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#and Hob would totally be clueless
lostelfwriting · 8 months
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Hob: "So, uh, I met one of yours today." Dream: "One of mine?" *frowns* Hob: "Well, I guess three of yours?" Dream: "Three of my siblings?!" *confusion intensifies* Hob: "No, I don't think they were your siblings… Like, your grandma, your ma, and your younger sister? Three ladies; gave me a quest." Dream: *faints* Hob: "Not family, then." Hob: "..." Hob: "Three evil exes?"
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heavqn · 4 months
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Coriolanus as the peacekeeper, being completely mentally unbalanced, possessive and controlling, while he fucks the reader who is totally naive and can't refuse since Coriolanus is basically keeping her alive and feeding her, it all happens in the cabin. and they are almost discovered by her friend Lucy Gray.
It can include size difference perversion, Coriolanus has a hyper fixation with how shy and naive the reader can be, manipulation, doubtful consent.
Can you add any plot? I'm not a fan of angst though. If you take it, I THANK YOU.
i loved this request!! i kind of went totally overboard and i don't think i stuck to your request quite well but i hope you still enjoy it 😭
cw; fingering, sort of controling? coriolanus, allusion to piv but there isn't any. usage of yn like three times. i think that's all. not my finest writing, apologies </33
Being in District 12 was no party. It was as miserable as life got, until she met Lucy Gray of course. Lucy Gray had taken her under her wing, no doubt becoming like a sister to her. She taught [ y/n ] her favorite songs, her favorite stories and even let her have some of her pretty dresses.
She was basically part of the covey though she had known her for such a short amount of time. When Lucy Gray was reaped, she felt like she was too. A part of her went into that arena with Lucy Gray and she was frightened everyday until she came back unscathed. 
With Lucy Gray’s infamous return to the District came plenty of singing and dancing back in the Hob. It wasn’t until Lucy Gray was a bit way into her song when she noticed a familiar pale, blonde-haired boy watching her. Though the realization of who he was had been cut short by Billy Taupe and his drunken-state, she was both shocked and excited to know he was there.
The next day, she saw him yet again. Maude Ivory had made way to them though and she had to leave. But it didn’t stop her from inviting him to the lake, promising him only the covey knew of its existence.
On the way to the lake, Coriolanus had made his acquaintance with a few others from the covey. One in particular stuck in his mind though; [ y/n ]. She had a quiet tone and was a bit clueless to jokes that others made. He noticed how she stayed close to Lucy Gray, whispering to her and then looking at him.
And if the shyness and naivety hadn’t got him, seeing her come up from under the water definitely did. Her hair clung to her back and the make-shift bikini she wore did little to cover her boobs as he saw her nipples poking from under the fabric. 
He was fascinated by her. She was dumb, to say the least. Usually such things would turn him off and make him go the other way, but he reveled in the way she clung to his every word once the two had become close. 
They often spent time together at the lake; his idea. This particular day, he had convinced her to go skinny-dipping. “What if someone sees us?” She had questioned, voice quiet as if anybody was around to hear her. Only the covey and him knew about the lake; she knew this, he knew this. The possibility of anyone coming out this late wasn’t likely.
Though he had to admit that the thought did cross his mind as well. So he prompted her with another idea, “We could go to the cabin instead.” His intentions would’ve been clear as day to anybody else, but she was entirely lost. “What are we gonna do in there? It’s boring.” She pouted. 
Most nights at the lake were spent listening to him talking as you nodded along, pretending to understand what he spoke of. So when you made your way inside the cabin and got comfortable on the rickety bed, Coriolanus started to speak about his home. 
“I can’t even imagine what the Capitol is like.” She told him in response to his question of if she’d come home with him. “It’s amazing. Organized, powerful. Nothing like the districts. I think you’d fit right in.” His words had her shaking her head.
“I couldn’t leave twelve. My family is here; Lucy Gray is here.” He rolled his eyes. “You’d be with me. I’d buy you the finest things the Capitol has to offer.” The thought of leaving the covey left a bad taste in her mouth, but the promise of pretty things had her looking up at him with curiosity.
“What kind of things?” She questioned. He smiled, knowing he had piqued her interest. It was too easy sometimes. “Clothes, jewelry, makeup. Anything you can dream of.” His hand had made its way to her arm, caressing it as he watched the way her eyes lit up from his words. “Even flowers?” He let out a soft laugh, “Even flowers.” 
She fell into him, back meeting his chest as his arms wrapped around her waist. “You know what else the Capitol has?” His fingers went under your shirt, dragging across the skin of her abdomen. She felt that tingling sensation she often got when she was with him. 
While they talked a lot when together, she’d also had sex with Coriolanus a lot. It wasn’t a hard thing to convince her into. Her first time was in the lake; it wasn’t comfortable or convenient, but he was a desperate man. She had just talked about how she was a virgin and he was immediately interested in taking that title away from her. So it was no surprise when the next time they met up, he had her under him once again and every time after that.
He told her that she owed it to him. He was protecting her; would she rather it be him or some pervert from the district? He knew what he was doing and he gave it how she liked it. He guaranteed that none of these boys could even dream of doing it like him and she agreed. He was unfairly good at it and knew what had her cumming in no time so who was she to deny it?
She was dragged out of her thoughts as his hand went further under her top, moving to grasp her boobs. She let out a shaky sigh at the feeling, listening to him speak. “I asked you a question.” He reminded her; his voice deep and firm in her ear as he his hands continued venturing her body.
“What else?” She responded, not necessarily caring for anything else at this moment besides being held close to him. “Lingerie. You know what that is?” He questioned her, and the way her face screwed up let on that she didn’t have a clue as to what he had said. “I don’t know what that is.” She admitted softly, feeling embarrassed he had once again caught her in a stump.
“It’s a type of clothing women wear. Nice and lacey; Bet you’d look real good in it.” He spoke to her in that same deep voice he always did, but it felt heavier this time. He was building her up just so he could break her. “What do you think?” He shifted the conversation back to her, knowing she’d get riled up.
“I think–I think it’d be nice to try it on. Is it like a dress?” She asked curiously, not quite envisioning what this lingerie was that he spoke of. He laughed at her question, taking his time to trail his hands down the length of her skirt. “No, no. It’s like an undergarment; Ladies wear it for men.” He tried to explain, feeling her body melt into him as his fingers went to push her skirt up, giving him access to the place he wanted.
Her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, again. “So it’s like fancy underwear?” Hearing the word underwear only brought more of her innocence to his attention. “Exactly. Now you’re getting it.” He praised, fingers trailing on the inside of her thighs, inching closer and closer to where she needed him.
“What makes it different from regular underwear?” She was curious now. Ladies wear it for men? Ladies always wear underwear, she thought. He smiled at how interested she was in this topic, but it was clear she was struggling with her words in the way her breath hitched and how she melted impossibly closer to him, when he finally got to the cotton of her panties.
“Well, you don’t wear it everyday. It’s for special occasions; For times between a man and his woman.” He told her, finger playing with the hem of her panties, teasingly snapping it back and into her skin. “Like–Like us, Coryo?” Her voice was but a whisper when she shyly asked the question.
He reveled in the way his pants tightened at how innocent and naive she was. It made it impossible to hold back the way he smiled into her neck, placing open mouthed kisses over her skin. “Just like us, bunny.” He whispered in her ear, finger finally slipping under her panties and going to feel how wet she was.
“Got you all hot and bothered just from a simple conversation. We haven’t even kissed and you’re already soaked.” He teased her, fingers coming out from her panties to show her just how wet she was. “‘m sorry.” She squeaked out, feeling embarrassed at his words and seeing his fingers covered in her juices did nothing to help that feeling.
He swore he could’ve cum right then and there. The way her body tensed up at his words, and the way she became beat red when she saw his fingers; he was ruined. He wanted nothing more than to be inside her, watching as she squirmed to take him; she would be so thankful for it, a mix of “please” and “thank you” ‘s no doubt on her lips with every thrust.
She was obedient; sometimes too obedient. He just craved one time when she would slip up, so he could punish her. But he knew she never would. She listened to his every word, and she’d be damned if she upset her Coryo.
He squeezed her hips, telling her she had nothing to apologize for. “It’s a natural thing. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He told her, the words like honey as they slipped out of his mouth. “Just don’t be getting this way for anyone else. Promise?” He all but commanded her, quickly discarding her panties before placing her right back in front of him; back to chest. “I promise, Coryo. Only you.” She was quick to agree with him; it’s all she’s good for. Simply a parrot of his words, aiming only to agree and copy everything he said. 
He didn’t give her anything else but the feeling of his fingers rubbing her clit as a response. The lack of warning had her surprised at the touch, shocked for a second. But he used his other hand to hold her back against him, keeping her still and pliant. “Don’t move, bunny.” He scolded her, continuing his assault on her delicate bud. 
It was hard to not move, but she persevered. Keeping her composure against him as she let moans and whimpers slip through her lips. “Coryo,” She called out his name, looking up at him with her soft eyes, silently begging him for more. 
“Need something?” He questioned, a smirk evident on his lips from how still so she was yet her mouth moved so much. He knew what she wanted, he just wanted to hear it from her. She spoke softly, the words not quite hitting his ears, but he heard her. Though he chose to tease her once again. “What was that, bunny? Gonna have to speak up.” His fingers ghosted over her entrance, feeling the way her legs so easily fell wider, giving him more room. 
“Need your fingers. Inside me, please.” She pleaded again, a little bit louder than before but no doubt quiet compared to the sound of her heavy breathing. “Why didn’t you just ask?” He smiled sickly at her, leaning down to kiss her as one of his fingers slipped inside her.
The moan she let out had his tongue easily slipping into her mouth, mixing their saliva together as their tongues glided over one another. He made quick work of putting another finger in her, curling them as they went in and out of her. The squelching sound of it all made her cringe on the inside, but the pleasure he was giving her was more interesting to act on. It was all too much; she broke away from the kiss, forehead still against his.
“Thank you, thank you.” She fed him her appreciation, knowing it was exactly what he wanted. She didn’t mind giving it to him either. She was thankful he chose her, thankful she was the one who had his fingers inside her. “Such good manners, bunny.” He responded, feeling her hand trail onto his head, grasping at practically nothing as his buzzcut allowed him little hair. 
He put yet another finger in, picking up his pace altogether whilst his other hand moved to rub her clit. The feeling of him on her skin, everywhere, had her on fire. She was going to burst into flames. She almost did–Until a sudden rapping was heard at the door.
“[ y/n ]? Are you in there?” The voice called for her, now recognizable as Lucy Gray’s. She stayed silent, not wanting to rat herself out, but when Coriolanus whispered into her ear, telling her to respond, she had no choice but to.
His fingers didn’t let up, and now he was kissing at her neck, interested in what she was going to do. He didn’t quite care about being caught; she was the one naked with his fingers deep inside her. “Yes, I’m–I’m in here!” She called back, unsure of what else to say?
“You okay honey? You sound awfully out of breath.” Lucy Gray voiced her concern, worry laced in her words as she moved to turn the door knob. “Yes! Yes, I’m okay. Please don’t come in.” She yelled back shakily; she was getting closer to the edge and if Lucy Gray came in, then it would all go away.
“Are you sure?” She questioned, wanting a final answer before she left the girl alone. “I’m s-sure, Lucy Gray. Nothing to worry ab-about.” She tried to assure her, hoping her words did what she wanted. It was getting hard to breathe with how quick and tentative Corriolanus’ touches were, nonetheless talk.
“Okay. I’ll leave you alone now.” Lucy Gray spoke to her. Whether Lucy Gray was still standing at that door or not, she couldn’t keep quiet now. His fingers curled right where she wanted, and his other hand was not letting up its assault on her clit.
“Coryo, Coryo.” His name fell out of her lips easily, arching into him, legs growing shaky at the feeling she was having. “Talking to your friend like that as if my fingers aren’t inside you right now. Such a dirty little girl.” He chastised her, but his words held no real malice.
It wasn’t long before she met her release, cumming on his fingers. Even then he didn’t stop, continuing to drag out her high. “‘nough. Can’t take more, Coryo.” She told him, shakily pushing his hands away from her. He all but laughed, doing as she asked.
“Can’t even take me inside you, bunny?” His voice was teasing. But the second she heard those words, she was up at his disposal. Ready for anything he gave her.
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gabessquishytum · 5 months
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Dream's family is convinced that Hob is a gold digger; after all he's just a bartender/teacher/quirky small business owner, he must be with Dream for the money -- no one ever chooses Dream for his personality. Besides, Hob claims he didn't know who Dream was when he met him, the whole family is famous, how could he not.
I read this and got the idea of Hob being like. Totally clueless about certain things? His friends joke that he was raised as a medieval peasant. Maybe he was in a kind of commune situation or his parents were just weird, but every so often he'll be like,, "What's a DVD player?" And he absolutely means it. He still doesn't really use the Internet or social media, and while he's a very good bartender he does sometimes just completely miss pop culture references.
("You don't know who Take That are?! Where were you in the 90s?" "Oh, funny story, I actually had a job sheering sheep in the middle of nowhere and we didn't really have a radio.")
Which is why he doesn't know who any of the Endless family members are. But it's not just that! Maybe Dream is an actor or a model, but Hob has just,,,, never heard of any of his work. If he's modelled for Versace? Hob is saying "who?" with this cute frown between his eyebrows. After they actually meet, Hob makes a point of researching stuff about Dream to get to know him better and to be able to hold a conversation with him. He actually gets to be an expert on Dream’s career! And he loves telling people facts about how cool and successful his boyfriend is.
Dream LOVES that Hob is like this. Partly because Dream is quite similar - knows a lot about his special interests, knows nothing about basic life skills. They understand each other. But it is kind of incredible to know that Hob really did pick him because of who he is as a person. He wouldn't even care if Hob takes all his money at this point. Lets be real, Hob would probably just spend it on some very strange antique furniture for the bar. But he's too busy being weird with his boyfriend to care about money anyway <3
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robinine-blog · 7 years
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The Past is a Different Country
Be warned, I think I spot an emotional rollercoaster ahead
Chapter 1: The Paparazzi Attack
Dewey made his glaceless way downstairs, bouncing off a wall as he followed the smells and sounds of breakfast.
He entered the dinning room and was immediately  sure Louie was up to something.
If bumping into a wall hadn’t woken him up, he was now.
“Good Morning” he sang out cheerfully. Scrooge smiled at him and gave him a nod, uncle Donald waved but didn’t look up, Huey’s and Webby’s greetings was just as cheerful and Louie grinned.
Not his usual smirk, but a grin. There was an air of affected innocence surrounding him and as Dewey studied his brother he became sure Louie feeling rather pleased with himself.
Louie was definitely up to something.
Dewey gave Huey a questioning look, who gave him a clueless smile, then Donald, who was half heartedly making notes and referring to his phone, Webby who was talking at Huey, then finally to Scrooge, who seemed to already be halfway through the Duckburg Times.
Alright. No one else had noticed Louie was up to something. Time to distract.
Dewey served himself some porridge, upending the pot of honey, sneaking glances at his Uncles. Huey gave him a look, his eyes rolling upwards, before pushing a large glass of milk towards Dewey. Webby gave him an amused look, and she paused in her tale, perhaps sensing the mood in the room had shifted.
Dewey grinned at them he set the now empty honey pot down, and glanced at Louie. Louie considered him, and pushed the peanut butter his way.
“Dewey. Fruit.” Uncle Donald directed, waving his pen towards the bowl of fruit.
“Peanut butter counts.” Dewey waved his spoon.
“Peanut butter? On porridge?” Uncle Scrooge pulled a face, putting aside his newspaper “Really lad?”
“It’s good.” Dewey through a sticky mouthful.
“It’s disguising.” Webby exclaimed.
“What do you like Uncle Scrooge?” Huey piped up.
“Salt. Or a little cheese.” Uncle Scrooge declared.
“Eww!” Dewey pulled a face, as Louie dropped out of sight.
“Sweets are all well and good, in their place” Scrooge began a lecture.
“It’s breakfast!” Dewey interrupted. “It’s meant to be sweet!”
“And that will hardly going to carry you through the day lad!” Scrooge rose from his chair.
“Dewey!” Dewey stood on the chair so Scrooge couldn’t loom over him. “My name is DEWEY!” No one else seemed notice the door opening.
Scrooge paused. “Dewey.” He conceded, face pulling tight, “I didnae mean…” He paused again.
“Dewey. Fruit.” Donald said, glaring at Scrooge. “And sit down. Both of you.”
Distraction successful. Dewey grabbed some blueberries and kept his head down, grinning into his porridge.
Louie had better share.
— Louie ducked out of the dinning room, tucking his hands in his pocket, tugging at the plastic envelope hidden there.
He needed somewhere private to hide and well lit enough to read. The mansion had more than enough of the first, but the second was harder, what with most of the unused rooms being shut up.
But Louie has planned ahead, scouted the lay of the land, finding an unused bedroom with a window seat. He settles in behind the curtains certain that no one is going to find him. (Except Webby but she’s wouldn’t be looking for him for a while)
Huey would cut it open, Dewey would tear into the envelope, Louie traces along the seams and pulls it apart where it’s weakest.
His heart is beating a little fast, but his hands are steady as he turns the glossy magazine over. He’s on the front cover.
“What is it like like living with the Richest Duck in the world? An exclusive interview with Louie Duck, nephew of the renowned Scrooge McDuck.”
Louie grins. It’s a good photo. But did Fergus keep his word?
He opens up the magazine, checking the contents. And pales.
‘The mysterious disappearance of Della Duck.’ ‘The most likely heir to the McDuck Fortune’ ‘Donald Duck, respected war hero or lunatic?’
It goes on and on, Louie shakes as he turns the pages, it’s his family, he recognises names and pictures. He doesn’t know these stories. His stomach twists and he wants to throw up.
How much did uncle Donald hide from them? Why do strangers know more about his family than he ever did?
Water drips onto to page as he opens the article on his Mom, the writing is too blurry to read. There’s a picture of his Mom climbing into a small aircraft.
He can’t.
This is bad. This is wrong. He made a mistake. He didn’t know they were going to do this.
He can’t breathe. The room is too dusty.
He wants Uncle Donald.
Huey was totally up for a day entertaining himself. He had plans. Louie had vanished, and Dewey had grabbed Webby for more exploring. There’s pieces of his model aircraft scattered all over his desk and he’s carefully checking he hasn’t lost anything in the move to his new bedroom when something breaks his concentration.
He tilts his head and listens.
Someone’s crying.
Oh. Oh no. His heart sinks. He was really looking forward to working on his model. He hopes Dewey and Webby haven’t gotten into something dangerous. (Again)
He sighs, knowing he’s not going to rest until he finds the source, and drops the pieces he’s holding back into the box.
It’s louder outside his room, and coming from above, so he silently makes his way to the staircase.
He doesn’t have to go far.
Louie’s curled in a ball, arms wrapped around his knees. He’s sobbing and Huey settles down next to him. Louie tries to talk, but nothing is coming out.
Huey rubs his back and waits for Louie to calm down enough to speak.
Instead, a crumpled magazine is shoved at him.
“Mom?” Huey stuttered, his heart clenching, clinging to Louie as he reads the article.
It’s horrible. There’s dozens of digs against Uncle Donald and Scrooge. It’s a full out attack on their family. Huey is shaking.
He growls, and for a moment all he wants to do is tear the horrible magazine to pieces and set them on fire.
“We’re telling Uncle Donald” Huey declares, dragging his brother to his feet and half carrying him down the stairs. It’s a good thing Louie’s his height because he’s barely able to support himself, they’re both shaking so hard.
— Donald thinks he’s having a good day. His CV has gone off to a dozen different job adverts, and he’s already had a response from two, one asking for references and another asking if he’s available for a phone interview.
Uncle Scrooge almost apologised. (He’s getting better at it.) And Mrs Beakley is having a day off, so Donald gets to cook lunch and dinner today.
He’s anticipating the look on his Uncle’s face.
Then he hears it.
“Uncle Donald!” Huey sounds strident, his voice wavering.
The hob goes off. The lid is placed on the sauce pan. He’s pretty confident  he’ll be able to salvage it.
His boys need him.
They look a mess, Louie is pale and clinging to Huey, half hiding behind his brother, his breathing coming in shaky gulps, Huey is shaking, his hands clenching around the lump of glossy paper in his hand.
“What’s wrong? Where’s Dewey?”
“They printed trash about Mom!” Huey wails, shaking the paper, a magazine Donald realises, catching sight of a familiar photo.
There’s a chill seeping into his bones, his hear shutters and everything goes grey and muted. He can barely understand what Huey is saying, and Louie is just repeating I’m sorry again and again.
They hurt his boys.
Scrooge is interrupted from his research by the familiar sound of a McDuck (or in this case a Duck) losing his temper.
“By Dismal Downs, what now?” He utters, deciding to investigate before Donald broke anything and give his nephew a good shaking if need be.
What he sees is unforgivable, the lads look terrified, and he yanks his nephew up. “Look at them” He hisses.
“Uncle Scrooge,  it’s not Donald’s fault.” Huey pipes up, there’s a thunderous expression on the lad’s face, the first warning sign that Huey is on the verge of displaying his own version of the McDuck temper. He holds something out, and Scrooge drops Donald to take it.
Smoothing out the much crumpled paper he immediately sees the problem. “I’ll handle this” Scrooge growls.
“No.” Huey said, folding his arms “First, I want to know what really happened when Mom disappeared. Not the lies they printed”
“Agreed” Dewey said, dropping down from his perch in the rafters, Webby just behind him.
Scrooge glances at Donald. It’s his decision.
“Alright.” Donald slumped, defeat written across every feather. “Alright boys.”
“You didnae need to lad.” Uncle Scrooge accent thickened.
Donald gave him a look. “They deserve to know.”
“I was there too you know.” Scrooge presses, but there’s an undercurrent of uncertainty in his voice.
Donald looks at him, and for once there’s none of the barely hidden resentment in his gaze, only grief deeper than the marine trench and their shared burden of guilt.
The silence between is heavy, and the kids inch closer to each other. Louie’s tears have dried, he’s starring at the floor and leaning on Huey. Huey has a protective arm around Louie, but his eyes are stormy, Dewey’s landed on Louie’s other side just in front of his brothers and is bouncing from foot to foot, and Webby is watching with wide eyes, her hand twisted in Dewey’s tee. They can’t help the undercurrent of excitement and dread rolling off of them.
Until Donald speaks.
“Can you tell it Uncle Scrooge?” Donald’s voice is flat, a little bit angry, but mostly hurt.
Scrooge flinched back from the open disdain.
“I can try.” Scrooge comes back with, the closest he can admit to that he’s as unready to face this memory as Donald. His hands tighten on his cane, recognizing that this could be the start of an old argument, one he’s not sure either of them will walk away unharmed from.
“Alright.” Donald looked away.
“Alright” Scrooge echoes, not sure he’s heard right. “Into the study with you lads, I’ll put the tea on.”
“Webby too.” Dewey says, clutching her arm.
Scrooge nods. “I shalt tell this tale again.”
@donaldtheduckdad and so it begins
Part 2 can be found here:
http://robinine-blog.tumblr.com/post/165160561770/the-past-is-a-different-country
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gabessquishytum · 1 month
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Dream is a magical creature (witch, fairy, genie, ???) that is inadvertently freed by thief!Hob who was just looking for an easy score.
(Hob certainly would have freed an imprisoned Dream had he known that was a thing that needed doing, but 1. While Hob is a nice~ish guy, he is 2. not an occultist, thank you very much!) And no he doesn't want or need a boon.
Dream refuses to have an outstanding debt, so he's taken to following Hob around trying to "help" Hob with his work. When Hob didn’t like that, Dream started to just *pop* up - so much so people began to ask Hob about his hot weird boyfriend.
Absolutely obsessed with this concept tbh, I really like the idea that 1) Hob wouldn't ask for a boon and 2) Dream would just follow him around, interfering and generally bothering him.
At first Dream shows up when Hob is in the middle of trying to steal stuff, which is kind of not helpful because Dream..... is not inconspicuous. At all. And almost gets Hob caught several times. At one point they have to pretend to be lovers who just "accidentally" stumbled into a treasure chamber while looking for a hook-up spot. Hob is pretty sure that's when the rumours started...
It may also be the fact that Dream insists on holding Hob’s hand all the time that they're together, because he's not familiar with the human realm and doesn't want to get lost. Hob totally understands that Dream is anxious! He really doesn't mind at all. But does Dream really need to kiss Hob’s palm every time he arrives and leaves?
Needless to say: Hob’s an idiot. Dream is trying so hard to get laid, please somebody help him. Apparently the idiocy is endearing because Dream is falling more and more in love with this clueless human every day.
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gabessquishytum · 10 months
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Been binge reading all the warprize AU posts rotating slut Hob in my head before I got giggly thinking about them meeting Shaxbeard in this universe.
The king tolerates few and favours fewer, topmost of them all being Hob ofc, and while Dream is a powerful and stern King who rules with an iron fist, his kingdom is prosperous. Schools and a certain level of education is mandatory for all children, and both art and artists thrive within the capitol.
Im thinking about a twist 1589 scene where Dream takes them to watch some kinda play, maybe one of Marlowe's and Hob enjoys himself, sure. The flamboyance and the drama are immensely entertaining and he loves a good story. But what sours the experience was when Dream insists on meeting the screenwriters and actors afterwords (Jessamy explains that Dream has a soft spot for screenwriters and new, passionate actors) and was just. COMPLETELY enamoured by Shakespeare. (Not really, but Dream paid one WHOLE MINUTE of his attention on someone else besides Hob. Even when Hob was trying to call him!) At one point Hob was even SHUSHED. AND NOT EVEN FOR FUN. HE TURNED BACK TO FACE SHAKESPEARE. After a moment of stunned silence Hob's expression grew so angry and thunderous at the new fucking twink upstart the table's cupbearer-who was approaching the table to top up the wine-froze and shuffled hurriedly backwards. He looked so PISSED that for a moment you couldn't tell WHO possessed WHOM.
Hob can't just kill him. The King likes him too much. He never liked all the people Hob's killed before as much as he seemed to like Shakespeare, but that won't stop him from making Shakespeare's life living HELL
I feel like we totally have the same brain!!!! I've been slowly working on the new chapter for my feral!Hob au fic and Shakespeare may or may not be making an appearance...
I'm obsessed with how you've put this tho... Hob getting hushed by Dream one (1) time and being so incredibly upset and offended?? This is amazing. I can see it SO clearly. He's so used to being Dream’s darling little pet and he just can't cope with the idea of sharing the king’s attention with anyone.
Shakespeare is just trying to live his life and write some good plays, and he's not even aware that he's caused trouble in paradise until he catches Hob’s eye and oh my god, if looks could kill Shakespeare would be dead on the floor. He doesn't know what he did to upset the King's favourite pet but he's kind of terrified now. Hob is still the big muscular soldier he once was, and under his silky skimpy clothes there's a VERY large knife strapped to his thigh. Shakespeare felt it when Hob deliberately pushed past him to get away.
Later on Hob is in such a mood, Dream has never seen him be such a brat before. He's utterly clueless as to what's caused his pet's bad behaviour, but he finds himself quite enjoying Hob’s pouts and rude little quips. If nothing else it's a good excuse to take the brat over his knee and spank the truth out of him.
When Hob admits to being jealous, you can bet that Dream has a hearty laugh about it. He can't help finding it hilarious that his beloved little "prisoner" is so possessive over him. Hob gets a direct order not to hurt Shakespeare, but he also gets the assurance that he is Dream’s favourite and nothing is going to change that.
(That doesn't mean he stops glaring at the twinky playwright and leaving him in fear for his life. Hob’s gotta have some fun.)
Also thank you so much for your birthday message! It was so sweet of you <3
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