blood. They wouldn’t just disown me, or kill me straight up, they’ll make it hurt.”
Hobie’s eyes turn a darker crimson, like splattered drying blood on a wall as he embraces you. “I won’t let that happen. I’d burn everythin’ down before they could get to you or the kids.” He pecks the crown of your head, suddenly keeping his eyes peeled around him.
“If that happens,” you peek in between his hug, chin resting gently atop his clavicle. “you won’t kill them, right? They’re still family. Just stop them is all.”
It takes a beat for Hobie to nod, but you don’t blame him. “Alright, c’mon, we can’t have ‘em waitin’ on us for any longer.”
Hand in hand, you enter the rotating doors and through a corporate world. It’s what you expected, drab grey walls, girthy pillars standing side by side in the middle of the room and a circular cubicle for the receptionist, who’s clearly absent. Sometimes you’ve forgotten about normal people’s working hours when you’re so used to being awake at night and sleeping through the daylight. Working the nightshift at the grocery store doesn’t help with your body clock either.
The room feels empty, as if you fell into the backrooms, or that’s what Miles calls it when he has been so obsessed with the concept that he dragged everyone on the couch to show a video essay about the creepy place. You fail to understand what he was saying, but Hobie seemed to be intrigued by it when he kept asking Miles questions. When you spare Hobie a glance, you feel that he was thinking of the same thing.
“This place gives me the heebie-jeebies.” His voice bounces off the solid concrete walls.
“‘Heebie-jeebies?’ the 70’s called, they want their word back.” That earns a quick pinch to your side that has you yelping as your voice echoes.
The cameras pan around, recording the empty expansive place. There are a handful of elevators along the sides, each perfectly lined up, down to a centimeter. At least the ventilation is working fine and the place doesn’t have stale air, or god forbid, a chemical smell from the cleaning supplies they used.
“Right, let’s get this over with.” Hobie tugs at your hand gently, a cold palm against your warm hand. He heads towards the wall where the various businesses are written and where they are in the building. “There, vampire council, thirteenth floor.”
“Did they actually just put vampire council on there and not a fake business name?” Tilting your head, you search for the thirteenth floor, finding that Hobie wasn’t joking. “That’s a bit idiotic for a whole group that’s trying to hide their existence.” You say with a scoff as Hobie presses up on the elevator.
The crew waits behind you, lenses honing in on the intertwined hands and over to Hobie’s softened crimson eyes that’s gazing right at the side of your face as you look at the floor indicator above the elevator.
“‘m guessin’ that it works since there’s no angry mob outside.”
The doors ding open, revealing slick metal walls that reflect you and nothing else but you and the crew as you grasp onto nothing. The cameras capture the moment your face contorts into sadness for a brief second.
“The last time I was ‘ere was when I entered the country. It was a hut back then.” Hobie tugs at your hand again, and you blink away the sadness as you step inside. He brings you to his side, an arm around your waist, making space for the production crew as he presses on the number thirteen. “A little known fact, in some countries the numbers four and thirteen are skipped on in buildings like this.”
Your eyes are fixated on the reflection of you being held by air. The creases on your blouse are there, where his hand is supposed to be. And the indents from his arm could be seen on the fabric. But the vampire holding onto you remains invisible.
“Lovie?” His palm taps at your stomach, elevators whirring as it goes further up.
“Yeah,” you recover quickly, but the footage of your sad eyes staring at the single reflection remains. “I’ve heard of that. I think I’ve been in one where they didn’t have a fourth floor but they had a fifth floor.”
“The power of superstitions, hm?”
“Sometimes they’re right, though. It helps comfort people in a way when they know how to prevent awful things from happening to them.” Smiling, your chin rests atop his shoulder, a hand tucked inside his back pocket. You’re starting to think that he’s hypnotizing you to relax, but you know better than that, Hobie just has that effect on you. “Remember when I accidentally spilled a whole rice cooker filled with uncooked rice and you had to count all of it before I could even sweep it?”
“Pav and Gwen were proper starvin’.” Hobie chuckles as the doors open, revealing a very normal looking lobby with metal chairs lined around the walls.
“And you didn’t even let me help.” Snorting at the memory, Hobie leads you and the crew towards the doors. It looks normal enough, except for the speaker mounted on the wall beside it.
“I couldn’t or I’d have to start again.” Pressing the intercom button, the speaker cackles to life. “Hobie Brown.”
The doors spring open, revealing a different looking lobby. Different is an understatement, it’s as if you stepped right into count Dracula Tepes’ foyer with its tapestry covered walls, and oak floorboards that eerily resembles spilled blood, or it must’ve just been stained with a cherry red colour. The corporate metal waiting chairs are replaced with a long velvet couch with intricate wooden carvings along the frame. There’s still a receptionist table in the middle, but instead of a plastic table with an office chair, it’s a large acacia table that’s been etched with dragons and unicorns. And a chair that looks more like a throne that seems to be from a different time. Even the lighting inside is darker, the chandelier clinks against each crystal, giving you an eerie feel. Or it could just be a draft causing it to move, either way, this is the exact place you thought the vampire council would look like.
With the crew in awe of the sudden aesthetic shift, the carved double doors awaken. You instinctively lean close to Hobie, not out of fear, but to keep yourself grounded against him lest you start throwing wooden stakes around like it’s a party. You never underestimate your honed instincts when it has kept you alive this long. But it does have its cons when you’re faced with the supernatural that you’re not supposed to hunt. It took a lot of unlearning when it came to Hobie, your family would think of you weak minded for it, but for you, it was your way of showing trust. That you trust him not to hurt you, and that he trusts you to not hurt him back. Something that your family needs to learn apparently.
As the filming crew captures the whole scene, the dark room in front of you is suddenly lit by a dozen or so candles that’s lined around the large circular room that’s all carved stone. You wonder how in the world they even got this place built when their neighbors are call centers and an electric toothbrush company.
There are pillars all around, each carved with different insignias. You can’t help but marvel at the domed room, eyes darting along the identical metal doors lined beside the torches. Good thing that Hobie’s holding onto you or else your curiosity would have you opening each door just to see what houses within it. It’s especially good because you swear that you heard growling on the other side of one of the doors. You share the same look as the whole crew, while they keep their cameras rolling to not miss a single second. It’s not everyday that humans step foot inside an exclusive vampire realm.
“Good, you’re here.” Lyla suddenly appears from behind a pillar, donning a different outfit. A full leather pantsuit, complete with shoulder pads and heels that are so high and pointed that it could classify as a deadly weapon. “It’s the door to your right.”
Hobie points at a door to his left, surely to irk the other vampire.
“The other right, that one has an ancient being, probably a friend of yours, Hobie.” she sternly says, stomping her heel down against the stone floors. “I swear, you’ve only been lucky that’s why you survived this long.”
“Low blow, Lyla.” Hobie glances at her before guiding you to the metal door. Acting on instinct, he keeps you to his side, unconsciously protecting you as he opens the door.
Inside, it’s the same looking room but only smaller with stone walls, flaming torches and a single velvet couch. The door behind you closes by itself, and you could hear your own heart beating from the silence that follows.
“What now?” You ask, glancing at Hobie.
“I guess we’ll wait?”
“You’ve never done this before?”
Hobie side eyes you with his brows knitted together. “I know that’s bait.”
“What? No it’s not, I’m just asking if you’ve done this before because I have no idea how the procedure goes. Like what if they demand a blood sacrifice?” Raising your brows, you chuckle and cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t believe that you think I’m baiting you. Me asking how many times you’ve done this is bait, but that’s not what I’m asking.”
“What, register my other human relationship?” His hand grasps at his imaginary pearls that has you rolling your eyes. The producer seems to love what they’re capturing for the show though. “Love, you’ve been the only one.”
You narrow your eyes. “Sure, I’m the only one. Your portrait room filled with former lovers beg to differ.” Smirking, you click your tongue. “Now that’s me baiting you.”
“You’re the only one that has survived this long.” Hobie steps closer, a hand reaching for yours, and soft red eyes that resembles a sunset after rain that has you feeling guilty.
“Oh.”
“The council doesn’t ask vampires to do this unless it’s been sometime since the relationship started.”
You’re the one to close the distance, a hand grasping his outstretched palm, taking it gingerly around your own. You’ve completely forgotten about the cameras, it feels that it’s just you and Hobie within the waiting room. The thought of you becoming the longest surviving companion to Hobie has your heart cinching. The price of immortality, you never wish it upon your worst enemy.
“I’m sorry.” Pecking his knuckles, you bring the intertwined hands atop your beating heart. “I really just meant to ask what happens after this. The other one was just me being an asshole.”
“Fallin’ for an arsehole,” he acts like he’s thinking, sucking in his fangs before gazing at you. “What does that make me, hm?”
“A bigger asshole? A moderate asshole?” Your palms are splayed atop his frilly collar. “Oh I got it, you’re one of those ‘I can fix her,’ type.”
Hobie shakes his head with a chuckle. “Nah, love, there’s nothin’ to fix when you’re already perfect.”
There’s heat behind your cheeks, palms growing clammy as you stammer. “O–Oh fuck off will you.” Playfully pushing him off, the speakers buzz to life.
“Hobart Brown and company?” A throaty voice asks.
“That’s us.” Inhaling, he stretches his hand to you, and you immediately take it. “C’mon, let’s get it over and done with so we can celebrate properly, yeah?”
“Don’t tell the kids but I really want that smashed cake.” Hobie chuckles, a thumb brushing along the back of your hand as the crew stands right behind you dutifully.
In another life, you’re his queen, and the crew behind you are his sworn men. But you don’t have to know that in this lifetime when he loves you just the way you are right now. Because in a younger lifetime, before his heart stopped, before he went cold, he was a nobody, and you were somebody, and that ended in his death. And everything after that has led to your death, he promises that this time would be different. That maybe, just maybe, declaring the relationship to the council would help in keeping you alive. It’s not luck that kept him alive all this time, it’s hope.
You sense that his mind is swirling with a hundred thoughts, so you squeeze him gently, a sign that you’re by his side, and would remain there unless he asks you otherwise.
The camera tilts behind you, taking a peek of what’s inside the room. This one looks more normal than the rest of the council’s rooms. It looks more like an office’s mail room rather than a dungeon that you just passed through. The walls are stacked to the brim with metal filing cabinets, each labeled accordingly. It’s lit up by buzzing fluorescent lights, blindingly bright against the egg shell white walls and tiled floors. It’s a direct contrast to what you’ve seen, perhaps this department has a whole different interior designer at the helm.
Just like the lobby, there sits a lone desk with a singular metal fan clanking right beside it. It looks normal, from the picture frames and paper work on the table, all except for a person, who’s clearly a vampire with their red eyes, long nails and pale complexion. They’re wearing a plain button up and a simple blue necktie, but if you squint closely, there’s a drop of blood right on their collar. They’re completely bald, pointed ears with dangling piercings, and hands clasped politely together on the desk, waiting for your arrival.
“Sit.” They say in the same throaty tone gesturing at the two normal armchairs in front of the table.
“Are you Bob?” You ask, and Hobie has to stifle a giggle.
“Do I look like a Bob?” They answer monotonously.
“No, you look more like a Clovis or a Charlie.”
“Or a Robin.” Hobie adds.
“Oh yeah, that’s true.” You nod, “wait who’s Bob anyway? Is he an entity or something—?”
“Sit. Down.” Their voice echoes inside your head sternly and you immediately comply with Hobie in tow.
They eye the cameras right behind you, not questioning it one bit as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “You’re late.”
“So we’ve heard.” Hobie shrugs nonchalantly as he sits beside you while the crew stays right behind the two of you, keeping mum lest they anger the terrifyingly quiet vampire.
“My name is Quill, and I’m your vampiric relations officer. If you’re wondering why this is necessary, it’s not just for our fellow vampire’s protection but also for you. In case of death, or worse divorce.”
“That’s worse—?”
Tapping their pen against a form, their eyes look atop their thick rimmed glasses. “Now, Mr. Brown, is the mortal under the influence, hypnosis or coercion?”
“Fuck no.” Hobie answers with a disgusted look as you stifle your own smile.
“Romantic or familiar?”
“Romantic.” You’re the one to answer that one quickly as Hobie couldn’t help but smile at the immediate answer.
“Are you in any way consanguineous?” Blinking slowly, as if they’re bored out of their mind, the relations officer mindlessly writes on the forms like it’s second nature to them.
“Consanguineous?” Brows furrowed, you ask as you fail to comprehend the meaning or even spell the word inside your head.
“Related within the last twenty generations. It’s more common than you think.” Quill casually says as you make a face towards Hobie.
“Shit, are we?” Grasping his arm, you bite your lip with an unsure expression. You can practically see the cogs inside his head spinning. “Oh god, Hobie, please say no.”
His crimson eyes dart in the corner, then he smiles playfully right at you. “Of course not, lovie. Not even in the same forest.”
You can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes you. “Thank fuck for that.”
“I’ll write a ‘no’ then.” They scribble on the form, glancing at the two of you from time to time. They don’t ask another question for some time, and you wonder what they’re jotting down when they haven’t asked you anything else for a hot minute. “Continuing relationship or just a lifetime?”
“Is there a difference?” Suddenly, getting questioned by airport security feels just as bad as this.
“Continuing, hopefully.” Hobie answers for you, a hand reaching for yours as he smiles softly.
“Continuing.” They reiterate and write down as your heart swells. “Do you want to sire a child with this mortal eventually?”
“A— A child?!”
It was going so well, you thought, and then they hit you with that heavy handed question that the cameras are immediately zooming in on your shocked expression. You look like someone spat on your morning cereal, while Hobie bites his lip and stares at you expectantly like you hold all the answers. Truthfully, you never thought of that…occurance with Hobie ever, especially when your hunter education has taught you that it’s not exactly impossible but in the event of a dhampir being born, it’s not a pretty sight. You have once said that it’s a flip of a coin whether or not the half vampire will turn normal or something from a nightmare reborn.
“Is that necessary?” Wincing, you oddly find the paper mache rabbit sitting on the desk more interesting than Hobie’s face or the camera’s lens.
“It is. It’s actually the most important question on the form. You’ll be surprised how many vampire slash mortal relationships end up with a little rascal.” They answer quickly, impatiently tapping the pen against the clipboard. “It’s a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ answer.”
“Wait, we can’t have a dhampir together—”
“I’ll put it as a no then—”
Hobie’s expression falters for a second before you continue. “It’s too dangerous, what if the kid turns into a monster?”
“Every parent’s worry honestly.” The officer says with the same flat tone. “Human or not, there’s always a chance you’ll raise a monster.”
“Don’t go all philosophical on me.” Your heart suddenly beats faster, sweat dribbling off your temple as you release Hobie’s arm.
“Love, let’s jus’ say ‘no’ if you’re bothered by it.”
“Bothered? I’m not bothered! I’m fucking peachy! Maybe you’re the one who’s bothered! Because I’m not. It’s a simple question, do I want kids with you or not?!” You prattle, even standing up from your seat as your cheeks heat up while the cameras follow the erratic movements of your hands. Chuckling nervously, you watch as Hobie stands up and holds out his hand in an attempt to calm you down. “Oh god, little babies running around with all those weapons in the house—”
“It’s alright.” Hobie hides his amused grin with a well timed cough. “Sit back down, darling, please.” Grasping your shoulder, you abruptly flinch back with a jester-like chuckle that has Hobie backing away with a shocked expression.
Quill rolls their eyes and continues to write on the form like you’re not getting flashes of your made up future with tiny dhampirs. You can barely take care of three teenagers back home, what would happen if there’s a sudden mix of you and Hobie floating and biting at everything? He might be a thousand year old vampire, but he’s not experienced in that sort of thing. And you can’t even properly cook a meal, or drive like a normal human being. The question is just too much for you and you blame your hunter instincts for kicking in after the seemingly profane question.
You clap your hands together, a wobbly smile on your lips as Hobie still manages to gaze at you with endearment. “How about we do this some other time, hm? Let’s reschedule!”
“There’s no rescheduling.” Quill utters sternly, crimson eyes turning sharper as you walk away. “Bob will have your head—” And yet you’re already outside of the room and back into the main lobby.
“Sic him, I don’t care!”
They point at Hobie with their sharp nail. “Tell your mortal to come back!”
“No one can tell her what to do, not even me.” Shrugging and smirking, Hobie walks backwards to follow you. “Sorry, we’re late for a dinner appointment.”
Meanwhile the cameras capture you stomping off outside of the council. The producer is loving the distress in your eyes and the questioning look on Hobie’s face.
“No—” they suddenly relax, waving you and Hobie out. “Whatever, your funeral.”
The office door slams shut behind Hobie, and he speed walks over to you. With a puff of smoke, he arrives by your side inside the elevator before it closes.
Arms crossed over your chest, you bite the inside of your cheek as Hobie glances at you from floor to floor. The jingle of the elevator music adds to the awkwardness, he flicks his eyes at the cameras briefly, hands tucking inside his jean pockets and bouncing on the balls of his feet. You’ve never been this quiet this long. Hobie can’t spare another minute in the thick tension, so he gestures for the camera man to stand aside from the buttons and proceeds to push every single floor before you could let out a protest.
“Hobie—! What are you doing?”
Turning towards you with an unreadable expression, Hobie steps closer to you until you’re trapped in the corner of the cold elevator as he cages you in with his arms beside your head. You face him head on, meeting with his deep scarlet eyes as he inhales your scent like it’s the sweetest smell. Suddenly, the cameras fade away, and it’s just you and Hobie inside the cramped elevator. It’s then you realize that he froze them with just his will alone, if only he could freeze the cameras from recording too, but one step at a time, he supposed.
“Are you alright? Because if you want… we can stop.” His crimson eyes soften to a hush pink hue. “Do you want us to stop?” He asks what you never thought he’d ever ask.
“What?” Heaving, you feel the chill of his skin ebbing from him.
“I know this wasn’t the plan, and this whole registration shit blindsided you, ‘m sorry ‘bout that, lovie.” His eyes flick down to your lips before gazing into your soul once again, inhaling deeply as his hands relax. “You runnin’ away makes me think that you don’t want us together anymore.”
“Hobie,” you’re immediately trying to placate him. “I was just not ready for that question, that’s all. Don’t go asking if you want us to stop. Please, don’t do that.” Voice faltering with a worried look, you think that you fucked up another relationship again. And you really want this to work this time. “I just got cold feet, that’s all. Talk of having kids…that’s heavy.”
Hobie visibly relaxes. “Good, that’s good. We can talk ‘bout it some other time, the havin’ tiny babies part. So we know what to say to ‘em next time.”
“Do we have to?” Sucking in your teeth, you guess you have to be an adult and talk about the future with your vampire lover.
“I don’t know,” he nervously bites his lip. “We could, or not. Sorry. But we do need an answer for the form.” You see that he’s as apprehensive as you. “Or we could jus’ stop our alone time altogether—”
“What the fuck? No.” You immediately answer, rolling your eyes as you take his smiley face in your hands. “Don’t you even speak like that again. Let’s talk about it when we get home. Like think really fucking hard about it.”
“Alright, that’s probably too cruel. We jus’ have to be more careful then.” There’s amusement and endearment swirling in his wine red eyes. “Let’s go back up and answer ‘no.’”
“Okay, we’ll be a little careful from now on.” Your heartbeat eases up, patting his cheeks and squishing them while he lets you release all your energy into coddling him.
The elevator doors part, and you glance at the floor indicator that says you’re back in the main building lobby. You catch a sight of the crew unfreezing and they all look away from you and Hobie like they just caught their parents lip locking. Releasing Hobie, you feel embarrassment creeping up.
“Jus’ a little—?”
“Y/N?” Someone calls your name, brows knitted together, you peek over Hobie to see who it is.
“Harry Osbourne?” With a raised brow, you feel Hobie turn his head while your hands remain on his face.
“Oh god!” Harry exclaims with fear, eyes widening at Hobie’s fangs and how he holds you close. His hands immediately hold up in front of him in an attempt to shield himself. “It’s a vampire! A vampire’s eating you!”
“Mate,” Hobie reluctantly leans away, sharing a quick look at the cameras with delighted eyes as his hand stops the doors from closing, which the poor guy thinks that he’s about to lunge as Harry staggers backwards on to his behind. “‘m clearly not, or else we’ll be committin’ public indecency.”
Chuckling, you pat Hobie’s chest and exit out the elevator as you give Harry a helping hand. “I’m fine, Harry. Hobie’s a…” you’re careful with your next words. “A partner is all.”
And here Hobie thought that you were about to call him a friend. He would’ve carried you out of there and back home to prove that he’s not simply a friend.
“A partner?” A very sweaty Harry takes your hand with trepidation as you help him up on his feet. “Like an informant?"
“‘m not a snitch—”
“Yes! Like that!” Subtly nudging with your elbow, you grin at Harry and share a look with Hobie. “What are you doing here anyway, Harry? I thought you stopped hunting and became a teacher instead?”
Hobie sucks in his fangs and crosses his arms over his chest like a kid whose mother just came across an old friend at the supermarket.
“Shit economy, it made me come back. Hunting’s my side hustle now.” Your old friend glances nervously at the cameras. “Are you making a show?”
“Sort of, don’t mind them, we tend to just ignore the lights and cameras.” Even with your explanation, Harry still glances at the cameras nervously. You clasp Harry’s shoulder in an attempt to make him relax, and you introduce them to each other. “Harry meet Hobie. Hobie, meet Harry.”
Hobie nods at Harry, a hand reaching towards him for a proper greeting. You know that Hobie sees that Harry’s terrified of him, and you also know that he’s adding to the man’s uneasiness on purpose. “Osborne.”
Harry eyes the outstretched hand, clearly terrified of shaking his hand, or even being in the vampire’s vicinity. “I don’t d–do the shaking hands thing.”
Taking his hand back, casually shoving it inside his pocket, Hobie bares his fangs, grinning like he just spotted his next meal. Earning a small gasp from the man. “I’d say nice to meet you but you’re a vampire hunter.” The boom mic captures a subtle snarl from him, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek lest you grab him by the hand and tug him away to a Janitor’s closet.
Closing the small distance, and with some restraint, you pat Hobie’s bicep. “Don’t worry, he only hunts pixies.”
“Sometimes goblins.” Harry corrects.
You make an impressed expression. “Sometimes goblins.”
“How’d you even meet in the first place, genius? I thought your main hunt was vampires.” Harry scratches the back of his neck, glasses falling on the tip of his nose as Hobie clenches his jaw at the fond nickname.
“Well,” you hide your clammy hands inside your pockets, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We met at the night market, yeah, the night market.”
Hobie stifles a chuckle by biting his lower lip. “Yeah, ‘m a leather artisan.” Throwing his arm over your shoulder, you can feel that he’s up to his tricks once again, lying through his fangs with ease. You gaze at the camera with a flat exasperated look. “Genius ‘ere bought a few of my…things, hm?”
“Oh what kind of leather—”
“So Harry!” Clapping your hands, you change the subject lest the producer has to change the ratings on the show from parental guidance to rated R. “Why are you here exactly? I remember that you live across town.” Hobie side eyes you after hearing your last comment.
“I’m selling pixie dust.” Shrugging, he shows you his satchel that’s full of velvet bound pouches that shimmers. “The vampire council is surprisingly my main client.”
You look at Hobie questioningly.
“It’s good for polishing our fangs.” He says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “And seasoning.”
“Of course it is.” You sigh and Harry smiles awkwardly.
“How about you, how’s life been?” Harry pats your arm all friendly. “The last time I saw you was at graduation.”
“Yeah, the whole chemist thing didn’t exactly pan out—”
“Hobie, Y/N!” A familiar voice yells for you as it echoes around the vast empty space. The cameras pivot towards the sprinting group of teenagers.
“Three musketeers?” Hobie’s the first to react, his playful demeanor changes into worry within a second when he sees the trio running towards you frantically. They have a new person sprinting beside them, and Hobie is immediately on the defensive, stepping in front of you. “Shit, did you actually manage to burn down the bloody house?”
“What, no!” Miles huffs, hands on his knees as he gestures towards a newcomer. “This is Gayatri—”
“She’s also a witch’s apprentice!” Pavitr blurts out, panting as he fans himself. “And she needs help!”
“We tried calling you but you didn’t answer.” Gwen adds.
“What are we, a bloody daycare now?” Hobie mumbles to himself as you move around him to check on them.
“You don’t look like you’re hurt, Gayatri, are you okay?” You ask as Pav leans against you for balance and you wrap your arm around him. You glance at them all, trying to find something wrong, thankfully you don’t find anything other than the fact that they look like they ran a marathon, except for Gwen, who looks fine, perhaps all that running around during the full moon helped. “Shit, did you all run here?”
“We couldn’t find a cab.” The blonde shrugs nonchalantly, as if she just did a light jog.
“I’m haunted.” Gayatri just says, eyeing the men and the crew with trepidation. “My mentor’s away for a conference and I sort of got into her spellbook.”
“She released an ancient being.” Miles says with wonderment. Hobie snorts, earning a glare from him.
“What does the being look like? Are they sparkly?” Harry steps in.
“A bit?” The apprentice inhales deeply, wiping sweat off her brow. “Why?”
“Do they toss things around and that they’re so small that you can’t see them?”
“Yeah, and technically I couldn’t see them—”
Harry snaps his fingers in a light bulb moment. “Sounds like you have a pixie infestation.”
“A pixie—?”
“C’mon, I’ll help, I can’t let those pixies get away with it.” Harry fixes his hold on his bag, ready to go.
“Um,” Gayatri looks at him with uncertainty. “I don’t think it’s pixies, they wrote a threat on the wall with blood.”
“Yeah, pixies tend to do that when they’re hungry. Let me guess, you have no sweets in the kitchen.”
“Not exactly—”
“Let’s go, since you’re friends with my friend I’ll do it at a discounted price.” Harry seems to be the only one that’s convinced. “I’ll do it for the love of the game, but I’ve got bills to pay.”
The teenagers look at you and Hobie for answers when the stranger keeps yapping at them about pixie facts. The crew are already packing up their equipment, more than eager to see some action when the last time they saw one was when Gwen hulked out in the cemetery.
Meanwhile, Hobie refrains from saying anything about his supposed birthday celebration that keeps getting halted by the forces be.
“I already have my things in my car, so why not? We’ll tag along.” You utter and they sigh in relief, knowing of your abilities, or at least one that’s better than pixie guy. Tossing the car keys at Pav, you let them go ahead. “Start the car for me, kiddo.”
They walk away together with the documentary crew, and your eyes soften at the sight of Pavitr being shy with Gayatri. While Miles and Gwen joke around, surely about the crazy pixie man speed walking in front of them.
Before Hobie could follow them, you loop your arm around his own, pulling him towards you. Chest to chest, he smirks at you, eyes tender and with the same pink hue.
“So, you and Harry, hm?”
“We made out once, but that was it.” Your answer has Hobie guffawing, echoing around the vast building. You match his energy, grinning from ear to ear. “It wasn’t meant to be and he tasted like a pretentious frat boy.” Taking him by the collar, you look behind him to make sure that you’re all alone with your favorite vampire. “I’m sorry that your birthday keeps getting interrupted.”
“Nah, we’re good. We can celebrate later.” His eyes soften even further, breathing slowly as he casts his sight on your lips, glancing over to your neck that still bears two pin prick scars. “How ‘bout me, what do I taste like?”
Your smile widens even further, eyes twinkling. Your thumb runs along the stitching of his collar and over to his scarred bite mark on his neck. “You taste like someone my mother warned me about, dangerous.” Leaning close, your breath mixes in with his. “Delicious.”
His fangs unintentionally come out, poking the bottom of his lip as he takes you in, hands on your hips, thumbs pushing away at the hem of your blouse and brushing along your exposed skin. He can’t find the right words as his red eyes practically glow under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“I’m curious though,” you’re enjoying the sight in front of you. “what do I taste like?”
“Like heaven.” Breath shuddering, Hobie feels his blood pulsate, boiling over as he hovers his lips atop your neck, nose brushing upwards until he’s hovering above your lips. “Sweet, like ambrosia, fuckin’ delightful, lovie.” He growls out that has your chest filling with need for him.
Giggling, you close the distance with a gentle tug at his collar.
The loud honk of your car bursts the little bubble you built around the two of you. Snorting, the moment lost, you thump your forehead against his clavicle as your grip on his collar loosens. You can feel Hobie pant under you, throat bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly. You meet with his eyes, irises blooming like saucers. There’s hunger behind them.
“Let’s not keep them waiting any longer—” you’re about to leave his side, but he twirls you back in place and into his arms with a blur. Your lips collide with his, and you taste the remnants of your ichor, knowing how heaven tastes like from his tongue.