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Nov 20, 2025

A Ghost, a Vampire and a Dodo Bird Walks into a Bar…

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 9.6k

Synopsis: Ghost hunting isn't like how it is in the movies.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader except for clothing, vampire AU, vampire! Hobie, hunter! Reader, In pursuit of blood part 4, clairvoyant! Miles, Werewolf! Gwen, Witch, Pavitr and Gayatri, CW blood and injury, CW suggestive, mockumentary AU, WWDITS AU, established relationship, fluff.

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“Damn,” is all you have to say when you get to your destination. “How do you know Pavitr again, Gayatri?” You ask as you crane your neck up and outside the car window just to gaze at the massive gothic mansion in front of you.

“All witch apprentices know each other. Our mentors typically let us interact.” She answers, unclasping her seat belt as everyone except for Hobie gawks at the massive place.

“We have a group chat…” Pavitr simply adds, taking a quick snap of the mansion. “But I didn’t know your place looks like this, Gaya.”

“I’m used to it, I guess.” She shrugs as you shut off your engine.

“Alright, ground rules.” You look behind at the passenger seat before they go outside.

They all groan in tandem.

“Listen to mum.” Hobie defends you, using the rear view mirror, and dabbing the corner of his lips with a handkerchief when it left a stain that awfully looks like the same shade of your chapstick right on the cloth.

With a playful tap on Hobie’s bicep, you continue. “I don’t want to be that guy but we need to be extra careful because the thing that’s haunting the house isn’t a pixie.”

“Yeah no shit, Sherlock.” Gwen utters, checking her nails.

“Gwen,” you call gently as she turns her attention to you. “Did you take your meds today? The ghosts inside might overwhelm you. I don’t want you straining yourself, okay?”

“I did, yeah, don’t worry.” She gives you a wobbly smile. “I don’t want to hear them whispering to me either.”

You nod. “Just listen to what Hobie and I have to say, when we tell you to run, you run, when I tell you to cast a spell you do it.” Your eyes glance along their faces. “And for the love of all things that’s good, don’t live stream the whole thing.”

They all turn towards Hobie.

“That was one time, I misclicked!” The five of you continue to stare at him. “Come off it.” He huffs back down on the seat.

“You almost exposed us, Hobie.” Miles winces at the memory.

“Yeah, we almost got the HOA on our asses again.” Gwen adds with a chuckle.

Patting Hobie’s chest to placate him, you turn back towards the backseat. “I have extra equipment and holy water in my trunk, you guys can—”

“Sweet! Ghost hunting time!” Miles bolts out of the car and immediately heads towards the trunk. “I call dibs on the water gun!”

“Wait, I want the radio thing!”

“Miles, no fair!”

“Are they always like this?” Gayatri asks before following right behind them.

“Yep.” You pop the letter ‘p’, peripheral catching the documentary crew arriving together in tandem with Harry’s car. “Hobie.”

The vampire immediately turns to you with a small smile. “Yeah, lovie?”

“Do me a favour and keep an eye out for them? Something tells me that this isn’t a regular haunting.” Your eyes glance worriedly at the huge mansion.

“How ‘bout you then?”

“You know I can handle myself.” Reaching for his cheek, he leans against your touch, pecking your palm and gazing at you affectionately. “Besides, I’m good with poltergeists, if this doesn’t end up being something worse than that, we’ll be okay.”

Leaning over the console, he kisses you gently, once, twice, thrice for good measure. “Can I have some of that holy water too?”

“That’s like acid to you.” Giggling, you wipe the sheen off his lips with your thumb.

His brows furrowed. “Nah, it doesn’t do that to me.”

“Really?” You’re even more confused than him.

“Yeah, I don’t remember the last time I was burned by it. Probably durin’ Victoria’s time.”

“Huh, that’s weird—” you almost jump at someone knocking on your car window.

“Stop making out and let’s go hunt a ghost!” Gwen impatiently stomps her foot.

“Alright, alright we’re coming.” Sighing with a subtle smile, you unclasp your seat belt and head out with Hobie. He beats you to opening the car door first when he zoomed on over to your side within a second. Taking his helping hand, cheeks warm, your smile falters when you see Harry giving you a look. Hand sliding away from him, Hobie follows your line of sight and glowers right at him. “Come on, Hobie.” You whisper to him gently and he complies without hesitance.

The cameras capture the whole thing on film: Harry’s questioning expression, surely with a remark on the tip of his tongue, and with you hiding the fact that you want nothing else but to hold onto Hobie freely but you’re forced to lay low. Meanwhile the vampire wants the other hunter to burst into flames simply from his gaze.

Hobie shows his displeasure by staying by your side the whole way up to the house, his palm hovering just above the small of your back. The metal gates squeak as Gayatri opens it. She then begins to unlock the large ornate front door with a ring of keys with so many rattling keys attached to it in all shapes and sizes that it rivals Hobie’s infinite carabiner.

“Shoes off inside please.” Gayatri instructs as the group follows suit, entering the abode and leaving the shoes at the door.

The documentary crew lets everyone else go inside first when they can’t possibly fit themselves in through the door with their large equipment while your group stumbles as they take off their shoes one by one.

The second you step foot, your whole body tells you to run, a slithering sensation that has goosebumps rising on your arms. You’re used to that feeling when you’ve been hunting ever since you could properly hold a wooden stake, so you ignore it, chalking it up to nerves.

Once inside, feeling tucked inside your mind, you whistle lowly at the decor. From floor to ceiling, it’s a genuine Victorian style home. The curved staircase adds whimsy and charm with its carved wooden bannister that stretches from the three floors down to the foyer. A gothic style chandelier laden with dark crystals catches your eye as it shimmers under the moonlight provided by the sun roof above. It’s the least modern house you’ve ever seen, everything you see around you doesn’t look like it came from the same year or even the same century as the present. There’s also a few dead giveaways on who lives here, there’s dried herbs dangling from the ceiling that seems to be held up by nothing; that gives off the smell of a cottage in a forest. And the gaudiest taxidermied critters are littered all over the place like there’s no lack of supply for dead furry creatures to use as decor.

You’re still in the foyer, and you wonder what treasure lies within the house when you go further in. As much as you love Hobie’s treasures that he gathered through the years, you’re just as impressed with the house with its curated pieces that you’re sure that museums are currently looking for.

The cameras try to record properly from behind, but they can’t get inside just yet while the others are still unlacing their shoes.

“Shit, is that an Egyptian bangle?” Gwen’s eyes widen at the display case sitting casually on a glass cabinet like they’re a regular old collection of a Sylvanian family.

Miles drops your pack by your feet to gawk at the golden bangle with its shiny sapphires. Chuckling and rolling your eyes, you grab your pack and sling it over your shoulder.

Hobie’s attention is immediately on the intricate bangle, red eyes narrowing at the sight of the turquoise beading and large carved scarab in the middle. “Yeah, made before King Tut’s time, I bet.”

“Since when are you an ancient Egyptian expert?”

“I lived through it, Gwendy.” He simply says. And Gwen gives a ‘fair enough’ expression.

Something feathery waddles and catches your attention. “Fucking hell, is that a dodo bird?” You point at the bird walking casually to the kitchen.

“Oh shit, let me see!” The trio sprints away, their socks almost making them slip and fall on the polished floors as they clamber against each other.

“Sorry ‘bout ‘em.” Hobie apologizes on their behalf.

“It’s alright. I get it though, I was like that when I first got here— please don’t touch the Mayan calendar.” Gayatri slaps away Harry’s hand that’s about to poke at a finely carved stone.

“I just wanted to see if it’s the real thing.” Harry mumbles and nurses his ‘injury.’

Hobie smiles blatantly at Harry and nods approvingly at Gayatri instead. Meanwhile, the crew are just starting to filter inside, trying to quickly toe off their shoes to capture the place.

“I suppose we don’t have time for a house tour. So where should we start—?”

As if on cue, an invisible force pushes at the group, as if an intense wind is trying to blow everyone out of the house.

Eyes stinging, you quickly grasp at the corner of the cabinet. Hobie leaps to your rescue, wrapping his arms around your waist, securing you in place. While Gayatri utters a spell to keep her in place as she shields her face with her arm from the wind. With the camera crew that are nearest to the door, they’re the first ones out, equipment flying and tumbling beside them, shattering most of their stuff. Jared catches the edge of the door, hanging for dear life before getting flung outside together with his crew members. Harry almost flies out right after, but Hobie catches him at the last minute, holding him by his scruff like a misbehaving puppy.

“Hold on!” With a flick of her hand, sparks flying out, Gayatri halts the wind. “I think we’re good. This is what I’ve been talking about.” Heaving, she looks over her shoulder to find the three of you looking disheveled and missing the whole documentary crew. “Did you close the door?” She asks worriedly.

Harry yanks himself out of Hobie’s grasp and heads on over to the front door frantically, only to find that it doesn’t budge open. “Shit.”

Meanwhile the documentary crew outside are banging at the door, pleading to be let in and speaking of getting reprimanded by their big corporate boss if they don’t get any juicy footage.

“Let me try.” Gayatri whips out her keys again, trying to open the door.

“Wait, where are the kids?” Your heart sinks down to your stomach as your feet takes you towards the kitchen where they went. Panic envelopes you when you don’t find them inside. “Hobie, we need to—” as you turn around, you find yourself all alone when you thought he was following you. The whole house is as silent as the dead. “Fuck me.” Hands shaking, you hold onto the straps of your pack to ground yourself.

“Okay, first thing’s first, find someone.” Muttering to yourself, you decide to head further into the mansion. Leaving the kitchen, back to the foyer and to the hallways under the staircase. “I’ll take anyone, hell, even Harry.” Taking some chalk inside your pack, you start to mark the hallway with an X to keep up with the moving rooms. “I don’t think we have a regular ghost here.” Shuddering, you see your own breath escape you as you feel the sudden burst of freezing cold touch your shoulder.

Heart beating rapidly in your ears, your hand brushes along the salts inside your pocket before quickly turning around and flinging it behind you.

“Ow! Fuck!” Harry gasps, holding onto his stinging eyes. “What’d you do that for?!”

“Shit, sorry! I thought you were a ghost!” Taking his arm, you lead him back to the kitchen, only to find a completely different room. This time, the whole space is filled with ancient Egyptian artifacts, complete with a sarcophagus standing upright in the middle of the area. It’s like you walked into a museum. When the torches flicker on, your mouth turns dry. “I guess we’ll wash that off with some holy water.”

“Do it! It’s not like I’m going to burst into flames!” He exclaims as you guide him towards an elegant green settee in the corner.

“Are you sure about that?” You say to yourself as you wash his eyes. The water drips down, and you grimace at the wet carpet that it leaves. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m talking to the owner of the house for ruining their carpet.” Chuckling, Harry doesn’t seem so amused as he stares at you with his reddened eyes. “How do you feel now?”

“Like a million bucks. You know I’m starting to think that these aren’t pixies.” Scratching his eyes, Harry groans and sinks further into the seat. “Just leave me here, call me when you’re done with the ghost.”

Scoffing, you take your pack and go. But before you do, you feel a magnetic pull towards the sarcophagus. Turning back around as if you’re on auto pilot, you suddenly find yourself in a dark cramped space.

“What the fuck?!” Waking up panting, fists banging against the lid, you scream as loud as you could. Feeling for your pack, you try to find your flashlight. “Fuck, fuck, where is it?!”

“Y/n?!” Harry’s voice sounds like he’s a million miles away from you. “How the fuck did you get in there?!”

“What?” You pause in your movements. “Where the fuck am I, Harry?!”

“Inside the fucking sarcophagus!”

“Oh shit balls.” Heartbeat quickening, you finally find your flashlight as you immediately turn it on as light floods inside, you’re face to face with the lid and its carved hieroglyphics. Just when you thought taking that Egyptian hieroglyphs class back in college was stupid of you, it finally came in handy.

Taking deep breaths, you try to calm yourself, and imagine being in Hobie’s coffin instead of a dusty sarcophagus. You’re used to the coffin since you practically moved in his room, but instead of giving you a sense of comfort inside the cramped walls, this one just gives you the heebie-jeebies.

“Genius, say something! Don’t tell me you suffocated in there!” Harry’s fists bangs at the sarcophagus.

“I’m fine!” You look behind you to find nothing but the solid wall of the tomb, and you thank your lucky stars for that. Seeing a wrapped mummy under you would’ve stopped your heart, you can handle flaming monsters and loveable vampires, but mummies give you the ick. “Can you find something to pry it open?”

“I think so!” There’s stomping on the other end. “There’s a scepter in here.”

“No! Don’t use that! That belongs in a museum, you’ll break it!”

“Well, I can’t just leave you in there!”

Huffing, you bite the flashlight to rifle into your bag for something sharp and long, only to find a fountain pen and a small dagger. Inhaling, you feel the air grow thinner inside. “I have a dagger but I don’t think it’ll work but I’ll try!”

“Try, please!”

You manage to snort at his desperation as if he’s the one locked inside. Placing the blade in between the cracks, you try to pry it open. With all your strength, it doesn’t budge.

“Did it work?”

“Do you see me now?”

“No?”

“Then it obviously didn’t work!”

“Is it too late to say that I’m not over you—?”

“Really, Harry?!” Grimacing, you try again with the dagger. “We were together for barely a week, man!”

“It was the best week of my life!”

“Idiot.” Muttering, and giving it your all as you push, the blade suddenly snaps in half, grazing your palm in the process. “Fuck, ow!” Exclaiming, Harry hears it and proceeds to panic further. “It’s fine, just a cut!”

“Oh, god, you’re going to die in there!”

“Shut it, Harry!” Winching, you wrap your hand around your shirt in a makeshift bandage. You’d reach for your pack on the floor but you’re bleeding too much as it manages to stain the lid of the sarcophagus.

“Hold on, I’ll find help!”

“Wait, you’ll get lost!” Judging from the door slamming close, you’re alone. “Idiot. Why the fuck did I date him?”

Steadying your breathing, you try to relax your anxious body but it’s harder when your hand aches. Eyes honing in on the hieroglyphics in front of you, the words capture your attention. Might as well read it, you then quickly realize that it’s a story, something like a folk lore that you’ve never heard of before.

It paints a picture for you, a servant and a noble man’s daughter. Two star crossed lovers doomed at the start, both forced to do the family’s bidding. As you translate the symbols, you feel sand underneath your feet, as if you’re flung right into the story. You watch as the two shadows hide their love from scornful eyes, meeting in the dark and acting as if nothing happened when the sun arose and the world puts them back in their place.

Your bloodied hand brushes along a symbol that you can’t quite decipher, a whole line that was either struck away by a sharp weapon, or ruined by the elements and time itself. Continuing the story, your blood staining the carved symbols, it reads that the servant died but came back to life, a gift from the gods, or a curse, you can’t exactly tell when your knowledge needs polishing. Either way, you know that he became a vampire just from that line alone.

“A night creature.” Your lips move on their own, reading it in ancient Egyptian like it’s suddenly your mother tongue.

Reading further, the story turns into an outdated textbook about vampires, something you already know about, from the sun killing them, to things that were already proven untrue. But as you go on, it gets harder and harder to translate with the carvings turning unreadable from all the weathering. But something catches your attention, a small section of the story that was carved as an afterthought, that if true, the knowledge will change everything you knew about vampires.

Hope blooms in your chest, a thumb running over the carved line as you chuckle. “I need to tell Hobie—” your flashlight shuts off suddenly, and the wall behind you crumbles to dust as you stumble backwards into another space.

Wincing, back aching, you look at the stone clad room with torches lined up on the hieroglyphic covered walls. This one feels different than the artifact room you first stumbled upon. The previous place had everything behind glass, and the stone walls were clearly fake, made with foam and painted to look weathered, looking like a museum. But this one seems legitimate, as if you fell right inside an actual tomb.

You roll on your front, eyes staying on the single pedestal right in the middle of the dim space. It’s lit above by a single hole on the ceiling, angled up and looking like the inside of a pyramid. Standing up, footsteps echoing, you can’t look away from the jeweled necklace placed right on the stone pedestal. It’s expertly made, simple with its single golden chain, and clearly from the same era with an ankh pendant dangling on it.

The single ruby sitting right in the middle of the ankh captures you, the same shade as Hobie’s eyes, scarlet and clear as it drags your hand towards it without another thought. It only took a single touch for you to ease into unconsciousness.

—

“Love?!” Hobie panics when he follows behind you to the kitchen only to find it empty. “Fuck!” A palm atop his chest, he tries to even out his breathing. “Where are you?!” Screaming, he’s met with silence. “Gwen, Miles, Pav?!”

He’s flinging cabinets away, trying to find a semblance of your presence or the trio’s before storming back into the foyer. Stopping in his tracks, eyes widening in sheer horror, he sees your limp body on the bottom of the staircase.

“No.” His own body refuses to move, limbs turning to stone at the sight of your head bleeding profusely on the carpeted floor. “Lovie?” Eyes watering, he heaves, blood rushing to his ears.

Wiping his eyes to see you clearly, your body is gone from the floor as if you weren’t there to begin with. Panting, hands on his knees, he never felt so relieved.

Hobie thumps his head with the heel of his palm, blinking away the unshed bloodied tears. “It’s messin’ with you.” He whispers to himself for comfort. “It ain’t real. It ain’t real.”

A hand circles around his elbow, a touch he knows all too well. Relaxing, Hobie’s worry fades away as he smiles, turning around to face you.

“Are sure that I’m not real?” You say in an empty tone, blood caked on your face, skull cracked.

“Fuck!” Hobie stumbles backwards and into a cabinet of artifacts that almost breaks from the collision.

Standing in the middle of the foyer, he’s haunted by the ghostly sight of you. Then, one by one, all the versions of you walk out, each marred by the fatal injuries that ended your life. Each wearing different clothes from eras that he lived through, ones that you never survived in to see the next.

“Or am I showing you the end?” The voices overlap with each other, an echo of the past, a chorus of his failures.

“Stop!” Waving his hand in front of him, the hauntings fade away like dust in the breeze.

“What are you doing?” Pav appears from behind, making Hobie jump away in surprise.

The young witch holds onto a good mannered dodo bird that’s sleeping in his arms, and he doesn’t look like he’s bothered by all the hauntings when he seems to be relaxed.

“Pav, you good?” Hobie’s red eyes glance around, seeing that he’s definitely not in the foyer anymore but in an expansive library that spans high above like an observatory. “How did I—?” Hand on his chest, he tries to calm his breathing.

“The ghost makes the house move around. I lost Miles a few rooms ago, and I thought I saw Gayatri but it wasn’t her. I don’t know where Gwen is.” Pav casually says, giving the vampire a helping hand as he takes it with a thankful nod. “Good news though, I found a book here that could help us.”

Hobie takes his hand away when he feels that something isn’t right with Pavitr. “You sure you’re okay, Pav?” His crimson eyes search his face, but nothing seems to be amiss.

“Follow me.” Gesturing with his head, Pavitr walks towards a large leather bound book sitting on a pedestal. “This one.”

Glancing around, Hobie takes the book into his arms. “Which page did you say it was—?” When he turns around, he finds himself alone, and a quiet giggle lingers in the air together with the smell of sulfur. “Damn it, shit’s playin’ with me.” Muttering and unbothered, Hobie leaves the room whilst skimming through the book’s contents.

His footsteps thud softly on the floor, eyes honed in on the pages as he navigates the winding corridors.

“What the fuck is this?” Groaning, he finds that the book is all about the mundane history of how stairs came to be. “Arsehole.” There’s that giggling echoing around again. Tossing the book haphazardly with a thud, he decides to walk around in hopes of finding someone, hopefully you.

Fists opening and closing, gulping down his worries, he enters each room with fading hope. One by one, he checks each room. He encounters a blue space filled with blooming violets, its scent encompassing the whole place. A half painted portrait sits right in the middle of the opulent room, together with a painter's pallet laying by it.

Squinting his eyes, vision zooming in on the portrait, the woman in the painting blinks back at him.

“Nope.” Hobie slams the door shut, already walking away. “Where the fuck are you, love?”

His anxiety grows even more when goosebumps rise on his arms, which was a thing of the past for him, one that he hasn't felt in a long time, a grounding feeling that he has only felt when he first laid eyes on you. He’s not afraid for his own life when he has lived a thousand lifetimes, but he’s afraid for yours, Miles’, Gwen’s, and Pavitr’s. He promised to protect you this time, and in turn promised to protect everything you hold near and dear. He wants to keep that promise intact.

Stepping further into the house, hallways getting longer and more doors appearing, the whole place suddenly drops in temperature. He could see his breath as he hears someone crying, a muffled sob that has his senses on high alert. Honing his hearing, he finds the source at the end of the hallway.

With every step, the hallway extends even further than the mind could comprehend. Stretching infinitely into oblivion.

“Wanker.” Grinding his fangs, he curses the ghost like it just took his lunch money instead of it messing with his mind. Cracking his neck, Hobie starts to sprint to the end, only for the hallway to stretch even more when his hand brushes along the doorknob briefly. Heaving and pausing for breath, he rests his hands on his knees for a moment.

Something catches his eye on his right, something that has his heart plunging in his stomach— his reflection.

Hobie crosses the small distance towards the floor length mirror that shows his true self. The outfit he picked this morning, the trio’s gifts adorning him, and the mark you left right on his clavicle. It’s him, a sight that he hasn’t seen since he turned— since he died. A hand reaches for the mirror, a bloodied tear escaping him when he finds it real.

The cold mirror was a shock to his senses, but your face appearing by the side of his head shocks him even more, almost restarting his heart.

When he turns around, he finds no one beside him, only your perfume lingering in the air, but not the one you usually reach for, no, it’s the same scent that your ancestor used to wear— lavender and eucalyptus, a sweetened scent that brings his senses back in time, when he was merely a nobody and you were someone who finally saw him for who he is and not what he was forced to do.

“Love?” His voice echoes around the hallway, breath stuck in his throat as his skin rises with goosebumps.

“Here.”

A breathy whisper from behind compels him to turn around and face the mirror once again, only to find it reflecting nothing. He doesn’t know if it was cruel to give him the vision of himself after a thousand years, or a brief kindness.

As Hobie wipes the bloody tear streak drying on his cheek, he decides to go further. Focusing his gaze onto the end of the loop, commanding it to stop. This time, the hallway obeys him and stops moving, enough for him to grasp the cold doorknob and enter the next room.

Stepping through, he senses the cold again. His eyes glance around, fake torches line the ancient Egyptian themed room, as if he stepped foot inside a museum with its glass cabinets laden with artifacts, and the sarcophagus standing upright right in the middle of it.

Hobie eyes the golden sarcophagus as familiarity floods his senses. A panther’s face is in place of a man’s head, expertly carved into the wood, complete with all the regalia that’s worthy of a pharaoh’s burial. His sharp nail taps at the weathered lid, leaving a sharp indent on it.

His ears pick up a quiet weeping, tilting his head, he sees Gwen huddled behind it, cowering with her hands covering her ears.

“Gwen.” Breathing a sigh of relief, he immediately walks over to her, hoping that she’s the real deal this time.

She lifts her head, eyes red and puffy as she clutches onto her ears. “Hobie?”

“Oi, it’s alright, jus’ me.” Kneeling down, Gwen abruptly lunges at him, embracing him for comfort. His eyes widen for a moment, not used to the girl’s affection before gently tapping at her back. “Shh, you’re alright now, Gwendy.”

“It’s so loud here, Hobie.” Her grip on his shirt tightens, and that’s how he knows that she’s real. “She’s so fucking loud.”

“Who?”

“The ghost.” Sniffing, frown deepening, she leans away. “S–She keeps saying things, fucked up things.”

There’s something creaking behind him, and he chalks it to the old house making sounds.

“What kind of things?”

“About you, and Y/N.” Tears blur in her eyes as Hobie carefully moves her hair away from her wet cheeks.

“Gwen—”

“She said that you ruin everything you touch, that she’ll die if you don’t—”

“It’s awful to tell lies, sweetling.” Your voice echoes from behind, but it’s not the same tone you usually give him during the early nights where your limbs are tangled around him. No, it’s something antediluvian, ancient, whispering right into his head.

Gwen yelps, and Hobie’s immediately up on his feet, backing away from you, something he has never done before. He grasps Gwen in his arms, clutching the back of her head as he sees the sarcophagus lid open and in full display while you peek around it.

Your eyes smile at him, irises large, covered in black liner that drips onto your cheek. Nails tapping against the wood, golden bangles clinking against the other, you giggle, preferring to hide the other half of your face.

“You’re not her. Let her go.” Hobie’s stern voice bounces off the walls, causing the lights to flicker from the sheer volume.

“Make her stop!” Gwen clutches her ears, sharp claws digging into her skin.

“Shh,” you put a finger to your painted lips, bloodied red, as scarlet as the blood that flows through your veins. “It’s alright, come here, I’ll take care of you like always, hm?”

“Hobie, don’t let me go!” Gwen hides herself further against him, crying into his chest.

“I won’t, I won’t.” Hobie keeps her close, eyes never straying too far from you, or what is currently possessing your body. “Show your real self then, c’mon, don’t be shy.”

“Oh, I’m my true self.” Your giggles sends shivers down his spine, not the usual kind as you step out into the light. Arms on your sides, showing yourself off and grinning from ear to ear, Hobie feels like he was flung back in time.

There you stand, clad in white linen that drapes around your form, a kalasiris that’s almost sheer as the light touches it, daintily painted with royal blue flowers. You may not have the exact same face as the woman he once knew a thousand lifetimes ago, but the smile you don on is the exact same one he loved, once prayed for to see as the dawn breaks.

You wear golden jewelries straight from the displays around the room, beads that are a mirror of the ones he used to trace with his fingers delicately. The things adorning your body aren’t the real deal, some are replicas, fakes, but the necklace atop your broad beaded collar can’t be replicated.

“Oh this old thing?” You notice the way his eyes hone in on the ankh dangling around your neck. “Do you like it?”

Hobie has never felt this much fear and anger in his heart until now. “How—”

“You’re not the only one that has keepsakes.” Biting your lip, your fingers play with the pendant. “Ironic, no? Seeing that the person who gave me this was the opposite of life itself.” You say with a lilt, dropping your smile as you gaze back at him. “Oh, Hobart, you look just the same. Pity that I look different every time you meet me with every generation that comes and goes.” Smacking your lips together, you take an eerie step forward. “Maybe someday you’ll fuck one that looks exactly like me.”

Hobie’s eyes widen when you lunge at him suddenly, teeth bared, hissing and screaming like a banshee.

“Fuck!” Jumping up to the ceiling, he keeps his hold onto Gwen, who keeps her eyes shut as he perches in the corner. “You good there, Gwendy?” She shakes her head, clawing at her ears, bleeding onto his collar.

You look up at him with a chuckle. “Aw, come down here, you’re no fun.”

“Yeah, no, lovie.”

“Please?” You give him your puppy dog eyes.

Hobie shakes his head, “that’s not goin’ to work on me.”

“But it always does the trick.” Frowning, you then leap up, trying to claw at him before he dodges and lands on the ground with a thud. You now look down at him, grinning, digging your claws in as you crawl upside down on the ceiling. “And here I thought you loved me.”

“I do.” His words make you stunned in place, as if he knocked you out. While Gwen clings to him, he spots the water gun filled with holy water right beside the settee. “I fuckin’ do, my love. Stop this, let her go and we’ll talk like always. Remember our tree?”

Eyes softening, lips wobbling, a tear escapes and plunges down on his cheek. “Hobie?” Your tone changes, one that he’s more recently familiar with.

“Yeah, lovie, it’s me.” Hobie telepathically tells Gwen his plan before gently placing her down on her feet. She looks apprehensive, but nods along with determination. “C’mon then, let’s talk, yeah?”

Gently crawling down, lips downturned, whilst Gwen slowly inches her way towards the water gun. Her foot accidentally knocks against the plastic, causing you to abruptly stop mid crawl.

Your head cranes up to stare at him, dead set to sink your claws right into his neck.

“Shit.” Hobie takes the brunt of the collision, it may not be you in there anymore but it’s still your body getting bruised and beaten. “Gwen!” Shielding his head, your nails scratch and stab him as you straddle his front. Your screeches will haunt his dreams. “Hurry up!”

“I’m trying! It’s the pump action kind! Fuck!” He could hear the squeaking of the toy.

“Do you know why she ran off when she heard that vampire’s question, hm?” Your hands grasp at his wrist, trying to unfurl his arms as you lean as close as you could, eyes manic, grinning like a maniac. “She doesn’t want you, she doesn’t even care for you. She’s repulsed by the idea of having your children.”

Hobie tries to ignore the venom laced in your words, still on the defense.

You notice the plastic squeaking and you turn your attention right at the werewolf. But Hobie traps you in his hold, long legs enveloping around your waist, hands gripping onto your wrist tightly that it leaves marks on your skin. He’d apologize to you later, but his priority is getting you back. With his strength, he keeps you in place even when you snarl and try to bite at his face hungrily.

“Gwen!”

“Take this, you bitch!” Water is sprayed all over you and Hobie, drenching your face, smudging the dark liner even further.

Heaving, you freeze but you’re unharmed, a grin spreading across your face. “Ouch, that tickles.” Licking the water, you cackle, as you manage to escape Hobie’s hold, pouncing at Gwen with intent to kill.

“No!” Hobie reaches for you as Gwen braces for impact. He takes hold of the necklace, yanking you backwards as the chain breaks and you slide down on the floor from the sheer momentum. He fears that he accidentally hurt you when you don’t move on the floor. “No, no, lovie.”

“Hobie, don’t!” Gwen captures his arm, the pendant swinging from his closed fist. “She could be faking.”

“It’s Y/N—”

“I know, it’s the necklace that has its hold on her, you need to destroy it.”

Sure enough, when you move slowly, floating back up on your feet with ease, your laugh floods the whole room as the lights flicker. “He can’t, not when it means so much to him. Weren’t you out looking for it for years?”

Hobie gazes at the necklace, thumb rubbing along the ruby in the center. If it means having you back, so be it. When he turns back to you, your smile falls, screaming as you pounce towards him.

Throwing the necklace down, Hobie quickly smashes it against the heel of his foot, shattering the necklace into a thousand pieces as a puff of red smoke fades out. Catching you in his arms with ease, you fall limp into his arms, as Hobie sighs in relief.

Hobie carries you, a hand moving your hair to check on your sleeping face. He could hear your heart beating steadily against him, breath fanning his lips as he hopes that you don’t remember a thing when you wake up.

Gwen relaxes, dropping down on the settee as she holds her head in her hands. “Is she okay?” She asks, voice muffled by her hands.

“Yeah, she’s fine.” Hobie joins Gwen’s side, cradling you against him on the sofa, keeping you safe. “You did good, Gwendy, she’d be proud of you.”

“I have no idea how she does this every day.” Kneading her forehead, Hobie pats her head affectionately. “Who was that, Hobie?” Lifting her head, eyes still teary, she takes one worried look at your sleeping face. “She was saying a lot of things about you. Crazy shit.”

“Someone from the past.” Hobie leans back on the chair, easing himself further as he steadies his breathing. His arms bleed, but as he holds onto your bloodied hand, he’s more worried of his blood and flesh sticking into your nails while he attempts to clean them. “Jus’ forget what she told you, it’s probably a spirit tryin’ to impersonate her.”

“How would a spirit even do that?”

“Things hold memory, Gwen.” He utters softly, a hand cupping your cheek and fixing your hair.

“What if…” her brows knit together. “What if that was really her, whoever she was.”

Hobie shakes his head, sighing as his eyes glance at the broken necklace on the floor. “That wasn’t her.” He turns to Gwen. “She wouldn’t say those things.”

“Your memory could be wrong, Hobie. It’s been a thousand years.”

“When it comes to her, I don’t forget anythin’.”

Gwen looks like she’s about to say something else, lips pursing together, fists opening and closing before she lets out a breath. “Did you actually kill—”

“Gwen!” Miles kicks down the door as it slams against the wall. The dodo bird saunters in, waddling like it owns the place. His eyes finally meets hers and he lets out a relieved sigh. “You’re alive—! What happened here?” He looks at the messed up room as Pavitr pushes him away.

His face falls when he sees you limp in Hobie’s arms. “She’s dead!”

“She’s alive, Pav.” Gwen says flatly, standing up and looking away from you and Hobie.

“She’s alive!” Pavitr rejoices and runs toward you, checking your pulse. “What’d you do now, old man?!”

“This time, it’s not my fault.” Hobie manages a tired smile.

“It kinda is.” Gwen mutters, arms folded over her chest.

Miles looks at her with knitted brows. “Seriously, don’t keep us hanging.”

“She got possessed by a spirit. We took care of it.” She says monotonously, eyes glancing at the mess.

“I should’ve seen that coming.”

“Where’s Gayatri and the pixie guy—?”

“No!” Harry appears from the broken door, looking like the scream painting. “I knew it! You hurt her!” He points an accusing finger at Hobie.

“She’s alive, mate.” The vampire moves you away from Harry’s touch as he makes an offended expression. Hobie simply clicks his tongue and turns to Pav, who’s wiping your wet face carefully with a handkerchief. “Where’s your bird? I need to ask her questions.”

“Why? And I don’t know, I lost her inside the Klimt room.” The dodo bird seems to agree as it chirps and pecks at the cracked ruby on the floor.

“Ooh, the Klimt room, how romantic!” Miles teases, nudging Gwen and trying to get her into the joke. She just looks away and walks out of the room without another word. Hobie stares at her retreating back with a frown. “What’s wrong with her?”

“This is why you’ve been single for a long time, Miles.” Pav chortles out as he picks up the ruby from the dodo’s beak.

“Hey! You’re single too!”

“Can you give me that, Pav.” Hobie instructs as Pavitr hands him the ruined ruby.

“Can I have that?” Harry points at it, but Hobie quickly pockets it, glancing at you briefly. “Come on, it’s broken anyway.”

“It’s cursed, d’you really want it?”

Harry smacks his lips together. “No, not anymore.”

“Man, she’s really napping, huh?” Miles leans against the wall casually as he watches the lone dodo bird waddle around the room while Pavitr plays tag with it. His eyes wonder at your bloodied nails and then at Hobie's scratched arms, putting two and two together. “I mean, I’d be sleeping too if I got possessed—”

“Unicycle!” You suddenly jolt awake, making everyone jump in place, clutching their pearls. Panting, you cautiously look around you, eyes landing at a relieved Hobie, who gazes at you with tenderness. “I had the weirdest dream, babe. Shit’s crazy.”

Chuckling, eyes glistening over, Hobie cups the back of your head and brings you close for an embrace. “I bet it was, lovie.” He softly says against your neck, pressing a gentle kiss right on your pulse.

Harry has an intense look on his face, confusion and disgust warping his expression. Miles and Pavitr are the ones to notice as they share a knowing look before grabbing the other hunter by the arm and leading him away with an excuse.

“I think we saw a nest of pixies down the hall!” Pavitr tells a convincing lie.

“Pixies, you say?!” While Harry hurries along right behind the ushering pair.

You hug back, arms enveloping around him affectionately. “I’ll tell you all about it later— what the fuck happened to my hands?” Leaning away, glancing at your bangles, bloodied nails and newly acquired outfit, you meet with Hobie’s eyes questioningly. “Why am I dressed like a discount Cleopatra?”

Grinning and laughing, Hobie reaches for your cheek and decides to peck at every inch of your face, clearly endeared and relieved that you don’t remember a thing.

His soft kisses has you falling into a fit of giggles. Lips brushing along the curve of your jaw, to your eyelids that smile at him, then the corner of your lips and down to your bare neck. Kissing and loving you in a way that he could freely show when he couldn’t a thousand years ago.

“What’s gotten into you?” Smiling, you hold onto his cheeks, lips frozen mid pout. “What happened to the ghost?”

“Gwen and I exorcised it.” He says through pouted lips as you squeeze his cheeks together.

“You did? Without me?” It’s your turn to pout. “I missed all the fun. Miles would be pissed. Where is Gwen anyway? Is she okay?”

“He’ll live. And she’s fine, went out for some air, I think.” Taking your palm, he brings your finger to his lips, kissing it gently while keeping his sight on you. “It was an easy one, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You nod, distracted by the way he kisses your hand like it’s your lips. “Seriously, did you hypnotize me into role playing? Because you know that you don’t have to do your little mind games with me when you could just ask.”

“I'd never hypnotize you for somethin’ like that, lovie.” Moving close, fang poking at the corner of his lip, he nips at your bottom lip as your breath hitches in your throat. “Besides, I know you’d say yes to dressin’ up.”

Nudging his nose with your own, you feel his laughter reverberating in his chest. “You know me well.” Leaning away with one last kiss on the tip of his nose, your eyes sparkle with life. “How’d I end up here anyway? Last time I remembered I got sucked into some weird room with a necklace and I blacked out.”

“How’d you manage that, hm?” He couldn't keep his hands or eyes off you, yearning for you to stay in his presence and languish within your space.

“I got stuck in a sarcophagus—” gasping, you suddenly remember the important thing you learned. “Wait, I need you to come with me!” Standing up, you take both of his hands and guide him out of the stuffy room.

“Am I goin’ to get my present?” Hobie follows willingly, interlocking his fingers around yours as he watches your back whilst you glance his way every so often. Your linen dress trails behind you, and for a moment, Hobie sees the past where you run just in front of him in a field of reeds.

“Something better! I hope.” You mutter the last word.

Hobie blinks, and he comes back to the present. Happier to be in the present rather than be stuck in the past.

Entering the closest room to the outside of the house, you enter a plain sitting room that matches the rest of the decor. No hauntings, no cold spots, and no winding infinite hallways to stop you. You guess that Hobie and Gwen really finished the job.

Stopping by a closed window, you peek through the curtains, finding that dawn is almost breaking in the horizon. The sky is in your favorite state, a bitter blue encapsulating the whole world. A cold and fresh breeze whispering in the trees, just as the first sounds of the morning comes to life.

Opening the blinds, you turn to him just as the blue light hits your form, the linen fabric brings little resistance to light as it lines your body without hiding you within the halo of royal blue.

“Love,” he says breathlessly, swallowing down his need and resists the urge to grab you and take you home. “If this is it then ‘m bloody well satisfied.”

Rolling your eyes with a chortle, your shining eyes balance out the cold, a warmth that’s enough to thaw his frozen heart.

“No, I’m not it, Hobie.” You say softly, beckoning him over, stretching your hand over to him as he slides his palm over to you. “We wait for the sun.”

His crimson eyes swirl with trepidation. “You know that It’ll kill me, right?”

“I read something in that sarcophagus, a story about one of the first vampires to be born.” Hobie’s eye twitches, letting you continue. “It was a typical love story, where a boy meets a girl in a forbidden love that ends in death. But that’s not why we’re here.”

His eyes glance worriedly at the rising sun behind you. “Better hurry up with your story, love, or you’ll be snoggin’ a pile of ashes soon.”

“Shit, that sun rises fast.” Turning to look at him, you smile brightly. “Do you trust me?”

“That depends, d’you trust that dusty old sarcophagus?”

“It said that vampires older than seven centuries could survive the sun. So yes, I’m willing to try if you would.” Bringing his hand to your lips, you kiss his knuckles desperately. “Hobie, if this works, you can feel alive again.”

“Jus’ bein’ around you makes me feel alive.” He answers back, despite your soft kisses, the thought of him dying in front of you scares him. And yet he nods and lets you bring him towards the window.

He trusts you.

Your heart swells at his words, but you know him, Hobie harbours sadness within, behind those sweet smiles and tender eyes— he longs to feel the sun on his skin, to feel alive and walk amongst other people in the light and not be hidden beneath the darkness anymore. A kind soul like him deserves to be seen in the light.

“We’ll start off with your hand, okay? Just in case.” The apprehension lingers in your voice, wobbly and terrified. With the wind blowing, the sunlight slowly creeping into the window, you open the glass a smidge and bring the intertwined hands outside and towards the light— waiting for the sun to come.

Hobie’s eyes are on you the whole time, if he crumbles to dust right there and then, he’d want his last vision to be of you, basking in the creeping light. He could see that you’re worried, and the sight of the camera crew running outside with their large equipment adds to his anxiety. Great, they’ll either see something revolutionary or capture a vampire dying for the first time.

The crew stations themselves near enough to film the whole scene— the sunlight slowly coming towards the window, with you subtly shaking and with him keeping steady, being your rock as he lets it happen.

Hobie felt the warmth before he saw it. The sun perfectly lines around his wrist and your own, yellow light bathing the lovers’ hands. Like an oil painting drenched in light.

His flesh doesn’t tear apart nor melt into your hand. And he doesn’t feel faint or dying, he feels warm. Life envelops him with every second that passes as the sun shines right up to his elbow. Bloodied tears blur his vision. He’s alive again.

You gasp, eyes stinging with tears as you meet with his scarlet eyes. “I’m so glad I learned how to read hieroglyphics—”

His lips collide with your own in a fervent kiss. Hands on your face as he tastes you, blood pulsing, heated as the sun shines fully on the two of you.

Your arms loop around the back of his head, pulling him closer, chest to chest as if you could feel his frozen heartbeat against your own. You let out a breathless sigh, and he takes you in fully, pulling you impossibly closer, deepening the kiss, slow and deliberate, as if you and him are joined as one. He feels his flesh rise with goosebumps, hands gripping onto you like you’re his life line.

Needing to breathe, you’re the first one to pull away reluctantly. Eyes blown out, panting and heaving above his parted lips, you rest your forehead atop his own, breathing him in. Fresh linen and citrus, crimson eyes that gazes at you and only you.

You finally see him in heavenly light, the sun cast upon him, red eyes turning a shade lighter as the rays hit his chiseled face.

Hobie wipes away a fallen tear from your eye, chuckling happily as he lets the warmth of the sun kiss his skin. Nothing could compare to your warmth, but this is a close second.

“I didn’t turn to dust.” He whispers, wiping the sheen off your lips with his thumb.

“I’m glad you didn’t.” You shake your head, smiling and pecking his warm cheek.

“What use is a ball of fire to a waking god?” He hears the words in your voice, but your lips remain smiling at him, gazing at him fondly. Just like what happened today, he tucks it inside his head and ignores the whispering voice haunting him.

“Love.” His tone is sweeter than anything you’ve tasted. “We can go to the beach.”

He could already see dancing with you under the sun and the sand beneath your feet.

Chuckling, a stifled sob escapes from your chest. “Yeah, we can. Just say the word.”

Arms enveloping around your waist, he lifts you off your feet and twirls you in place as you laugh. “Let’s go now, we can go right now.”

“Hobie, the kids—”

“Go, go, out!” The door abruptly opens, and Gayatri ushers the trio out frantically.

Gwen has a deep frown, arms crossed over her chest. Even when you wave at her, she doesn’t look back. Keeping her gaze away from you for some reason. Miles clutches onto the dodo bird, refusing to let go as Pavitr looks like he wants to stay for a little while longer.

You share a questioning look with Hobie, still elated by the discovery.

“What’s happening?” You ask, grabbing Pav’s elbow before he jumps out of the window. “Is the house on fire or what? And where’s Harry?” The answer to your last question pops up when you hear Harry’s car start and you then see him peel away into the street. “What a dickhead.” You mumble, which Hobie’s the only one to hear, pinching your side with a chortle.

Pav’s about to answer, but Gayatri beats him to it.

“My mentor’s coming! Look, thank you for everything, I’ll compensate you and show my thanks properly but you all have to go right now.” Her arms gesture towards the opened window. “Please?”

“I’m sure your mentor will understand—”

“She will! She’s really kind and thoughtful, but her witch friends aren’t and they’re all coming for breakfast.” Gayatri flicks her hand to the door and shuts it close with a bang and a click of the lock. “That’ll give us some time but please, I’m so so sorry, I promise I’ll make it up to all of you.”

“Come to our house for dinner?” You offer kindly and she grins, nodding. “Pleasure doing business with you, Gayatri, stop by whenever you’re free.” You hop out with a lighter heart. You even smile at the crew, and Jared the cameraman smiles right back at you despite his recent injury. For the first time, you’ll ask them for the footage and have it as a keepsake.

Hobie agrees, giving her a smile before leaping out into the lawn. “We’ll make somethin’ from Snoop Dogg’s cook book.” He says as he grabs the dodo bird from Miles’ arms and releases it back inside the house, before he could protest about it, Hobie then yanks him out of the window. He stretches his hand out for Gwen, but she stares at his hand for a second and leaps away without his help. “Right,” he keeps his composure as you look at them both curiously. “I still need to talk to you, Gayatri, ‘bout all the shit inside.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” She nods and tugs at Pav’s hand bashfully before he could jump out. “Thank you so much, Pav, really, you saved my ass back there.”

Pavitr has a wobbly smile, “n–no problem, Gaya.”

Leaning towards her fellow apprentice, Gayatri pecks his cheek chastely. Before he could even react, she utters a spell that has him floating outside gently onto the lawn.

“Bye Gaya…” Pavitr giggles, waving shyly at her.

Hobie could sense the new heartbeats coming, so he takes you all in his arms, bracing to run towards the car.

“Wait,” somebody finally notices as Miles stares at Hobie with furrowed brows. “You’re in the sunlight and you’re not turning to stone?”

“New power, big man.” Hobie simply winks while the trio’s eyes widen at the information.

“Oh shit—” Gwen gasps before Hobie zooms to the car at the speed of light with everyone in tow.

—

“I’ll write a ‘no’ for now.” Quill utters, thick rimmed glasses falling down their nose as they write at the form.

“Sorry for bailing on you, Quill.” You say, hand never leaving Hobie’s side the whole time, while the crew gladly stands behind you two to gather the conclusion of the council visit.

“It’s good you came back because I was about to send out Bob for you.” They monotonously say, glancing at you and Hobie briefly. “Hunter or not, no one can kill him.” Sliding the papers on the table over to your side, they eye the wooden stake at your waist. “Sign here.”

“What is Bob anyway?” Your pen scribbles out your signature before handing the forms to Hobie.

“Does Bob still like baklavas?” Hobie adds, signing his name right beside yours officially.

Your heart thuds in your chest, but Hobie’s hand grounds you in place. “Maybe we can bring you guys some—”

“He grew out of it.” They scoff, gathering the papers and slams a stamp right on it.

“Okay then.” You awkwardly say in between your teeth.

“Is that it? Can we go now?” Hobie just wants to go home and continue the celebration with everyone. Especially you, alone, in the coffin with him.

“Not yet, we need a blood sacrifice. A hand will do.”

“Wait, what?”

Hobie grasps your hand tighter, ready to pounce if need be.

Sighing, they point at the sharp end of the fountain pen. “Just a prick of the needle.”

“Oh,” chuckling nervously, you’re about to give your hand out but Hobie goes first just in case. Quill pricks at the back of his hand quickly, gathering a drop of his blood and placing it on the parchment. Hobie gives you a reassuring look, encouraging you to continue. “I guess it’s my turn now.” With new found bravery, you show your hand and they do the same to you, completely painless. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Tugging at your hand, Hobie brings it to his lips, giving the back of your hand a kitten lick to heal you. It’s safe to say that your mind wasn’t quiet as he whispers sweet nothings inside your head that you welcome gladly.

Clearing their throat, bursting the little bubble around you that even the crew are glad for Quill’s interruption, they file the form into a cabinet elegantly. “You should receive the certificate within three to five years.”

“That’s a long wait.” Snorting, you’re up on your feet while Hobie’s so eager to come home that he lifted you off the chair by your hand.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, lovie.” He says inside your head, taking you in his embrace before disappearing into a puff of smoke and leaving the council and the crew behind.

They stand awkwardly with their bright lights and boom mics before the relations officer.

“You hiring? Do you have dental?” Quill asks genuinely.

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