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gabessquishytum · 6 months

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Hello love! I’ve been having thoughts of Dream and Hob exploring their sexualities in… potentially unhealthy ways. I don’t think I’ll ever write it, so I’m tossing my scattered thoughts your way in the hopes you’ll be inspired, or perhaps someone else will be ;)

I was listening to “One of Your Girls” by Troye Sivan and was smacked in the head with the concept of young Dream going to a club and meeting Hob– who’s a very straight man, for the first time.

Hob is very much Dream’s type: warm and soft, an easy smile, strong yet kind, but something devious in his eyes. Especially with the way he’s been eyeing Dream from across the room. Dream saunters over to him and turns on the charm. He’s openly flirting, lightly touching Hob’s arm, complimenting how handsome he is, all to Hob laughing and blushing and acting almost… shy? Finally Hob, while not outright pushing Dream away, reveals to him that he’s flattered, but not interested in men.

Undeterred, Dream hums casually, taking a long swallow from his drink (making sure Hob watches), and leans fully into his space to speak sweetly in his ear.

“Are you sure?”

And when Hob turns his head to meet Dream’s gaze dead on, they are close enough to feel one another’s breath on their lips. Close enough that Dream can taste Hob’s anxiety mingled with excitement as his lips part and his eyes flick down briefly to Dream’s mouth and back.

Dream’s eyes flutter shut as Hob’s hand cups the side of his face, fingers soft under his jawline, and slowly leans in for a kiss that is so soft, so god damn careful, it nearly makes Dream shake.

Because, underneath his cool and confident facade, Dream is insecure. He’s young and is desperate to be loved. Hob isn’t the first straight man he’s fooled around with. Dream has always told men, and himself, that it was okay. That his body could be a safe space for them to explore their curiosities… even if it did leave him feeling strangely empty afterwards. The thrill of being the reason a straight man was questioning himself wore off pretty fast when they didn’t stay the night, didn’t call him back, or even indulge in a kiss.

But the first thing Hob does is kiss him. Slow, gentle, with his hands holding Dream’s face like he’s something precious and it shatters something in Dream. He almost whimpers as Hob pulls back, thumbs caressing his sharp cheekbones.

It was just a chaste thing, lips only, but Dream instantly wants more.

“Did you like that?” Dream asks, already dying to go back for more.

But Hob pauses, seeming to really consider it.

“I’m not sure. That was my first time kissing a man.”

So from here… we could go two directions:

Hob has his bi-awakening. Dream shows him everything he’s been missing. It’s sweet and they fall in love afterwards.

Or, my personal preference, angst.

Hob continues to be unsure. Dream and him spend more time together, but it’s more as friends. Dream lays off trying to get him into his bed, but it’s still very obvious he’s into him. Like, really obvious (lots of staring, “casual” touches, more experimental kissing that as they indulge in more and more, Hob breaks away with a loud gasp or frustrated sound because he’ll get his hands on Dream and feel his flat chest, the stubble on his face, or Dream’s low growl and shake his head “This isn’t working…”).

And finally Dream kind of breaks down and is like, “I could be a girl for you.” and dresses up in drag. He makes a very convincing woman and it’s almost embarrassing how into it Hob is, finally getting a proper erection the moment Dream walks into the room, high heels, makeup, wig, tucked and wearing fake breasts. He sucks Hob off before blindfolding him while Dream crawls up his lap and impales himself on Hob’s cock.

It gets messy from there. Dream developing feelings and Hob feeling even more confused about his sexuality than before. It’s like Dream, his friend, is a completely different person than the Dream that presents himself as feminine.

Maybe Hob grew up conservative and he’s still fighting back old repressed morals/values. Maybe he has internalized homophobia.

As you can see, my mind is everywhere. Not sure where to take it, and I don’t think I have the confidence to properly tackle this brainworm. So. here ya go *upends box all over the place and runs away*

First of all hello my love!! So great to see you here!!! And second of all, one of your girls is such a banger. I just have share my favourite line with you all: You should insure that waist / With the highest policy you can get

Iconic.

Anyway, this ask hurt my feelings so much but I LOVE IT. Repressed queer Hob is so interesting to me because it feels quite close to canon? As a character Hob is quite conservative/goes with the times. I think he's right about himself, he does have to make a big effort to change! Which is not a bad thing! But can be painful, I guess.

It definitely makes everything more complicated because Dream seems to be two different people. He's still Hob’s friend, his buddy, someone he trusts and respects. But he's also... someone else. A pretty thing in drag who knows exactly how Hob likes to be sucked off and who Hob fantasies about when he jerks off. It's not really Dream he's thinking of, but it kind of is? Those are Dream’s thighs wrapped around his waist, those are Dream’s lips, his tongue, his pert little arse.

Hob feels like a horrible person and like he should stop the whole thing, but every time he tries, Dream pouts his pink glossy lips and slides his freshly shaved thigh between Hob’s legs to rub against his cock. And Hob thinks well, one more time won't hurt. And the cycle continues.

Dream feels utterly destroyed by the fact that he just isn't enough for Hob. Because Hob is so nice to him! He never laughs at Dream, he's a proper friend to him, and a good lover too. It would be such a perfect relationship. But Hob never gets hard when they're curled up on the couch together in the daytime. They still try kissing sometimes, but Hob sometimes pulls away with his look on his face that just cuts Dream to his core.

So he keeps dressing up. Being Hob’s pretty little girl isn’t so bad. Hob is worth it. He's nothing like the other straight men who've tossed Dream away after one night of curiosity. And he really, genuinely isn't! He loves Dream, its just that the love is weighed down by all the stuff inside Hob’s head that tells him that he can't. He can't be gay. Not even for Dream. He can't open that door because he's fucking terrified of what's behind it.

I'm a sucker for an eventual resolution so I propose this: Hob finally does the right thing and breaks off the pseudo-relationship with Dream. He requests time apart and Dream is devastated, but resigned. Hob will move on and find himself a proper woman, he supposes. But Hob does not! He goes to therapy!

It's nearly a year until Hob shows up at Dream’s place. He apologies for everything that happened before - he was old enough to know better. Being fucked up by other people isn't an excuse to do fucked up shit. And he would like a chance to try again with Dream, but he doesn't expect or feel entitled to anything. It's not up to Dream to fix him.

Dream tries to take time to think it over, but the answer was always going to be yes. He's done some growing up in the last year, and he knows what he deserves: a loving, dedicated and respectful partner. He knows that Hob can be all of that. No more pretending and hiding. They're going to make it work.

#valeriianz #the sandman #dreamling #nsft #cw internalized homophobia

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issylra · 1 year

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RE: this fucking gifset (beth you're trying to murder us all)

“You’re bleeding.”

Dream turns his head away from Hob. Away from his concerned eyes, the deep and unsettling concern reflected in them. He flinches as Hob’s fingers lightly touch his jaw, hesitation screaming through every movement, but Dream allows his face to be turned forward again. Lets Hob’s thumb dig into his chin to maneuver his face to the left, exposing the large gash on his forehead.

“Christ, Dream. Do I want to know?”

“I don’t need commentary,” Dream murmurs. The blood loss is affecting him more than he’d care to admit; he can hear how his words slur together. “Just discretion.”

Hob sighs and drops his hand. Dream exhales a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding as Hob steps aside.

Dream stalks forward. He hears the door shut behind them and finally collapses in Hob’s chair at his desk, sighing deeply and relaxing enough to let his eyelids fall.

“I don’t exactly have a first aid kit in here,” Hob says, stepping up to the desk. “You really thought coming to me, here, was the best option for this?”

Dream opens his eyes slowly, finding Hob standing above him, wringing his hands out in front of him. It’s almost funny, seeing Hob fret over Dream, despite the frustration in his tone. The worry exuded out of every pore in his body, down to the way he pulls a hand through his hair, longer now than Dream remembers.

“I had nowhere else to go.”

AHHHHHHH. You wrote something so fast. I love you, and this. The Vibes™️. And since the gif I left out weirdly goes with the fic:

#answered #valeriianz #dreamling #dream x hob #those patented valeriianz vibes #fic

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magnusbae · 1 year

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Tagged by @cuubism , previously known as single line game, now is: slap an entire paragraph in game. I swear it was a paragraph before I broke it down.

▾ ▾ ▾

He could create a dream to be her.

He could shape it out of sand, pour in every fragment of her memory, channel all that still lives of her within him.

He could create the perfect image of her being.

It would live and breathe... however.. — it wouldn't have her soul.

For all his power, he cannot reproduce those, he cannot create a human soul.

He can reshape its form in the dreaming, can manipulate and play and bend, yet he cannot create it, cannot make it out of sand.

He cannot remake Jessamy.

Wouldn't dare dishonor her in trying.

I'll just tag you back again so you post one more from a different au @cuubism, also @valeriianz , @hotcocoabuns , @notallsandmen

As always do it if you wish, it's all for fun 💕 if you do it though, please make in a new post 💖

#Should have probably warned for emotional damage... Haha...#Sleep deprived rewrite of something I had in my drafts #Cuubism #valeriianz #hotcocoabuns #notallsandmen #tag meme #Jessamy #Jessamy Sandman #buns.w #buns.all

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fulcrvm · 1 year

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hi, hello, how are you??

List five things that make you happy, then put this in the ask box of the last ten people who reblogged something from you. Spread the positivity!🍄🌵

aaa hello!! hi there!! the timing of this ask was ridiculously perfect, i am definitely in need of remembering things to be positive about :') hmm..

is it cheating to say my friends?? my friends!! i love them!!

music music music, so many songs to hear for the first time with so much history and variation and made with so much love and care

drawing, writing, making something/anything/everything i can look back on later to be proud of, no matter how big or small despite how long it takes me to get done

eating kueh!! (the onde onde and dadar that a lady in my old neighborhood used make specifically!!)

getting to nap in direct sunlight hehe

:) !!

#today has been possibly the worst day in a series of bad weeks so. this was a good reminder genuinely thank you :')#and a really nice surprise to see you in the inbox!!#i reread scratch a little itch just today!! and also i may have bought tickets to the cure bc of bitb... my first concert ever soon!!#valeriianz #rex replies

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rooftopwreck · 1 year

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helloooo! just letting you know, i saw your tags on your recent reblog from @designtheendless:

#there was one time i got off stage after a performance and from blinding stage lights to pitch black backstage i was totally blind#i walked face first into some guy's chest#this could happen to them

and i thought... you're right, that could happen to them. Dream has been used to like, 20 minute sets as an opener, i bet walking off stage after staring into lights for an hour would make him see spots and he'd totally just walk right into Hob. i'm making this happen lol thanks for the inspiration!

omg glad this resonated somehow can't wait to see you work your magic!

#btw ur NYE fic lives in my mind rent free #asks #valeriianz

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questing-wulfstan · 1 year

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"canon hitchiker Dream" 👀

THANK YOU FOR ASKING HONEY 🥰💛

One thing to know about me is that, I personally find much more fun and interesting to set my fanfictions within the canon universe and get to grips with its rules, rather than coming up with AUs, when it comes to fictional works.

So when I laid eyes upon The Dreamling Hitchhiker AU, I for some reason thought, "wait but this would work in canon !!" (the premise of it). Because there's this really neat page in the comics that was omitted in the show, where Dream travels through dreams to get to Mayhew and his ruby. So I thought, what if Dream escapes through Alex's dreams after getting his revenge on him, but he doesn't have any power left, and he's left to seek to hitch a dreamer's ride ? The first dreamer to pick him up is no other than Hob Gadling, and I think I'll set this in 1989 like in the comics, except Dream escapes after the 7th of June, so Hob didn't have time to process and forgive Dream standing him up yet, and Dream is extremely weak and vulnerable and did not expect nor prepare to meet Hob again. And Dream necessarily has to let him know about his destination ... :D

#the sandman #netflix the sandman #dreamling #hobmurphy #écrimûre #... tumblr for some reason will not let me link Valeriianz' post :') But well #everyone has seen it and I don't need to right ? 🙏#edit : alright I could add it eventually~

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wordsinhaled · 1 year

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ok, actually coffeeshop AU has consumed me because just imagine

morpheus pining for hob, in his kitchen at midnight in his black t-shirt and skinny jeans and bare feet, blasting "the lovecats" and "just like heaven" and making fancy truffles... his sister letting herself into morpheus' flat in the middle of the day and it smells like coffee and kahlua; she comes into the kitchen to see morpheus assembling a tiramisu, humming "i melt with you"...

("who's got you singing, then?"

"no one, my sister.")

morpheus takes his next wedding cake contract without complaint, when normally they make him maudlin because he hasn't been in love for so long, and that's when people really know something is up with him

hob pining for his nameless customer, making his own homemade flavored simple syrups, roping any friend who comes over to his place into trying a new coffee drink, all, "what does it feel like to you, when you drink this?"

("what do you mean, man?" "in your heart. what does it make you feel?" "caffeinated."

"ugh—no—i mean, yes, obviously, but... do you feel cared about?"

"...i suppose? you could just give him your number, you know." "god, are you serious? he'd toss it in the bin straight away. he barely even looks at me." "and you think your extra-special flat white or your rosemary latte or whatever is going to change that?" "i can hope! and it was lavender. though he might think a rosemary one is nice, thanks for the idea—")

just... the two of them both losing it over each other and yet completely convinced that's not the case

@levionok @valeriianz

#the sandman #dreamling

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rexwrendraws · 9 months

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Sandcastles: Year One, A Sandman Fan-Fic Anthology ⏳

To celebrate The Sandman's one year anniversary this past weekend (how has it been a year already!?), I started a self-indulgent project and decided I wanted to take a crack at typesetting for the very first time.

So, I'm very proud to present: Sandcastles, an 180-page digital anthology that celebrates some of my favorite Sandman fics from the past year! Sandcastle collects shorter fics ranging from gen to mature, and is print-ready and available to be downloaded for free. Through this anthology, I hope others can get the same joy from these fics the same way I did over the past year (think of it as a glorified fic rec list)! (And, if anyone's interested, the print-ready files are available for download as well, if anyone wanted to print their own copy of Sandcastles!)

✨ Download Sandcastles here!

Thank you to all the authors for giving me permission to include their work in this anthology! This is my love letter to all of your work! Please check them out and leave a kind word or two!

The fics included in Sandcastles, in order of the Table of Contents, are the following:

Companions - Picture_Yourself (@anthrossandman)

Fridays - hardly_an_escape (@hardly-an-escape)

Warning Sign - issylra (@issylra)

Snacktime - fishydwarrows (@fishfingersandscarves)

Stray - softestpunk (@softest-punk)

Aulon Raid - moorishflower (@moorishflower)

Unbidden Miracles - mostlybuddingthoughts (@mostlybuddingthoughts)

Available - softestpunk (@softest-punk)

Points of View - cuubism (@cuubism)

Fern-Fevered - notallsandmen (notallmaenads) (@notallsandmen)

The Last - secondjulia (@secondjulia)

Scratch a Little Itch - sanyumi (@valeriianz)

Simple Dreams of Comfort - softestpunk (@softest-punk)

The Apocalypse is Nigh! - cuubism (@cuubism)

To Those Who Dare Wonder - Astrophel_Hireath (@mentallyinvernation)

The Perils of Inebriation - Lilibet (@the-slow-arrow)

Touch - softestpunk (@softest-punk)

Passing the Time - Anonymous

I'm Stuck on You (I'm Mighty Glad You Stayed) - hardly_an_escape (@hardly-an-escape)

Hob Gadling vs. The British Museum (Unknown Artist, c. 2022, Oil on Canvas) - TheAllKnowingOwl (@theallknowingowl)

This also counts as my submission for Day 1 of @mr-sadman 's Sandmanniversary 2023 prompts (Collection) :)

_ _ _ _ _ (Post & files updated — 29.08.2023)

#Sandmanniversary #Sandmanniversary2023 #the sandman #dreamling #dc #typesetting #fic rec #rex typesetting #sandcastles anthology #not my fic #no E rated fics bc i keep picturing my roommate stumbling on it if i print it lmao those are between me and my ao3 bookmarks #i also cannot stress enough that this was my first time typesetting anything ever so if there are little formatting or spelling errors --#-- im sorry!! but thank you for letting me experiment with your fics!#please dm me if any links on this post stops working/needs to be fixed

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virgo-dream · 1 year

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Does anything get past the well trained eyes of stan accounts? The yellow sweater controversy took over Reddit, Twitter and Instagram. Locals report it is coming to a Facebook page near you as well. The debate is mostly positive, but will Dream and Hob allow it to go on?

Part 2 of the yellow sweater controversy! ✨

Inspired by @valeriianz’s amazing fic Bolt in the Blue ⚡️💙

#my edits #valeriianz #Dreamling #bolt in the blue #dream of the endless #hob gadling #this one is full of Easter eggs!!!!!

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tj-dragonblade · 2 months

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[FLUFFBRUARY FIC] A Sweet Romance Beginning In a Queue

Rated: T Word Count: 4551 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, human AU, rain, writer!Dream, professor!Hob, song-based meet-cute, clumsy metaphors

Notes: This is springboarding entirely from Bus Stop by The Hollies; shoutout to @valeriianz for suggesting this song would make a great Dreamling fic many many months ago. I thought Fluffbruary Day 3 would be a good opportunity to bang it out real quick but uh. It didn't want to flow, so I've just been rolling additional days into it all month. Also went a wee bit off-script from the song but. I'm pleased enough with what it's turned out to be. Prompts listed at the end.

Summary: Bus stop, wet day, he's there, I say, 'Please share my umbrella'

On AO3

It's the first day of the new term and the sky is overcast, threatening rain as Hob steps off the bus at his connecting stop. He's got his umbrella and his overcoat and his bag is water-resistant; his stop on the other end is very near the college and he's feeling well-prepared should the weather follow through on its threat.

Which of course it does, not half a minute later, and Hob deploys his umbrella with a sigh. There are a handful of other people waiting at the stop who do the same.

And one who does not.

He's pale and pretty, and tall, and dark—dark trousers, dark peacoat, dark hair, which is well on its way to getting thoroughly soaked as the skies open up in earnest. He appears to be lacking an umbrella entirely. Hob, who these days makes conscious effort to be a Good Samaritan whenever he can, and who also maybe thinks that attractively-pale men dressed in black who forget their umbrellas are worth at least a 'hello', moves quickly.

"Share my umbrella? Please." He's holding it over the guy as he speaks, but they'll have to squish up a bit to get maximum benefit for either of them.

"…Thank you," the guy says, shuffling closer; their shoulders touch. He is stiff, awkward, and yeah okay Hob can understand; courtesy in rainy weather or not, they're still complete strangers.

"Hell of a day to forget your umbrella, yeah?" Hob rolls his shoulders and shifts, putting himself more or less back-to-back with the guy so they fit better.

"Quite," comes the answer. His voice is low and rumbly, pleasantly dark without being bass-deep; it's oddly appealing.

Hob shrugs. "We've all been there. And hey, I'm glad to share."

"Again. Thank you." There's a touch more warmth this time, and Hob smiles to himself.

They pass a moment in silence, save for the drumming of rain against the umbrella and the splashing of cars in the street, and then the bus is pulling up to the stop. The guy steps toward it, first in line, and Hob follows with the umbrella, then lets the other three people board ahead of him.

Which means, once he's boarded and tapped in, the only open seat is serendipitously next to his slightly-soggy goth stranger. Who makes eye contact and holds it as Hob approaches, scoots just that little bit closer to the window to make clear he doesn't mind Hob taking the seat beside him, and Hob is quietly thrilled at the subtle welcome.

"Are you a conversationalist, or a ride-in-silence enthusiast?" he asks, as the bus lurches into motion.

"Ordinarily, the latter," the guy admits, glancing briefly at Hob. "But, as I stormed out with neither book nor earbuds, and I find myself with a chivalrous seat partner, perhaps I could be persuaded to the former just this once."

"Very kind, thank you," Hob says, with a smile. "'Stormed out' doesn't sound promising; feel like unburdening to a friendly ear? I'd be happy to listen, if so. Or find something else entirely to talk about if not."

His stranger turns to the window, watching the rivulets of rain trailing over the glass; there is a brief lull before he speaks. "I find myself creatively blocked, and my sister's attempts to be helpful. Were not." He sighs. "I left the house to clear my head, before saying anything truly unkind."

"Smart," Hob agrees. He could listen to this guy talk all day, his rumbly words and his dark-velvety voice.

"'Smart' would have been making certain to grab more than just my phone and wallet." There's a pretty little scowl accompanying the words, that rosy mouth plumped out in the faintest pout visible in his reflection in the window, and Hob is smitten.

"That may be, but then I'd hardly have had reason to say hello, and we'd both be sitting here reading our books politely ignoring one another. Silver lining?"

"Perhaps," the guy says, but it sounds agreeable enough. Hob likes to think he's a decent judge of unspoken communication and that he could tell if he was being a bother. Currently his stranger is glancing over Hob's bag and his attire with a curious and observant eye, posture reserved but not closed off, and Hob figures he's doing alright.

"Where are you headed, then—work?" the guy asks.

"Yeah, I teach at the college, medieval history, now and then a class in medieval lit too."

The guy's attention goes from merely polite to genuinely interested. "Oh?"

"Yep!" Hob's heart rate bumps up a notch at the light in those (gorgeous) blue eyes; the sudden intensity of this stranger's focus is heady.

He's turned in his seat, angled to somewhat face Hob, gaze bright, expression open. "I imagine that is a difficult sell to many students."

"Oh my friend, you have no idea!" Delighted with his good fortune, Hob launches into tales of his most recalcitrant classes and the victories he's won in inciting and maintaining student interest. He's good at talking, and enjoys doing it, and this pretty stranger is paying genuine attention to him, and so Hob prattles on enthusiastically as the bus trundles steadily through the rain.

~ "This is me," Hob says, as the bus pulls up to the college stop. "It was delightful chatting with you, and I hope your day improves from here!"

"It already has, thank you."

The tiny smile that the stranger offers in parting buoys Hob's spirits all the way to his office.

~ Tuesday is miserably wet again and Hob checks for his stranger at the bus stop, hopeful (yes alright, perhaps he's got a bit of a crush), but there's no sign of him. It's earlier than it was yesterday though, on account of his 8 a.m. lecture this morning, so there's no reason to think he'd be there again. Plus he'd talked about 'storming out' and 'clearing his head'; it wasn't like this stop was a daily transfer point the way it was for Hob.

Chances were good they'd never cross paths again.

~ Wednesday it's less a downpour and more a light shower, but it's still enough that an umbrella is practical.

And Hob is absolutely delighted as he steps off his first bus to see that Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Emo is there again, and again without an umbrella, hunched ineffectually into the collar of his coat and resembling nothing so much as a disgruntled wet cat. He perks up distinctly as Hob approaches with his umbrella angled forward in offering.

"You gallantly come to my rescue yet again." He tilts his head and glances up through lush black lashes, just this side of coy. "I thank you, sincerely, Mr…?"

"Hob, I'm Hob. Just Hob. You can call me Hob." Not his most suave, certainly, but this blatantly-flirtatious greeting atop his own delight has somewhat stolen his functioning brain cells.

"Hob," the guy repeats, unhurried, like he's savoring the taste of the name in his mouth, and smiles just a little bit. "You may call me Dream."

"Pleased to run into you again, Dream." Hob dimples brightly, delighted with the turn his day has taken, delighted that they've made proper introductions. "How was the head-clearing, the other day?"

"Effective." The guy—Dream—crowds close under the umbrella (Hob's largest, which he had pulled out yesterday just in case) and smooths the clinging water from his hair with one hand. His (damp) shoulder is firmly pressed against Hob's and his profile is absolutely beautiful, this close. Hob tries not to stare.

"Got your creativity flowing again, did it?"

"I managed to finish a very troublesome chapter Monday evening, yes."

Hob perks up at this new tidbit of information. "You're a writer, then?"

He gives a short nod, staring out into the rain, then glances sideways at Hob. "I have you to thank for my progress, also."

"Me?"

"The stories you shared…you inspired a direction for the scene that was plaguing me. I came out yesterday, with intent to thank you, but you were not here…?"

His voice lilts up just a touch on the end of his sentence, curiosity expressed without actually voicing the question, and Hob just smiles. "Yeah, Tuesday's my early-morning class. Sorry I missed you."

"No matter. I have now left the house three days in a row and my sister is distressingly pleased about it. She says it is good for my mental health."

"And what do you think?"

He sighs, heavily. "She is not incorrect." He glances sideways at Hob again, eyes narrowed prettily. "But I am not going to admit it to her."

Hob laughs; he can't help it. "You are so completely valid for that," he says, and when Dream smiles in return his spirits soar.

~ "Remembered your umbrella this time, I see!" Hob ignores the little pang of disappointment; just because he doesn't need to share his umbrella with Dream this time doesn't mean they can't still have a conversation.

"My sister reminded me, yes," Dream answers, and then to Hob's great surprise he lowers and closes the umbrella. "But I would prefer to share yours, if you're amenable." His eyes flick up, just a hint of hopeful uncertainty showing there.

"Of course." Hob moves close, brings his umbrella over Dream's head, heart thudding in his chest with delight. He hopes the great spreading grin on his face doesn't put Dream off; he can't quite get it under control.

If Dream notices, he gives no indication. "This routine is working well for me," he says, and it takes Hob a second to cotton on to what he means.

"What, catching the bus in the rain every morning?"

"Yes," Dream says serenely. "The company is. Refreshing." The corners of his mouth tilt up the smallest bit.

"Nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," Hob says, making a valiant effort to sound normal while something warm blooms in the vicinity of his heart. He shifts the umbrella, making sure they're both still sheltered.

"Writing flows more easily when I return home after our morning conversations," Dream says, as if this is something they've been doing for weeks instead of just days. "I shall have to credit you in my author's notes."

Hob laughs, absolutely delighted. "That is extremely flattering, my friend, but wholly unnecessary. But if I'm at all helpful? I'm glad."

One day maybe he'll ask if he can see Dream's writing, when they've been acquainted for more than a week; one day further, perhaps, he'll ask him on a date. It certainly seems he'd be amenable, but Hob knows himself and his tendency to rush in full-tilt and tells himself there's no harm in just. Seeing what happens, for a little while.

~ "Share my umbrella?"

Dream looks askance at him, hair fluttering prettily across his forehead in the breeze. "It is not raining, Hob."

"Well no, but. Bit windy, isn't it? Wouldn't want you to suffer any windburn. Umbrella makes a decent wind-break." He has oh-so-smoothly said 'wind' three times in ten seconds, and it is the flimsiest of excuses to begin with, but Dream only smiles as if he's said something profoundly wise.

"Indeed. Truly, I am fortunate to receive your continued chivalry." He crowds in close to Hob, who angles the umbrella behind them to keep the wind off, and smiles.

~ The other patrons at the bus stop are giving Hob weird looks as he opens his umbrella, but there's only one person here whose opinion matters.

Dream tilts one eyebrow up, amused. "The sun is shining today, Hob Gadling. Yet still you offer your umbrella?"

"It's tradition, at this point. And besides—got a very fair complexion, haven't you? Bit of shade will do you good."

"…As you say." His smile is radiant as the sunshine, and Hob's heart thumps happily. "Thank you."

~ It's been about a month since that first meeting when Hob leaves campus for the afternoon and finds Dream waiting at the college bus stop. The morning's rain has cleared throughout the day but now rises again as a light drizzly mist; Dream is huddled into the meager shelter offered over the bench while pulling out his umbrella. Hob hurries over with his own already deployed, playing into their established pattern.

"Fancy meeting you here?" he greets, smiling. He's delighted to run into Dream outside their developed routine, and the way that Dream kind of blooms to see him is very satisfying.

"Hob. At last," Dream smiles, ducking under Hob's broad umbrella.

"Been waiting long?"

"…Somewhat. You see. I have. A question, I would like to ask you. An important one." The gravity in his tone is clear, and Hob might be worried if it wasn't so plainly obvious that Dream was nervous. "But I do not know your schedule, beyond your morning commute, and so…"

"Have you just been hanging around half the day waiting for me to show up?" Hob is equal parts appalled and delighted.

Dream meets his eyes briefly, glance flicking away again too quickly to interpret as anything other than confirmation. "Perhaps."

Hob laughs, aware he should possibly be alarmed by what any normal person would read as stalking behavior but utterly charmed by it instead. "Your patience has its reward, then. What was it you wanted to ask me?"

"I…ah." Dream colors prettily, the faintest pink flush across his cheeks as he stumbles over actually speaking his question, and Hob is rapidly escalating from 'charmed' to 'enamoured'. "I am not. Good, at—at—"

"Obviously it was important enough to identify my most likely location and wait hours for me to show up, right?" Hob cuts in gently. "Go ahead. I promise I won't judge you." He can hear the fondness seeping into his own voice, and apparently so can Dream. He lifts wide eyes to Hob, lips pressed together resolutely, and heaves a fortifying breath out through his nose.

"I wish to ask. Would you like to have dinner sometime. Or. Or coffee, perhaps."

The bus pulls up at that exact moment, disgorging a single passenger; Hob barely hesitates before waving the driver on.

"That was our bus?" Dream states, lilting up in such a way that it's clear he means Why did we not board, why are we still standing here?

"Well, yes," Hob agrees, very aware of the size of the dopey grin on his face. "But you see, a very dear friend of mine has just asked if I might like a bite to eat with him, and I know the most amazing little spot right around the corner."

"That. That is 'yes', then? Now?" Dream seems delightedly flummoxed, and it ratchets Hob straight up to 'besotted'. How could Dream think he'd ever say anything else? Although it occurs to him belatedly Dream might have other obligations for the evening.

"Well 'now' is certainly 'sometime', yes? If you're free, that is. If you've something else you have to do—"

"No. Nothing else," Dream cuts him off, and the warm smile spreading over his face makes Hob's heart skip a beat. "There is nowhere I should like to be more, just now."

Of course not, not when he'd dedicated the bulk of his day to waiting for Hob just to ask him out. "Wonderful. Shall we?" He offers his arm, angling the umbrella to keep the misty sprinkle off them still.

Dream tucks a hand into his elbow and falls into step beside him.

~ "Wanna try mine?" Hob offers, plucking a crispy slab of cheese from his plate with a bit of everything on it and holding it out, other hand cupped underneath. They are talking over plates of halloumi fries; Hob had gone for his favorite—smothered in pomegranate molasses and za'atar yoghurt with pomegranate arils and fresh mint garnish—and Dream had taken his drizzled in honey and sprinkled with sesame seeds.

"Thank you, I am fine," Dream says, rote politeness in his voice but curiosity in his eyes, and Hob arches a brow.

"Worried you'll have to spend a month stuck with me for each pomegranate seed?"

"That would hardly dissuade me," Dream replies, with a sweet little smile that hits Hob straight in the gut. "Very well, since you offer so generously." He leans forward, grasps Hob's wrist instead of the proffered food, and bites through the warm-crusted cheese while Hob's still holding it, lips brushing Hob's fingers as he pulls back.

He chews, making a contemplative face, and gently plucks the rest of it from Hob's hand while Hob is still scrambling to reboot his poor blue-screening brain and not make a fool of himself.

"Do you know," Hob blurts, grasping for anything, "whatever Persephone might have eaten in the underworld, it would've bound her there the same? It wasn't just because it was a pomegranate?"

"I did know that, yes," Dream replies, and Hob feels the flush of having said something fairly stupid rising into his face. "The pomegranate is a tidy choice for enumerating the months she stays below, I think, with the countable seeds." He plucks one of the ruby-red arils from the cheese that Hob had given him between two delicate fingertips and places it in his mouth, eyes on Hob in a way that makes him lose his brain again.

"Yes that's. Good point," Hob tries, and thankfully Dream pops the rest of the halloumi fry into his mouth without any fanfare or continued eye contact.

"I can see why you like this," Dream says, once his mouth is empty. "It is a wonderful blend of flavors. But the honey-sesame remains my favorite." He takes a bite from his own plate, and Hob tries not to fixate on the casual way he licks the honey off his rose-petal lips.

"I wrote an alternate version of Persephone's story, once," Dream says then, eyes not exactly meeting Hob's or even on his face, darting between his shoulder and his sternum and dropping back to his plate. "I made it her choice; they met and fell in love long before the abduction, which was closer to an elopement. She ate the pomegranate seeds deliberately so as not to be taken away from the partner she had chosen. In my version, it was the pomegranate specifically that would bind her."

"That sounds brilliant," Hob says, feeling a little starry-eyed; Dream has never really talked specifics about his writing before. "I'd love to read it sometime."

"It. Was many many years ago, before I ever considered publication," Dream admits, barely glancing up at Hob, still a little skittish. "I thought it a unique idea at the time, but there are dozens of Persephone remixes to be had and I have never felt it warranted the effort of reworking it from my current skill level or attempting to publish."

"Well for what it's worth, your version is the remix I'd be most interested in reading," Hob says, utterly sincere, smiling from ear to ear. "If you ever wanted to share, that is." He bites into another halloumi fry and speaks around it. "I would never pressure you to let me read your stuff if you don't want to. But I'm always interested."

"…Thank you." Dream covers his awkwardness with another dainty bite from his own plate, a hint of pink dusting across his cheekbones. When his mouth is empty again, he offers, "Mostly I have written. Romance."

"Oh?"

"Not under my own name. But yes."

"See it's fascinating that pseudonyms are so prevalent through the ages, and for so many reasons," Hob starts, and as the conversation turns in this new direction Hob does not miss how Dream relaxes to have the focus shifted from the vulnerable personal glimpse of himself he'd offered.

And Hob maybe falls a little bit deeper.

~ It's still lightly raining three hours later; they've talked about so many things, they've had dessert and then had coffee since neither of them were ready to leave yet. It's dark by the time they finally head back to the bus stop; Dream presses up against Hob's side beneath the umbrella and Hob thrills at the warmth, the closeness, the graceful slide of Dream's hand into his and the way he doesn't let go until the bus shows up.

~ It's raining again the first time Hob kisses Dream, pulling him close beneath the umbrella outside the theater, one finger tipped beneath Dream's chin; the kiss is tentative, but Dream's mouth is warm and the way he lists gently forward has Hob coming back again, soft and sweet and smiling helplessly.

~ Three straight days of rain are clearing on the afternoon that Dream takes Hob to the bookstore and leads him to the romance section, points him to a shelf in the 'M's where there are a dozen or so titles by Morpheus, mononymous. Hob doesn't make the connection for a second, and then he does.

"Is this you?" he asks, reaching for one of the hardbacks, and sure enough there's Dream's photo inside the dust jacket, solemn and styled and somehow less authentic than the Dream standing nervously next to him.

"Yes," Dream confirms, and soft warmth floods Hob's chest. Dream has been very reserved about his writing—"It is one thing to publish for strangers, but I find it…much more difficult to share, when it is someone whose opinon matters to me personally," he'd said once, and being trusted, opened up to like this—Hob is not oblivious to the privilege of it.

"You've certainly written a lot," he says, warmth and fondness curling in his chest. "And you're okay with me reading any of these?"

"Yes; however—" he reaches into the messenger bag slung over his hip, withdraws a large clear envelope with what looks like a manuscript inside. "If you wish to read my writing, I would have you begin with this." He hands it to Hob.

Hades and Persephone: The Morpheus Remix the paper proclaims through the plastic, and Hob looks up at Dream, delighted. "Is this—?"

"It needs a proper title." Dream shrugs, hunches into his coat a little bit. "I would like—perhaps you might help me come up with one, as it was you who inspired me to revisit and update it."

Hob cannot for the life of him stop the broad smile that overtakes his face, is not even trying. "I would be honored."

~ It is raining buckets the night that Dream comes home with Hob, and even the umbrella is not enough to prevent their getting a bit wet. But that's alright, Hob thinks, with Dream's eager mouth warm and hungry on his as they move in the direction of his bedroom, it's not like their clothes were staying on anyway.

He lays Dream gently in his bed, covers him with his own body, makes love to him with slow and ardent urgency while the rain lashes against his window. Later, after, when the winds have calmed and thunder rumbles soothingly in the distance, he holds Dream curled against him, asleep, and he thinks. He thinks about umbrellas, and shielding, and guardedness, and how Dream has slowly gifted so many of his vulnerabilities to Hob; he thinks about the duality of potential in that realization, the power it gives him to either harm or protect, and vows to himself that he will always be Dream's metaphorical umbrella when it's within his capabilities.

~ It's sprinkling just a little when Hob realizes that he's going to marry Dream.

It's early Autumn and they're at the park; Dream is under his own umbrella (look, sometimes sharing just isn't practical, as much as Hob still loves faithfully carrying on their schtick), scattering peas and grapes for the ducks and Hob is hanging back, watching him with an aching fondness in his heart.

Dream is beautiful, and thoughtful, and engaging. He is guarded and private, but so warm and emotional and giving once he has let you in. He is smart, and witty, with the driest sense of humor and the most endearingly terrible laugh and Hob has fallen desperately in love with him along the way.

He watches as a particularly bold duck comes close and snaps up the pea that had fallen directly at the toe of Dream's boot; watches the soft delight that steals over Dream's face, and he knows.

~ It is the following Spring before he asks. They are at the bus stop where they first met and it's a bright sunny day; Hob's got the umbrella up and they're shoulder-to-shoulder beneath it. Dream is animated, excited, talking about his editor's latest feedback on his Persephone remix (The Seeds of Fate, they had decided to call it), and Hob is listening, very much interested but so so nervous. The little velvet box on his pocket is weighty, not physically of course but he can't stop touching it, hoping Dream will say yes, believing Dream will say yes.

At last, Dream turns to him, a little wrinkle of concern between his brows. "You feel…distracted; is everything alright?"

Hob smiles at him, entirely and wholeheartedly in love. He hooks the hand holding the umbrella with Dream's so their fingers are tangled together around it; he leans his forehead against Dream's, closes his eyes. "I have a question, I'd like to ask you. An important one." It's a deliberate echo of how Dream had asked him out more than a year ago; Hob can picture the way Dream smiles to recognize it, can feel one eyebrow lifting against his own.

He takes a deep breath, pulls the little box from his pocket and clicks the lid open. "Will you marry me?"

It's a quiet request, pitched low so the other couple people at the bus stop don't overhear, so that if Dream does wish to say no, he won't be under the public pressure of strangers to say yes for appearances' sake. Not that Hob expects him to say no.

He hopes he doesn't say no.

Dream pulls back and Hob opens his eyes, meeting the surprise and delight and disbelief in Dream's. Dream looks down at the ring in the open box in Hob's hand, touches a fingertip to the velvet-covered lid delicately, looks back up at Hob with joy blossoming in his face.

"Do you mean it? Truly?"

Hob swallows down the nervous lump in his throat, squeezes gently where his hand is tangled with Dream's around the handle of the umbrella. "More than anything," he murmurs, entranced by the gathering shine of happy tears in Dream's eyes. "Marry me. Please."

Dream makes a joyful little noise, wrenches his hand free and throws both arms around Hob's neck, kissing him soundly. Hob manages to snap the ring box closed and swing the umbrella low, wraps both arms around Dream's waist and kisses him back.

"Yes," Dream breathes wetly when they part a moment later. "Yes, of course yes, a thousand times, yes."

~ They marry in the park in August, the clouds high and the breeze warm. Hob puts up the umbrella when they reach the crux of the ceremony; he holds its history over them while they say their vows, while they slip rings on one another's fingers, and then they seal their marriage with a tender heartfelt kiss beneath its promise of care and protection.

= Started: 2/3/24 Drafted: 2/24/24 Posted: 2/25/24

Fluffbruary 2024 Prompts Day 3: umbrella seashore mist Day 4: camera lush beau Day 5: rescue inertia lullaby Day 6: tie embarrassment* dessert Day 7: potatoes blue glass Day 8: shower blessed layer Day 9: urgency kneel rural Day 10: flush angel owl Day 11: reflection water apology Day 12: graceful volcano blanket Day 18: suave cologne gradual* Day 19: teacakes flood feature Day 20: smooth glitters queen Day 23: rhythm chalk humor Day 24: spring fuzzy silky

*The word did not get used but the concept is very much in there

#TJs Fics #Fluffbruary 2024 #TJs Fluffbruary #Dreamling #Sandman #wip: umbrella boys

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issylra · 1 year

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my eye's caught-- they tripped over the Phone Sex square. it could be interpreted so many ways: long distance dreamling, one traveling for work for weeks/months and they miss each other. maybe Dream travels to another country even and there's a time difference and the only time they can call each other is during like, Hob's office hours and they get frisky.

or Dream is a phone sex operator and he's really good at it. it's just a thing he does on the side for extra cash. can you picture him like... on his work phone hanging up wet laundry on the line to dry, phone propped up to his ear with a shoulder while he moans about how good that is. taking a roast out of the oven, saying with rehearsed words how "oh yeah, so big..." or washing dishes and crying out in fake orgasm-- just banal, mindless ridiculousness-- Dream is never effected. it's just another job to him.

but then Hob calls on like, a drunken, lonely whim or a dare, and there's a connection. maybe Hob is like, "yeah so, how are you?" and just wants conversation and then starts requesting Dream by name and its only like, after 5 calls they actually do phone sex and Dream is definitely a little bit in love??

i just really love the anonymity of it all, could be fun! <3

This is so good and also hilarious? The idea of Dream as a phone sex operator — that voice, but also his complete lack of interest in anything the other person is saying — makes me die a little bit inside. Hob calling because maybe he's gone through a bad break-up, he's drunk and lonely. Terrible financial decision, but he just wants to talk to someone. Dream starts up with the usual, "what are you wearing?", describes his own ~provocative~ outfit (he's really just wearing an old t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, it's laundry day, sue him). Hob hears the distinct sound of scrubbing and running water in the background. "Are you doing the dishes right now?" They talk for way too long. Hob's going to burn through his entire life savings, but he keeps calling, and they keep talking. Hob is like "I'm paying to talk to him, obviously he's not interested in me like that." and Dream is like "He keeps paying to talk to me and I haven't had to fake orgasm a single time. What does this mean? [cue math lady meme]"

All of this to say, I think you've saved me because Phone Sex was one of the squares I was really stuck on, and now I'm ready to write the whole thing.

#answered #valeriianz #dreamling bingo #phone sex au

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magnusbae · 4 months

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Last Line Tag Game 💖

Tagged by @cuubism 🥰🥰🥰

"What don't you understand? He doesn't want to exist."

That's Vader 😪 Burying Anakin a little deeper into the graveyard of his mind. 😑

So let's see.....

I'm tagging: @aigoos, @virahaus, @predator-padawan, @valeriianz,

Cheers for a great weekend~ 💖💖💖

#Thanks for still tagging me despite my being so so so very bad at answering those... I like the @s....... 🙈#Those who I tagged feel free to do or not or even answer it in a year like i often do XD #cuubism #buns.w #buns.all #aigoos #virahaus #predator padawan #valeriianz

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bruce-wayne-simp · 4 months

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Based off of this ask for @gabessquishytum

Wanting, Kneading

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.7k

Pairing: Dreamling (human au)

Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless, Orpheus (mentioned)

Tagging: @valeriianz, @chaosheadspace, and @tj-dragonblade ❤️❤️

-> Ao3 Link <-

Dream thought hiring a private chef was a good idea. And it was. At first.

He had just gotten full custody of Orpheus and, after a few weeks of disastrous attempts at making dinner– which resulted in burnt food, dishes in the sink, and, ordering out– he had finally decided on a chef named Robert Gadling, or Hob, as he had enthusiastically insisted Dream call him upon their first meeting.

Dream had realized he was screwed when Hob's warm, brown eyes lit up the minute he saw Orpheus. Taking the four year old's tiny hand in his own to shake, and hanging on to every word that came out of his mouth, few that they were.

The fact that he was handsome, too, didn't help Dream's plight in the slightest.

Which is how he has currently found himself standing over the kitchen island with Hob, Orpheus at preschool, brownies cooling on the counter, learning how to knead bread dough.

"It's really quite simple actually." Hob starts as he clears the island. "A lot of people use stand mixers for it. Which is nice if you're in a rush, but I mean, people have been doing it this way for thousands of years, you know? Why change it up now? Besides, I like using my hands."

Hob directs Dream to stand across from him and starts explaining how to work the dough, but Dream is distracted. The other man's sleeves are pushed up, exposing his hairy, thick forearms. His muscles flex and move deliciously under the skin as he kneads the dough, his instructing voice weirdly soothing.

Dream startles as Hob plops the dough ball down in front of Dream. "Your turn."

Dream covers his hands in flour and tries desperately to scrounge up some recollection of what Hob had been doing, and clumsily tries to replicate it. Hob, for his part, is very patient with him, coaching him through it.

Dream huffs after his third failed attempt. "I can't do it."

"Nonsense. Of course you can." Hob smiles and steps around the table toward him.

Dream's breath hitches and he tenses, but forces himself to relax as Hob moves to stand behind him.

The other man gets close. Warm, strong hands grasp his, moving them in order to properly knead the dough.

"Don't be so gentle. You can be rough with it, it will be fine." Hob's breath is hot on his ear, sending chills down his spine, arousal starting to simmer in his belly.

Hob keeps moving their hands, pressing them together, his fingers interlocked with Dream's. He can feel Hob's calluses, rough on the back of his own hand.

Hob presses in even closer– oh fuck– nearly forcing Dream's body into the counter, Hob's chest meeting his back. He can feel the warmth of him through his shirt. His eyes flutter.

On the next downward motion, Dream pushes himself back and feels Hob's prick grind against his ass. He's hard. He hears a stuttering breath against his ear. Hob grinds back against him a bit.

"Dream." He breathes.

"Hob." It comes out as a whine.

"Fuck. Hold on." He lets go of one of Dream's hands to grab the kneaded dough off the counter and slam it back into the bowl with a metallic clang. "It needs to rest."

In one swift motion, Hob turns him around and slots their lips together, crowding him up against the counter. Dream feels dizzy as Hob's tongue enters his mouth. He moans, flour-covered hands moving up into Hob's hair, leaving streaks of white.

"Fuck, Dream." Hob gasps.

Dream grinds his hips against Hob's, making him groan. Hob's hands move to grab the underside of his thighs, hoisting him up so they can grind against each other. Dream's arousal turns sharper at the display of strength.

Dream pulls away and looks him in the eye. "Fuck me."

From his spot on the counter, he watches Hob's eyes darken. The fingers gripping his thighs tighten the slightest bit.

"Yes." Hob leans in and kisses him again, hands petting Dream's sides and hips. Hob tastes sweet, their tongues sliding against each other. Hob's hands slide up to slip underneath his shirt, Dream shudders as his hands stroke the sensitive skin of his belly.

"You're gorgeous." Hob's fingers are carding through his hair now. He tilts his head back and groans.

As Hob kisses him, he reaches around the other man's back to untie his apron. Hob pulls away from his mouth briefly to pull the strap over his head, and Dream tosses it across the kitchen. He returns to kissing Hob with a vengeance, pulling the other man close by his belt loops. Dream rolls his hips sharply, pulling a low groan from him. A thrill shudders through his spine at the sound.

Hob’s hands are under his shirt now, gripping his waist. His hands are slightly sticky from the dough, but Dream could not care less. He pushes his tongue into Hob’s mouth, tasting him.

He starts to unbutton Hob’s shirt, revealing thick, glorious, coarse, brown chest hair that he wants to bury his face in, though he settles for dragging his nails through it. Hob tugs at the edge of his shirt and Dream quickly pulls away to let him pull it up over his head, letting it fall to the floor.

Dream pushes his chest into Hob’s, rough hair tickling his own bare chest. They stay like that for a little bit, grinding slightly, teasing each other, breathing the same air. His eyes are warm, and fond.

God, he’s fucked.

Dream reaches up, slowly pushing the shirt off of Hob’s shoulders. They're broad, strong, dwarfing his own slight build. Hob kisses him again, this time trailing down to start kissing his neck. He tilts his head to the side, sighing at the rough feel of his stubble.

“You said you wanted me to fuck you, darling?” Hob gusts, breath hot against his neck.

“Yes, please.” Dream huffs a breath as Hob steps away for a second, opening a cabinet and grabbing the olive oil.

He sets it down on the counter, yanking Dream off, spinning him around and guiding him to bend over the counter with one strong hand on his back. The show of strength sets his stomach aflutter, anticipation and arousal melding together.

Strong arms encircle his waist as Hob reaches around him to undo his jeans, pulling them down to his thighs. He settles himself against the table as he hears Hob open the oil, soon feeling blunt, slick fingers at his hole.

Hob takes his time fingering him open, kissing anywhere he can reach and driving Dream crazy by switching between ignoring his prostate and steadily rubbing it until he’s begging.

“Fuck, Hob- please, please.” Hob gives him one final hard pass over his prostate, the pleasure zinging up his spine, making his eyes roll a little, before he pulls his fingers out. He strokes a soothing hand along Dream’s spine as he slicks himself up.

Dream groans out a, “Fuck.” As the head of Hob’s cock presses against his hole. Slowly, slowly, Hob slides in. The oil isn't quite as good as the lube he has upstairs, the stretch burning a bit, but it feels incredible, his legs trembling with it.

When Hob finally bottoms out, Dream is breathing hard, his every exhale tinged with a whine. He feels warm lips press against the nape of his neck, a quiet ‘shhh’ soothing him.

They stay like that for a while, Hob running his fingers through Dream's hair and whispering something that Dream can't focus enough to catch.

“Hob-” Dream whines. Hob runs his hands down Dream’s thighs, coming back up to settle at his waist.

“I’ve got you, love.” He pulls out slowly, cock dragging along his inner walls, before thrusting back in again, holding him in place, hips digging slightly into the counter’s edge.

Dream moans, breath hitching with every hard thrust. Hob’s cock is constantly sliding against his prostate, sending pleasure radiating throughout his body, through his abdomen, down to his toes.

Hob starts a fast rhythm, sending Dream higher and higher, the heat building in his belly at a fast pace.

A chocolatey scent fills his nose, and something small and warm is being pushed against his lips, “Open up, love.”

He does, and suddenly his senses are overwhelmed with rich chocolate. The overstimulation of his taste buds, mixed with the pleasure coursing through his body is nearly too much, he doesn't know which to focus on.

“Please, please.” He begs. Hob grabs his hips and somehow starts fucking him even faster.

“Come for me, darling. You can do it.” He pants, his thrusts starting to get erratic.

Dream keens, back arching. He scrabbles to grab ahold of something, anything. Hob’s hand finds his and he squeezes, surely nearly breaking it, as he screams his pleasure.

He feels the warmth of Hob spilling into him a few moments later. Hob leans heavily onto the counter over top of Dream as they come down.

After a few minutes, Hob starts to straighten up. Dream hisses as he pulls out, and Hob breathes a, “Sorry, love.”

They both stand and silently fix themselves up as best they can. Which isn't much, at least in Dream’s case, he has flour covering his chest and face. Irritatingly enough, Hob looks more put together, if a bit flushed. He chuckles at Dream’s scowl.

“Here.” Hob grabs a dish towel, wets it, and gets to work wiping Dream’s face. His index finger is curled under his chin, tilting it up, and Dream can't stop staring at his eyes, focused on his task.

Hob finishes wiping the flour off of his face, and moves down to his chest before he catches Dream staring at him, seeming to realize he may have overstepped. He freezes, face flushing.

“Uh- I. I think you've got that covered, I'll just- uh. Bathroom! I'll go wash and then, uh, start cleaning up in here.” He rushes off, muttering something about, ‘Going to have to bin those brownies.’

Then Dream is left standing dumbly in the middle of his kitchen, the memory of strong hands and warmth all over his body, holding a damp dish towel.

Shit.

Fin.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus:

“Bin the ass brownies” - @seiya-starsniper 2024

#dreamling #dreamling fic #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my fic

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valiantstarlights · 8 months

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[The Proposal AU]

Inspired by: @voukkake 's art, and what @valeriianz wrote.

I have totally forgotten that I said Betty White's character should be played by Destiny. 😂 And while I changed my mind about the blanket just now, I'm still pushing for him to do the forest ritual scene. 💃 Anyway, here's my contribution to the dreamling The Proposal AU. 🖤

"Hey, are you both decent?" Johanna, Hob's younger sister, calls out as she raps a quick knock on the door of Hob's bedroom.

Hob, currently lounging on the bed and reading a novel, rolls his eyes and says, "Dream has never been decent once in his entire life, but I suppose we're both fully clothed at the moment."

Dream, who is getting some editing work done at Hob's desk, glares at him from the corner of his eye.

Hob beams at him as the door opens and Jo enters with one hand covering her eyes, while the other held out a wrapped package for either of them to take. "Just delivering this," she says. "Gran said it came in the mail this morning."

"It's already open," Hob notes, putting his book down as he moves to take it from her. "Who is it from?"

"Oh, uh, the entire Endless family? There are a lot of signatures on the letter."

Dream notices an envelope peeking out of the package, and it, too, has been opened. He stands quickly and slaps Hob's hand away before grabbing the letter himself.

"Well, okay, that's all," Jo says mysteriously as she turns back towards the door, trying to navigate her way out of Hob's room with one hand still placed firmly over her eyes. "I'm gonna go and find my noise-cancelling headphones and some duct tape. Just give me like a ten minute headstart, okay? Please? For my sanity?"

"I have literally no idea what's going on," Hob says to the room at large: to Dream, who is reading the letter accompanying the package with a furious look on his face, and to Jo, who is using her other arm like a blind man's cane as she exits the room.

"You'll know soon, Hobsie!" Jo calls out as she crosses the threshold, and immediately slams the door shut. Hob then hears her tearing down the corridor to her room like the hounds of hell are chasing her. "Remember: ten minutes!" she yells out. "Not one second earlier!"

Helpless, Hob turns to his boss. Fake fiancee. Whatever. "Wanna clue me in on why my sister is acting weirder than usual?"

In response, Dream holds up a hand, nonverbally telling him to wait until he finishes reading the letter. A few seconds later, he scoffs in disgust and throws the letter towards Hob, who scrambles to catch it.

"The last paragraph," Dream spits, tone utterly disgusted, then stalks back towards the desk. When he starts typing again, it sounded like he was manifesting for his fingers to turn into hammers so he could destroy the keyboard. "And once you're done reading, burn both the letter and that..infernal package, will you?"

Hob, mystified at what the fuck is actually going on, turns the paper over to read the last paragraph.

'We are sending this letter with The Babymaker, which, if you have already forgotten--like you have forgotten all about our entire family's existence for the past few years--is the Endless family blanket that has been passed down through the generations, in the hopes that you and your fiancee will be blessed with many children.'

Hob chokes on his spit as he reaches the end of the paragraph. "What the fuck?"

"Precisely," Dream says bitterly. "No doubt my parents and a couple of my siblings find this entire situation amusing."

"Okay, first of all," Hob says, very gingerly setting both the package and the letter with the envelope at the farthest corner of the room from the two of them, being very careful not to touch the blanket's fabric, "Who the fuck names their blanket The Babymaker? And second of all, of all the heirlooms to pass down to your children, it has to be the blanket that each and every ancestor used when they fucked? Really?"

"Now you understand why I do not interact with most of my family members," Dream says. "This is not the first time they have gone to great lengths to humiliate me, although sending the blanket to potentially humiliate me in the eyes of my soon-to-be in-laws stink of desperation."

The more Hob learns about Dream's biological family, the more he wants to punch them in the face. No wonder Dream acts like he's under attack all the time. Heck, if Hob grew up in a home where he was treated like shit, he wouldn't emerge prickly and wary. He'd be a full-blown bastard who punches first and talks it out never.

"We could send them a letter back," Hob offers, a little cheekily to infuse some humor in the situation. Dream is clenching his jaw so hard, and a small, miniscule, microscopic part of Hob wants to run his thumb gently over where the muscles are bunched up. Dream was having a pretty okay day before all this. Like, sure, he was muttering that the writer whose work he's currently editing is an idiot, but that's his usual thing. And Hob likes listening to him rant and read ridiculous passages from the manuscript.

(He'd never admit that, of course, but...he's come to like it. He sometimes even looks forward to it.)

"And what shall we say, hm?" Dream challenges, hostility stiffening his shoulders. "That we are grateful for their gift and we are keen to invite them to our wedding? Because this entire thing might be a sham, but I would rather eat hot coals than have either of my parents walk me down the aisle, or my twin siblings be part of the wedding party."

Hob gives in to the temptation and walks towards his desk. He ignores the way Dream sits up even straighter, like he's ready to get into a physical fight, and gently runs his thumb over Dream's jaw.

Immediately, as soon as Hob's thumb makes contact with Dream's jaw, Dream's eyelashes flutter, and his brows furrow. He looks utterly confused. Was he expecting Hob to hurt him? Hob grits his own teeth at that, but takes care not to let the sudden flare of anger show on his face.

When Dream looks up to meet Hob's gaze, Hob could still see the guarded way he holds himself, but there's also yearning in the line of his neck. Hob rubs his jaw again, and does not remove his hand from where it cups Dream's face. He could feel Dream lean infinitesimally closer, and he wordlessly lets him, continuing to run his thumb back and forth in a comforting gesture.

"Disclaimer," Hob says softly, at the sudden hush of the room. "What I'm gonna say next is a joke at your family's expense, so please don't commit violence against my person."

Dream's eyes actually sparkle at that, and the corner of his lips lifts the tiniest amount. "Go on, then," he says. "I welcome jokes at my family's expense. I will even give you bonus points if you make fun of my parents and my twin siblings."

Well. Alright then.

"I was thinking," Hob says slowly, "maybe we should write back and say we didn't need the blanket at all, since I totally got you pregnant weeks ago when we fucked at your place, just after you gave the most romantic proposal ever. The doctor said we're having twins, and since I'm a total simp for you, I will allow you to commit all sorts of crimes, including not letting our children meet your parents and your twin siblings, and burning the Endless family's precious blanket heirloom at the very first opportunity."

"You would dare invite the wrath of the entire Endless family, both the living and the dead, just to please my arsonist tendencies?" Dream asks, but his eyes are crinkled in laughter, and he's actually smiling.

"Yeah," Hob says, suddenly feeling a strange, tender sensation in his chest. Dream absolutely looks breathtaking when he smiles. "Absolutely."

"Then come," Dream says, and stands. Hob watches him pick up the package holding The Babymaker, as well as the envelope and letter that Hob had set aside. "We still have an hour before dinner, and I would rather not sleep in the same room as this wretched thing."

Fuck, Hob thinks inanely, mind still replaying how Dream's smile widened as Hob talked shit about his family. They were really gonna burn The Endless family's highly inappropriate and very disgusting heirloom.

"Hob," Dream says, now on the threshold of Hob's room. One eyebrow was raised in a manner that should definitely not make Hob's nether regions interested. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," Hob says quickly, and rushes to Dream's side. He feels like he's gonna trip at any moment. "It could prove cathartic for you," he says, a little stupidly. He has to say something so he doesn't think about Dream's smile and his imperiously raised eyebrow. "And symbolic. Like watching bad memories burn and be reduced to nothing."

Dream hums and takes Hob's arm as they walk down the stairs to go outside. It's a bit chilly out, but not too much. Apparently, it's more important to Dream that they burn the damn thing than pause for a second to don a jacket. "Reword that, and I'll allow you to use it in your novel."

"Great," Hob squeaks out at Dream's fond tone. "Definitely will remember that one."

He has already forgotten what he just said, his entire being focused on Dream's warm hand on his arm, and the scent of his own shampoo.

"I will remember for you," Dream assures him. "Eidetic memory, remember?"

Hob was about to say that that is something he will definitely not be forgetting any time soon, except it was at that moment that they hear Jo holler all the way from her room, "Finally found my noise-cancelling headphones! The two of you can fuck now!"

Their eyes meet, and there is a moment of silence, before Dream lets out the most frightening laugh Hob has ever heard, except all he feels is giddy and fond and slightly off balance, like something huge just happened, and his entire world has been changed irrevocably.

#the proposal AU #dreamling #the sandman #my writing #good job my thumbs #the babymaker blanket from the movie always baffled me 👀#like. excuse me but what kind of family heirloom is that?? 😨#no thank you i would rather be disowned 😂#my 'Hob and Jo are siblings' agenda continues 💃

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