My brain held me hostage until I yielded and drew this fanart of a fic (x) written by amazingly talented @cuubism. What can I say, it was catering to my taste. The concept of Hob attempting to steal a crown from the dreaming? Yes, please. And the description of Dream's fluid movement? god, that's exactly how I would imagine it... This paragraph absolutely killed me:
Dream strode down the few steps separating them, fluid as water streaming over a fall, his long cloak trailing behind him. Majestic creature. Majestic king. Did he really expect Hob to be at all normal about it?
Well, I was not normal about it. like. at all. *proceeds to die*
Also, I finished this page three days ago but then I held it hostage in return. Because I needed to prepare for an exam. Yes, I totally delayed preparing for the exam in favor of drawing this. Shame on me. So I needed to speedrun the studying and I had literally no time to post this. (for those wondering. yes, i did pass the exam lol)
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for @magnusbae
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“Hob Gadling,” Dream says, and there’s a laugh deep in it, hidden in his eyes. “Am I to understand you’ve been engaging in petty theft?”
“I used to rob people on the road, and this surprises you?” says Hob, leaning against his kitchen counter. Then holds up a hand before Dream can respond. “Now, to be clear, my highwayman days are behind me. I’ve evolved. I’ve no interest in hurting people over riches. Also, would be bloody difficult to commit highway robbery nowadays.”
“I see you’ve thought it through,” says Dream from where he’s still lingering in the kitchen doorway. He clearly finds all of this highly amusing.
“I have, and rest assured, this theft was by no means petty. I’m pretty sure this is considered grand larceny.”
“Ah. I see it is no fun for you if decades of prison time are not on the line,” says Dream.
Hob winks at him. “Would you really let me go to prison for decades?”
Dream raises a haughty eyebrow. “I am your get-out-of-jail-free card?”
“Not getting caught is my get-out-of-jail-free card. You think I don’t know what I’m doing? You think I would do this for a lark without a plan?”
“Speaking frankly?” says Dream. “Yes.”
Hob laughs. “Alright, caught. But in my defense! It was for an important reason.”
Dream finally steps properly into the kitchen. “And what reason is that? I know you have no need for riches.”
“Wasn’t about need. Was only about charm. And getting in your good graces. And being the most irresistible and rakish boyfriend I can. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you looked at me at that first, portentous meeting.”
He lets Dream step in, closer and closer, like a predator with its prey. Doesn’t move. “You wish to give me the scrappy bandit I apparently so desired back then?”
“No apparently about it,” says Hob, and oh, it’s fun to be bold with Dream, now that he feels reasonably sure of not scaring him off. “But it’s okay, because I was even more weak for the prissy lord that you were. You know how much you could have gotten me to do if only you’d asked?”
Dream is standing right before him now, crowding him against the counter. His eyes gleam in the dark. “Does that include grand larceny?”
Hob laughs and lays his hands on his sides, feeling the taught realness of him, so much more dangerous than he’d thought of the lord he’d met in that tavern, and so much more glorious for it. “And more.”
He fishes the ruby from his pocket, letting it dangle on its long chain and catch the kitchen lights. He dips his head low as he holds it out to Dream. “A token of my affection. For my lord.”
Dream lets the gem fall into his palm, examining the fine cut of it. It doesn’t have the darkness, the strange angles of his now-broken dreamstone, but it’s still a gorgeous gem. Deep wine red, bottomless depths within the facets. Like Dream himself.
“A token?” He echoes, lips tugging up in a smile. “A courtly gift for one you have no need to court?”
“A small gift for one I am endlessly devoted to,” Hob says, and Dream’s eyes meet his again. There’s a smile in them, now, a real one. The gem is worth a bloody fortune, but Dream cares not for the monetary value of things. This is about the symbol, the game, the effort of it, and it seems it’s landed.
He does like pretty things, too. Hob knows it well.
“Put it on me, then,” Dream says.
He ducks his head for Hob to clasp the chain around the back of his neck. Hob kisses his forehead when he’s done.
The ruby sits against his breastbone, shining against the bare skin at the center of the deep vee in his shirt.
Hob squints. He could have sworn Dream was wearing something with more coverage when he arrived. “Did you… change your shirt?”
Dream smirks. “Perhaps. Such art requires its proper canvas.”
“Cheeky. You’re right, though.” Hob admires it on him, and sighs. So worth it.
Dream kisses his cheek, like they really are courting and he’s shyly accepting the gift. Hob takes hold of his face and pulls him into a proper one, one that’ll leave his lips as red as the gem. God, he better be able to convince Dream into wearing that and nothing else in bed. That sounds like a good way to die, if he ever were to choose one.
“How’d you find out about this, anyway?” he asks, letting his hands wander to Dream’s hair to keep him close.
“Matthew. He admitted that he helped you.” He doesn’t sound too upset about it, fortunately, for Matthew’s sake.
Hob sighs. “I tried to keep his involvement quiet. Blabbermouth.”
“He had fun, apparently,” says Dream wryly.
“Hope you won’t punish him too much.”
Dream smirks. “Just a little.”
“Going to punish me, then?” Hob says. It's meant to be challenging but he can’t keep the grin off his face.
Dream pushes him against the counter, hands pressed tight to his hips. “Hmm.” His voice rumbles through Hob’s body. His eyes are alight with fondness and danger both, and a shiver runs up Hob’s spine. “Just a little.”
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