itoshikha

[itoshikha]

be more like the great papyrus

happy let papyrus say fuck day its like christmas but 100 times better

[itoshikha]

slc punk (1998) movie poster adaptation🎸💥

[itoshikha]

Hobat sneaking into your bag so now you have to keep a tiny bat safe and comfortable until classes end. You know the trope if bringing an animal to school? Either a puppy or kitten and everyone fawns over it and slowly finds out it's in the classroom. 🫡

Ahhhhh hobat my beloved!!! ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you like it, bestie!

Pairing: Vampire! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, Vampire au, hunter! Reader, established relationship, Hobat au, cw food mentions, lovestruck! Hobie, Jealous! Hobie, set in my vampire series (in pursuit of blood), fluff!

Navigation

You shouldn't have brought Hobie to night school if you knew he'd be a menace most of the time inside your bag. He insisted when he overheard you talking to Gwen about an old fling being a classmate of yours. He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he can't help his supersonic hearing when the walls of his home are older than the eiffel tower. To his credit, he did apologize when you sniffed out his lie of asking to come with because he heard that a fellow vampire could be your classic lit 101 professor. After a bit more convincing on his end, which is cuddling in the coffin while he whispers to you affectionately in a language that predates Julius Caesar, you let him come with you to class in one condition— Stay in his Hobat form and stay hidden inside your bag.

It was all fine and dandy at first as you showed him around campus while he told you small historical facts about the place. You even fed him cafeteria french fries while you studied. He didn't like it, but the way he was munching inside your backpack says otherwise. You liked the thrill, it was like you brought your cat to school when it's forbidden. Like Mary and her little lamb, but as the night continues and he gets bored inside your bag, it gets harder to hide the fact that you brought a bat to night school. It all sounds like the start of a joke.

Hobie wiggles inside your bag that's on your lap, squeaking inside as he reads your notes about Emily Brontë. With a telepathic line connected with you, he speaks in your head while you try to listen to the lesson in front of you.

“Your handwritin’ is shit, love. Didn't they teach you cursive?”

“Fuck off, Hobie.” You reply in your head, but your annoyed expression still shows. “I was homeschooled, and our elders didn't exactly teach anything beyond how to throw a knife or basic spells.”

“That explains a lot.” He snickers inside, the squeaking gets a few people's attention.

You fake a sneeze, looking at them apologetically until they turn their heads away from you. “Keep it down! They can still hear your rat noises! And what the fuck does that mean?!”

“‘m goin' to ignore the fact that you called me a rat, love.” You feel him move around inside your bag. “And I didn't mean anythin’ by that.” His sing-song tone would usually have you gazing at him gently, but with you paying an ungodly amount for night school, his behaviour has you more annoyed than endeared. He does however look cute in his tiny bat form, but that thought escapes you when he peeks his fluffy head out of the zipper of your bag, a q-tip in between his fangs. “Why do you have a used q-tip in ‘ere?”

Groaning audibly, the sound echoing inside the silent classroom, everyone, even the professor stops to look at you. “Sorry, I have to take a call.” Making up an excuse, you gather your things and shove it inside your bag haphazardly while ignoring Hobie's protests in your mind. “Sorry, excuse me.” Slinking out of the hall, you exit out with your head down.

“That fuckin’ hurt!” He rubs his tiny head, peeking through the opened zipper as you ignore him and find a quiet janitor's closet to hide in.

“Good!” You say audibly, flicking the light switch to show your anger towards the bat. “I told you that you can stay if you're quiet, Hobie!”

Flying above you, he matches your height. “I was! Until I saw your shit take about ‘Emma!’”

“It was my opinion! That was the assignment!”

Hobie's about to reply back with another quip, but his ear picks up the sound of footsteps outside. Immediately turning back to his usual form, black smoke fills your vision before you're gently shoved against the shelf. Jugs of cleaners and mops fall down as you feel his lips lightly press against your own. Your instincts tell you to kiss back, despite your previous anger, you kiss him like always, anger dissipating and fading to annoyance until his lips kiss back in tandem then you've forgotten what you were arguing about. You find that he always has that effect on you. Knowing that he'll never use vampire hypnotism on you or anyone, it's safe to say that it's just his lips and touch making you melt in his arms.

The door creaks open, light flooding inside. Hobie pulls away, pecking you once more before looking over his shoulder. “Care to knock, mate?” His hand cradles the back of your head while the other holds your waist. Gentle as he avoids his sharp nails from poking you.

“This isn't a motel.” A gruff voice says, you see him tapping his foot against the floor through Hobie's arm. “Get out or I'll call the dean.”

“Shit, yes, sorry.” Pushing Hobie off of you, the fear of getting suspended tamps out the need to kiss him. Tugging him by his belt loops, you couldn't look the stranger in the eyes as you lead him away. You don't let him go until you're out in the near empty courtyard. Sighing in relief, you lean against the wall and cradle your face in embarrassment.

“Love.”

“Stop.”

“I haven't even said anythin' yet.” Chuckling, Hobie taps your shoe with his.

“I know what you were about to say just from your tone.” Your muffled voice has him laughing more. “It's not funny. That was embarrassing.”

Gently, he takes your hands away from your face, meeting with your eyes as you gaze back to his wine red ones. “‘m sorry, ‘m a wanker.”

“You were.” Stomping your foot like you're throwing a tantrum, Hobie cups your cheeks, hands colder than the night air. “I know you were bored but you could've just said so and I'd take you outside so you could go home.”

“Nah, I wasn't bored.” His thumb traces your cheek. “And I don't want to go home without you.”

“Then why were you being annoying? You know how much this means to me.”

With a sigh, Hobie, a fearsome thousand year old vampire, places his head on your shoulder and exhales like a lovelorn school boy. He mumbles something incoherent and you have to nudge and ask him what kind of sound he just let out.

“Iwastryingtogetyourattention.” He says quickly, barely catching what he meant.

“Hobie, didn't your governess tell you not to mumble?” Joking back, he leans away, eyes narrowed at you.

“I never had a governess.”

“Well, that explains a lot.” Throwing his words back at him, he tamps down a chortle, fangs peeking through his lips. “Come on, why do you need to get my attention when you have it almost 24/7?”

“I saw the bloke that you talked ‘bout with Gwen.” He rests against your clavicle, the position is awkward with his stature, back bent like a shrimp and his hand mindlessly playing with a string from your jumper. “He kept starin’ at you, lovie.”

“Aww,” you coo, hands rubbing along his back. “My big bad vampire is jealous.”

Hobie abruptly yanks himself off you. “I can rip him to shreds.”

“I know you can.” Smiling, you cradle his cheeks, immediately calming him down. “I didn't even notice him there. I was listening to the lesson.”

“You were?” He asks, hands gravitating towards your hips. “I thought—”

“Your jealousy knows no bounds, Hobie Brown.” Poking him, you lean forward and kiss his cheek. “I swear every full moon you're like this, you're like a werewolf but instead of transforming you turn into a green monster of jealousy. Seriously, not even Pav is safe when we drove out for two hours to get his wizard robes.” Maybe something in your ancient tomes says something about vampires and their monthly bouts of jealousy.

“Only for you, lovie.” Puckering his lips, he tries to kiss you but you block him with your hand.

“Nuh uh, you're not getting off that easily. Fly home, Hobat, before I take out my stake.”

“But—”

“Go, or I'll tell our housemates what you did.”

“Not even one—”

“Guess I have to sleep in my own bed tonight.” You fake a sigh.

With a puff of smoke, Hobie turns back into a bat, wings flapping loudly as he squeaks. “Already flyin’ away!”

Smiling as you gaze at his retreating form, you wince. “Now I have to apologize to the custodian. I hope he likes cafeteria cookies.” You think.

“We're still linked, lovie! I'd like some cookies!”

You're never bringing Hobie to class ever again no matter how much he flashes his puppy dog eyes at you and kisses you softly. Maybe, probably.

[itoshikha]

[itoshikha]

Part 17 in my weekly poster series of 2025

[itoshikha]

The prompt was ‘detention.’

[itoshikha]

EEEEEEEEP GET ME SOME DILF! HOBIE TO MUNCH ON!!

Elder berries for my Beloved Bobart Brown with ❣️!! (I had a temporary war w myself trying to choose between ❣️ or ⭐) where R is chasing BBB (beloved Bobart Brown) cuz she has a big fat crush on him while he's like, "uhhh, you're cute but you do know that I'm way to old for you?" but R is a little hard headed y'know.

Hope I'm not asking for too much🥲

Watch me pull a "Too Sweet + Guys my age + Older + Favorite" combo for the next whole hour or so:3

AAHHHHHHH OLDER HOBIE! Thank you for requesting, rozey!

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, older! Hobie, cw alcohol mention, awkward flirting, fluff!

A/N: Special thanks to @yumeaoka-chan bc their comment abt aaron single-handedly inspired this one 🤭

One year celebration 🎉

The giggling and the chatter of your friends are muffled in your ears as you watch him pass the doors of the pub. It's as if cupid himself struck an arrow right at your heart. He looks fit, like he just strutted out of a runway and into the dim pub. He wears leather well, jacket practically sculpted to his form. His hair is in long braids, all tied together in a ponytail that has the small silver charms clicking against each other. Then you spot the grey hairs weaved around the pretty braids, white hair running from the sides, earning him the title of a silver fox in your heart. Then there's his eyes, amber, soft and kind against the yellow lights of the pub. He has crow’s feet around those golden eyes, a testament that he has smiled a lot in his life.

As he strides towards the bar, his posture casual, hands tucked inside his pockets and with the nonchalance of someone who owns the place. Judging by how he paid for the single pint he ordered, that's not the case. But the curt nod exchanged by the handsome stranger and the bartender says that he's a regular. He just has that air around him that turns heads, admiration or something more as you see some patrons glance his way— all having the same shining eyes you probably have right now.

You purse your lips when he wraps his lithe ringed fingers around the glass, but before he sips, he blinks, head craning to look in your direction.

Caught in the act, you almost squeak, hands gripping at the glass of your forgotten drink as the handsome older stranger tilts his head, a smile curling on the corner of his lips. His eyes seem to gaze at you for hours, but with a parting chuckle from him, he turns back towards his lone drink.

“Shit.” You curse under your breath, palms clammy as you swallow thickly just from how you remembered his eyes meeting your own.

Your friends seem to notice your obvious gawking, and Betty, your best friend, taps your shoulder with a raise of her neat brow. “If you don't talk to him now, I will.”

“Don’t you dare.” Glaring, she giggles, pushing you off the booth until you're tethering off the edge of the rough leather seat. “Betty!” You whisper yell, gripping the end of the table.

“Go,” she continues to urge you, pinching your sides as you hop off the seat with a wince. “Go use your pretty girl charm and get your old man!”

“What charm?” Trying to sit back down, she quickly slides over to your seat, blocking you. “Betty!” Your friends stifle a laugh.

“How about a bet, to encourage you to put your pretty ass out there, hm?” She pokes your stomach, still sitting in your seat. You roll your eyes, pushing her away with your knee to no avail. “If you get his number, then we'll buy you that book you've been raving about.”

“Really?” You perk up, staring at your friends as they nod with a chuckle. “You better not be fucking with me, Betty, that's a really expensive book, it's limited edition.”

Betty almost falters. “Well, if we split it then it won't be, right?” She gets a few reluctant nods. “Besides, do you think you'll get his number?”

“For the book? Yes, bonus I get myself a boyfriend that would go to the store to buy me pads— and yes, I'm looking at you Anna and your Chad, who thinks wings are actually chicken wings.” A round of guffaws echoes out as Anna nods and sends you off with a pat on your behind.

As you start crossing the distance towards the mysterious hot stranger, you start to feel the nerves ebbing through you. Your hands are like waterfalls, and your legs feel like jelly once you get near enough to smell his cologne. Not overpowering that would give you the ick, it's citrus with a hint of fresh linen and mint.

You slide on the stool beside him, not knowing what to do with your hands as you put it on the counter then immediately change your mind and put it over your lap.

He raises a pierced brow, side eyeing you over the rim of his glass. “You’re punchin’ above your age range, love.”

Fuck, even his voice sends shivers down your arms. A good kind of shiver, not the type that you get when there's a scary movie playing.

“Really? I thought you were my age.” That's a shit reply, you thought to yourself, cringing. You close your eyes then swallow down your nerves before exhaling and craning your neck to finally look at him. “So, what's your poison?”

A smile slowly spreads on his pierced lips, eyes roaming around the curve of your jaw before meeting your own. “A girl after my own heart.”

“I'm not a girl, I'm a woman.” That sounded better in your head. You bite your lip to suppress a pained groan as you try to flag down the bartender.

He looks you up and down before flicking his eyes to yours once again. “Clearly.”

Your cheeks are on fire. Not getting a word out, the bartender ignores you.

He swallows the last of his drink, placing the glass down before flicking his wrist, index and middle raised as he calls the bartender effortlessly. You're in awe as the bartender walks over to him.

“A whiskey, neat for me and a cherry daiquiri for the…” he smirks, eyes glancing at you for a moment. “...Woman.”

You huff in your seat, cheeks still aflame. “How'd you know that's my drink?”

“Saw you cradlin’ it while you were oglin’ me.” The drinks slide on the counter, and he catches them before handing you your own. “A cherry daiquiri for the woman.” He teases with a glint in his eyes.

“Fine, I get it, I'm not your type.” Your shoulders slump, inhaling deeply and accepting defeat. “At least let me pay for the drinks.”

“Now, I didn't say anythin' ‘bout that.” His eyes grow softer, head tilting as he smiles, a genuine one, not a playful one. “Who said you're not my type?”

“Y–You, wait– no, I did. Yeah I did.” You stutter, almost fumbling off your seat as he grins at you.

“That right?” He rolls his shoulders, finger tapping the glass of his amber drink. “I figured I owe you a conversation with you payin’ and the book on the line.”

Chuckling nervously, you play with the hem of your dress. He keeps gazing at you like you're the only person in the whole pub, like all of his attention is on you. “W–What book?” You're caught red handed.

“The book that you'll get if you manage to get my number. What kind of book is it then?” He takes a sip, and you find yourself ogling at his bobbing Adam's apple.

You shake your thoughts away, taking your own drink and sipping at it, all the while trying not to choke from the pretty sight in front of you. “It's a new edition of my favourite book. It has a new cover, and they only made like a hundred of them.”

“Shit, is it the one from S. Collins?”

Your eyes widen, expression lighting up from the mention. “Yes! It's by her! Have you read it?”

“Read it? Love, I read all of ‘em.”

Grinning, the two of you fall into a smooth and casual conversation. From talking about books to everything under the sun. He's easy to talk to, smart and not just easy on the eyes. It's as if you've known him your whole life, and based on his easy smile, he feels the same. You don't realize it's been an hour until Betty tosses a straw at you and taps her watch.

“Shit,” you turn back towards him and his shoulders slouch with slight disappointment. “I have to go, thank you by the way. It's—” your heart already aches. “It was nice.” As you toss some bills on the counter, he stops you with his hand bracelet around your wrist gently.

“You forgot somethin', love.”

“What's that?”

“My name, it's Hobie, Hobie Brown.”

Your shyness peeks out as you tell him your name. Hobie smiles back, nodding and hiding his face by taking a napkin on the counter and writing something on it. Wait, was he flustered?

“And my number, call me when you get your book.”

[itoshikha]

🤲

[itoshikha]

omg hi frosty i missed you love!! thank you so much for the tag!

get to know your moots game ! ʚ♡ɞ

favorite color: greyish purple that's also kind of blue: it's a very unsaturated color idrk what it's called. also black,,, can't help it.

last song: i'm writing this with my headphones on uhh,, welcome to the jungle by guns n' roses 💐

current read: you by caroline kepnes! i picked it up after watching the show and omg it's so much better!! i love the writing and hate joe, which is inherently the point so i'm glad he's not romanticized ewew..

currently watching: nothing really, but i'm planning to check out sinners sometime! people are crazy about it so i gotta see what the hype is about!!😔

currently craving: spring rolls,, all of a sudden. They're so crispy i need to get some,😇

coffee or tea: i'm in the middle uh, anything caffeinated please!!😓

@viperrf1sh @thearcaneenthusiast @anchi-ya and anyone else who wants to join!

get to know your moots tag game ! ✶ answer the questions, then tag six people

favorite color ꕀ green and brown last song ꕀ tú by maye currently reading ꕀ the luminaries by susan dennard currently watching ꕀ the great british baking show currently craving ꕀ massaman curry. like always. and like. alcohol and a couple cigs HAHA. a break too :P coffee or tea ꕀ always tea! i don't like coffee

ty for the tag @saltcxrcle ! tagging: @lelapine @toadspondofwhimsy @outof-spite @h0neyst4rz @hhoneylemon @our-lady-of-venom

[itoshikha]

Between the Devil and the Sea: Beyond the Sea of Night

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Synopsis: The king is dead, long live the queen. New beginnings means new adventures, new adventures means new enemies. As the crew heads off south towards the mermaid's head, there's some familiar faces to see, and there's new people to meet. The question is, will they be friend or foe? And with what happened back in the capital stab them back? A war between siblings is afoot, a new government is standing on the precipice, which side will the bloodsail pirates join?

Word count: On going

Tags: Pirate Captain! Hobie, Fem! Reader, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing occasionally), R has nicknames, Arachkids x Reader (platonic), TW blood, TW violence, a sequel to BDAS, The first book is a must read to understand this one, fluff, angst. Set during the golden age of piracy. Specific Warnings are listed on every chapter.

Navigation

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms and copy pasted on any AI software*

Pirate Hobie fanart above by @pleaktale

Custom banners by @thats-a-mushroom

Support banner and sea banner by @/cafekitsune

Part I: The Crawfish and The Osprey.

Chapter 1. Port of Call

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Part II: A Voyage to the End of the World.

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Part III: The Heron with a Bloodied Blade and the Prodigal Captain.

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Part IV: ???

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Part V: ???

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[itoshikha]

I DON'T BELIEVE IN COMEDY! (...) JUST KIDDING!

[itoshikha]

[itoshikha]

🎸‼️

[itoshikha]

i don’t post ever but bowcoy bohart….

character designs inspired by @the-kr8tor ‘s references and fanfic!!!,!(&3&3& GO READ HER COWBOY HOBIE X READER FANFIC (and all her fanfics) CUZ THEYRE SO GOOD AND OUR PLACE IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IS SO GOOD LIKE IF SHE WAS AN OFFICIAL PUBLISHED AUTHOR ID GO BROKE BUYING HER BOOKS

summary is: go read her stuff it’s saur good 🙇 also i really like drawing horses now i feel like a horse girl 🧍

[itoshikha]

[itoshikha]

Mr. Hobart Brown

[itoshikha]

May I req a fic about Hobie and reader going out on a first date? Like I'm talking NERVOUS HOBIE

Ofc we get that princess treatment though:3

Thank you for requesting! I hope you like it ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), pining, a bit of loser! Hobie, established relationship, CW food mentions, fluff!

Navigation

When Hobie asked you out on a date, you thought that the usual flirty and nonchalant Hobie would hand you flowers or even chocolates. What you're carrying right now begs to differ. The box of garden grown onions, tomatoes, and eggplants he handed to you on your doorstep were unusual to be given to your date, yes, but it has you giggling and flustered nonetheless. They look plump and healthy, better than anything you've seen in groceries.

“I thought you'd like them instead of store bought flowers.” He says as he scratches the back of his neck nervously when you haven't answered him after he gave you his present. “I tried plantin’ flowers— your favourites but they're still buds.”

You can't believe the same suave man who asked you out all smoothly is standing before you with his hands in his pockets and eyes turned away from you. And he planted your favourite flower too? What did you do in your past life to deserve such a sweet man to give you even the time of day?

“No—no, I love them!” You suddenly exclaim. The sad disappointed expression on his face has you stepping down the doorway to his side, eyes shining with a wobbly shy smile. “Thank you, Hobie.” You want to engulf him in your arms if not for the lovely present in between you.

Hobie sighs in relief, eyes gazing at your necklace before he roams his eyes back to your flustered face. You clutch the box against your chest, it's getting heavier by the second as you both stand there like awkward crushing teenagers.

“Really?” You nod at his bewilderment. “I mean— that's good, that's fuckin' mint— ‘m chuffed, love.”

“I've been meaning to buy vegetables, but the prices have been horrendous these days.” You struggle to hold onto it, cardboard sliding down from your arms. Hobie takes the memo, grabbing underneath it, hand accidentally grasping your own as he slides the box over to him easily. The skin where he briefly touched feels like it's on fire. In a good way.

Hobie cradles it in one arm as he smiles at you sweetly. “Fuckin' tariffs.”

You nod with a chuckle. “Fucking tariffs.”

You two share an affectionate look for what seemed like forever. The city noise is muffled in your ears, and the people walking along your street fades away in your vision. It's just you and Hobie, and his vegetables.

“Shall we?” You ask with a tilted head, hands placed behind you as you nervously fidget with the ribbon on your dress. The outfit took days of decision making, after speaking to the council (your friends) you settled on a simple baby blue summer dress, that you've accidentally matched with his denim jacket. “You can leave the box inside, unless you want to lug it around the city?” You joke with a barely tamped down shyness.

Hobie shakes his head with a chortle. “Yeah— I'd look like your personal shopper instead of your date.”

Date, you still can't believe after ten whole months of pining after him that he would feel the same, that he would ask you out. Never in a million years you thought that he'd even look at you with the same fondness that you sport whenever you gaze at him across the fluorescent light coated office.

You give him a bashful chuckle, taking the box again to quickly place it on the kitchen counter. “I'll put it away for you.”

Hobie doesn't waste time in pulling the box towards him again before you could even hold it properly. “Nah, love, let me do it. Can't have my date strugglin’ now, hm?”

“The kitchen's ten steps away from here.” Your eyes crinkle at the corners as he playfully rolls his eyes.

“I won't be liable if you break your back.” He shrugs, tapping your foot with his own. He has been at your place a couple of times for drinks with friends, but never alone. It fills him with a dizzying giddiness and nerves that comes with a proper first date.

“Okay, fine, big strong man, you do it.” Standing to the side, you give him space so he could close the small distance towards the tiny kitchen island you bought off of marketplace.

“Ungrateful.” He mutters teasingly with a lilt in his tone. Even (gently) shoulder checking you as he enters the flat.

You fake a gasp, cupping your ‘wounded’ shoulder. “My date is rude.”

Hobie grins from ear to ear as he slides the box over to the counter as you ogle him from behind. The jeans he's wearing fits him well. Too well as it hugs him in all the best ways.

He turns around, acting like he's dusting his hands. He pauses on the spot, seemingly admiring you under the yellow light of your flat. Your heart lurches in your chest, hands suddenly clammy as you see him visibly sweat. The warm lights may make you look good, but it makes you see all the tiny details. Like how the corner of his lips quirk up into a subtle small smile, the silver charms in his hair, and the slight shimmery sheen on his black shirt. He looks handsome as always, but you can't help but feel shy under his gaze as you hide yourself with your arms crossed over your chest.

Hobie notices, and he has to wake himself up by slapping the rubber band that's around his wrist. “Come ‘ere often?”

“I live here, Hobie.” You beam at him with a slight roll of your eyes.

“Right, ‘m trespassin’, ain't I?” He finally gets the courage to come close to you, smelling the strawberries and cream scent of your perfume. He feels like he's floating on cloud nine.

“I don't think it counts if I invited you in.” With a trembling hand, you reach for his sleeve, fingers running over the rough denim.

He stands toe to toe with you, eyes soft and hand slowly reaching for you as you lead him outside. “W-wait hold on.”

“Hm?” You hum, and you see his hands reaching towards your neck.

“Can I?” His palm hovers around the underside of your jaw, thumb briefly brushing along your heated skin.

Your lips part slightly, breath hitching in your throat as you tug him closer to you. You're thinking that this is it, that he's about to kiss you properly this time. Not like the quick and awkward kiss you two had after his confession. It was awkward because it was during a work trip, and it was quick because he took your still lips against him as a sign that he misread your affections. He was dead wrong. It took guts to yank him back in front of you and place a kiss on the corner of his lips before someone could see you two lip locking on company time. It was the best decision you've ever made.

“Y–yeah, you can, Hobs.” You can't even hear your own voice above the thudding of your heart.

Hobie nods and leans closer as you shut your eyes. He's so close to you that you can smell his cologne. Warm hands graze your neck, fingers gently looping around your necklace as he twists it around your neck. “Sorry, it was botherin’ me.”

Your eyes open immediately, looking down at your fixed necklace where the pendant of a clover now sits right on your collarbone. “Oh.”

His brows knit together. “Oh?” Then his face morphs into realization. “Oh!” Shit. “I could still—”

“It's nothing! We should go, we're wasting precious time.” You didn't intend to have your voice so unnaturally high. You clear your throat, arm reaching behind him to close and lock your front door. Trainers squeak against the steps as you embarrassedly make your way down. You wish the earth could just swallow you whole.

Hobie bites his lip to tuck the laugh inching in his throat. “Sure, love.”

“Don't laugh!” You squeak from the sidewalk as you stare up at him.

“‘m not!” A chuckle escapes.

“You are!” You point accusingly at him.

“‘m just chuffed, alright?” Hobie goes down the stairs to meet with a very flustered you. He tugs you against him by your pinky and lets you hide your face on his chest. You groan, the deep rumble felt through his entire being. His palm rests in between your shoulder blades, thumb brushing along your nape. “If I only knew—”

As quick as lightning, you cup his mouth. “Not a word.”

He mumbles, words quieted by your hand while his eyes smile.

“I didn't think that you were about to…you know.” You lie through your teeth, and he narrows his eyes suspiciously, letting his expression convey his words. Huffing, your hand falls. “Don’t say anything, please?” You're embarrassed enough as it is.

With a smile, he moves down and places a kiss on your cheek. Lips lingering on your skin. It almost had you keeling over on the dirty sidewalk.

“There, enough to tide us both over until the end of the date.” You haven't noticed his hand grasping your own, as his index traces the shell of your ear and plays with your dangling earring.

“You're excruciatingly insufferable.” You say with the fondest of tones. Arms looped around his neck while his hands fall down towards your hips.

“You have that effect on me,” with another kiss to your cheek, one that's closer to the corner of your lips, he then takes your hand, pecking the back of your hand and then holding it and placing it inside the pocket of his jacket. You feel how shaky he is against your touch, and the clamminess of his palm. “C’mon, we have places to be.”

Your head casually leans against his shoulder whilst you two walk. Letting the street lights guide you both towards where he parked his motorcycle.

“I was thinking of making use of the vegetables you gave me and make you dinner someday? Possibly? Maybe?” You say with trepidation as you two cross the street.

“That sounds great, love.” He holds onto you protectively, head swiveling to make sure there's no oncoming traffic heading your way. Now safely back on the sidewalk, he leads you towards the familiar bike. “Your flowers might have bloomed by then too.”

Hobie lets you go to grab a spare helmet for you. The same one he always reserves just for you whenever he gives you a ride home.

“Moussaka for the eggplant, some pasta with the tomatoes.” You excitedly say while he gingerly puts on the helmet on your head just like always. And he even makes sure he doesn't ruin your hair. He listens intently at your yapping with a soft smile. “I have no idea what to do with the onions though, maybe french onion soup? Would that even pair well with the others?”

Hobie pats the top of the helmet, wiggling your head with it. “As long as you let me help you with the cookin’”

“You want to help me?” Your eyes shine brightly under the streetlamp.

“‘Course, love.” Without another word, he kneels down before you and you swear your heart stops as your eyes widen. “That could be our second date.”

Before you could embarrass yourself more with another assumption. Hobie ties your loose shoelaces for you. He makes sure that he secures it well with a tug and even moves to the other shoe to double knot its shoelaces.

He gives your shoe a good pat before you give him a hand to help him up. His eyes glow as he looks up at you with reverence.

You have no idea how you'll manage throughout the rest of the date without melting into a puddle.