#musician hob au

[valeriianz]

Funk-Inflicted | G | pure marshmallow fluff | musician Hob |

------------------

Hob takes the stairs up to his apartment, smiling broadly and hefting his messenger bag a little higher up his shoulder. He’d gotten out of work early and he knew today was Dream’s day off, so he was eager to surprise him and spend the evening together.

As he gets to their floor, he hears music playing loud enough in one of the surrounding apartments to be heard– muffled– down the hallway. Hob’s ears perk at the familiar sound of trumpets blaring and a funky bass tune accompanying it.

A slow grin spreads across his face as he gets to Dream and his shared apartment, the source of the music discovered.

Hob slips his key into the lock and slowly pushes the door open, peeking his head inside and slowly stepping through the threshold. And what he sees nearly makes him fall sideways.

Dream is dancing to the music. Well, he’s trying to. Mostly he’s tossing his head from side to side as he sways with the broom in his hands akin to something Hob has seen in an 80s film.

Hob looks around briefly, noticing the spotless living room. Clearly he’d caught Dream going on a cleaning binge, but had gotten distracted while he swept. But it was obvious barely any sweeping was happening at all, if the way Dream began to shake his ass was any indication.

Hob’s heart fluttered in his chest, crossing his arms and fully relaxing against the wall, watching Dream move and getting lost in the music. Dream was always a vision, effortlessly beautiful, but also prideful, serious, only ever loosening up when he was alone with Hob. And so seeing him like this, defenses down, twisting the broom in his hands like a tango partner, nearly made Hob laugh with joy. Hob was in love with the goofiest contradiction on the planet.

Dream brings the broom handle towards his mouth like a microphone and parts his lips to sing along to the chorus as it comes up,

“Why, it's a pleasure to meet ya You look like one incredible creature…”

Hob bites his lip to keep from laughing. Dream was singing to Hob’s music. His lyrics. Singing along to a song Hob had written after the night they’d first met.

“Wanna treat you fine, let's dance and grind Get so funk-inflicted, it's a crime…”

Hob’s huge smile simmered down as he took a deep breath through his nose, filling his chest, remembering how Dream had looked that night, standing in the crowd, the only person in the dingy club not dancing. But staring up at Hob like they were the only people in the room.

“You're divine you're sublime and well you blow my mind, ay– AH! Jesus Christ Hob–!!”

Dream had finally spotted him, stumbling backwards and eyes blown wide in shock.

Hob finally allowed the laugh that he’d been keeping down to fill his lungs and flood past his lips, his arms tightening around his middle and tipping forward with it.

“Fuck! Stop laughing at me!” Dream screeched, a deep shade of pink blooming on his neck and ears as he dropped the broom and ran to turn the music down. “Why are you home so early??”

Hob got himself under control, wiping the corners of his eyes as he finally dropped his bag and approached Dream.

“They let me out early. And I wasn’t laughing at you,” Hob said, his smile still wide and goofy as he took Dream by the hand and pulled him forward.

“Sure sounded like laughter,” Dream muttered, petulant now, unable to meet Hob’s eyes.

Hob hummed, vaguely paying attention to the progression of the music playing at a more reasonable level around them.

“I laughed because I’m happy.” Hob brought both of his hands around Dream’s face and encouraged him to meet his gaze. “You make me so happy,” he gave Dream a quick kiss on the lips. “You make me laugh,” another kiss. Hob could feel the tension slowly melt away as Dream kissed back. “And seeing you sing and dance to a song I wrote about you is a little surreal…”

Dream swallowed, slowly opening his eyes as Hob pulled away to slide his hands down Dream’s shoulders, arms, taking his hands. Hob raises one brow and grins again as he sings along to the upcoming verse.

“Well alright, he ignites when we hit the floor…” 

Hob steps from side to side, encouraging Dream to move again, who only laughs gently, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling, but he acquiesces anyway, smiling easily.

“... Like the vroom on a super Commodore…”

Hob swaps his hold on Dream’s hands for his waist and Dream follows along, wrapping his arms around Hob’s neck and allowing himself to be swayed.

“...Now if it makes a good story, well it's just worthwhile With him is like dealing stories in a sprinkler style…”

Dream snorts and Hob spins them, unable to not wear his heart on his sleeve, eyes focused only on the vision before him, and finally crooning one more line before leaning in for a proper kiss.

“You’re so sly.”

-----------------------

the song Dream is dancing to (and yes, TCE is totally Hob's band)

#dreamling #hob x dream #i have a lot of thoughts about this au lol #and might havta come back to it #Hob singing to Dream is my weakness dont judge #my writing #musician hob au

[deliriiuumm]

more snippet from my dreamling musician au: hob is finally home after 3 whole months of being dreamless!!!

“get in loser, we’re going to fucktown” - hob, probably

Dream is curled up on Hob’s side of the bed, wearing his boyfriend’s old, oversized shirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Hob gently touches Dream’s cheek. 

The light sleeper twitches minutely and flutters his eyes open at the soft and familiar touch. 

“Hello, love,” greets Hob.

Dream’s momentary confusion is replaced by a small but radiant smile. The beautiful sight seizes Hob’s heart and wrings it until he’s breathless. A lump lodges itself in his throat and his eyes well up with tears as he’s overcome with so many emotions he can’t even name. 

What he does know is that the all-consuming despair, greed, lust, and yearning that he’s been bottling up over the last three months have gathered into one colossal storm that washes him away, rendering him helpless. 

He grabs Dream’s face as soon as he sits up and locks their lips together. The hot and heavy breaths and those aggressive hands that grip at his hair, his neck, and his chest remind Hob of the phone calls they had almost every night. How he hated them. He hated them because they only left him reaching to the empty side of the bed and craving Dream’s presence even more. 

But they’re together now and he’s surrounding Dream and getting lost in his touch. Nothing can replace physical contact, especially after having been suppressed by distance for such a long time. Fuck, he’s waited so long for this moment and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t smother Dream with all he has. 

#dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling musician au #musician au

[ml-nolan]

Chapters: 6/? Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022), The Sandman (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Hob Gadling, Death of the Endless, Matthew the Raven, Desire of the Endless, Delirium of the Endless, Roderick Burgess, The Corinthian (Sandman), Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman), Jessamy the Raven, Alexander Burgess Additional Tags: Rock Star Dream of the Endless, Musicians, Record Store Owner Hob Gadling, BAMF Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus Loves Hob Gadling, Smut, Falling In Love, Stalker Roderick Burgess, Kidnapping, The Endless are a Rock Band, Alternate Universe - Human, Top Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Service Top Hob Gadling, Bottom Hob Gadling, Bottom Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Protective Hob Gadling, Happy Ending Summary:

"I should have asked you earlier, but I don't suppose you'll still be in town tomorrow?" Hob says. "It'd be lovely to see you again."

The man truly looks regretful as he says, "We won't."

It was worth a shot. They hardly know each other. There's no reason for the sick film of disappointment settling over him.

"Ah, well. I'm happy to have met you anyway," Hob says, subdued.

"Are you doing anything right now?"

--

When incognito rock star Dream of the Endless drifts into Hob Gadling's record store, it's instant attraction. Neither of them expected things to get this serious.

Chapter 6 Excerpt:

A blush paints Dream's face from his throat to his ears. When it's only his sibling making suggestive comments, they can easily be dismissed. When Hob says something similar, however, the idea lodges in Dream's mind like a splinter.

"Just a joke, my lord Morpheus," Hob says.

Through his relief (and also a mortifying touch of disappointment), Dream rolls his eyes. Hob has become much too enthusiastic about the stuffy moniker that Dream’s parents had bestowed.

“Would you prefer I call you Robert?” Dream asks, he hopes, flirtily.

“You can call me whatever you’d like, as long as you don’t stop calling me.”

#dreamling #dream x hob #dream of the endless #rockstar au #musician au #sandman fic #hob gadling

[wordsinhaled]

just read The Art of Seduction Via Longbow by @aria-lerendeair and am so totally normal about historical reenactor hob and need approximately 200% more of him in my life

like... we know hob hates renaissance faires with a passion in the comics because of the historical inaccuracy but

give me hob gadling deciding to work at the medieval festival because his friends got tired of him complaining about it and told him he should ~*~be the change he wants to see~*~ and hob is like, fuck it, why not

hob doing polearm and swordfighting and longbow demos and plugging his youtube channel (his reputation as the person who will soapbox about cultural exchange and the whitewashing of the middle ages with very little provocation starts to precede him)

give me hob becoming good friends with the pagan folk musicians and the blacksmithing expert and being super cute with little kids???

some little kid coming up to hob asking to hold his sword but obviously it’s Sharp, so hob grins at the parents and thrusts it into the ground. the little kid tries to pull it out and hob is like, oho, i see king arthur was no match for you! and everyone laughs. then hob disappears into the armory tent and comes out with a kid-friendly replica sword and gives it to the child and the parents try to pay for it but hob tells them on me, my friends, enjoy the rest of your day and winks at the kiddo

...in short everyone loves hob

now with dream this could go either way

because it’s either an AU where hob became immortal some other way and morpheus is a falconer who runs the birds of prey shows, and hob’s got a massive crush on him (spoilers the crush is mutual)

OR he’s just... dream of the endless dropping in to watch hob’s demos with matthew on his shoulder (potentially deliberately wearing historically-accurate clothing to fuck with people)... and he simply allows everyone to believe that of course, this slightly-intimidating black-clad man who goes everywhere accompanied by a massive raven with perfect recall is the new birds of prey person (spoilers hob still has a crush on him and the crush is still mutual)

anyway I NEED IT

#the sandman #hob gadling #dreamling

[cuubism]

Ooh, 80s Dreamling?

A human AU where I, extremely compelled by the visual contrast of 80s Dreamling, attempt to answer the question, "how the hell would these two people even meet" 😂 I'm so close to finishing this. Stockbroker Hob x Musician Dream

--

“What is it?” Hob asks, then decides he doesn’t care, and takes a pill, chasing it with the watery last drops of his drink, which is a terrible idea, but then, he’s full of them. “Ecstasy,” says Morpheus. Well, that’ll be some kind of fun, Hob thinks. Morpheus takes it back from him and takes a pill himself. “It occasionally makes me feel less like I am going to hurl myself from the balcony.” He doesn’t seem to be joking. “Good for something, then,” Hob says. “Why do you want to jump off the balcony?” He still has his hand in Morpheus’s hair. He honestly can’t believe he hasn’t propositioned him yet. That’s not like him. These parties are usually only good for quick, casual sex. He even thinks Morpheus would probably agree, and yet. “The state of things,” says Morpheus. He has such a deep, solemn voice. Hob wants to touch his mouth, or throat maybe. Okay, this is already not going so well. “And the state of my heart.” Hob pets his hair again. Morpheus leans into the touch. “Writing songs about yearning and angst and stuff isn’t fixing it?” He can well enough guess what Morpheus’s music is probably like. “No,” says Morpheus. He seems to really think about it. “I think it is making things worse. Perhaps I will try manipulating the financial markets instead. Is that giving you existential fulfillment?”

#80s dreamling #cw drugs #my writing #ask #tj-dragonblade #thank you! :)

[delta-pavonis]

Fic: Making the Cut

Dreamling (Hob Gadling/Dream of the Endless) || Rated T || 1k words || complete Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, modern dancing, jealous Dream is best Dream, gratuitous use of Renaissance instruments, might be crack?

Jealousy, for it could only be that, made every muscle in Dream’s Waking body tighten, to the point that he was glad he had the wherewithal to vanish his wineglass before it was crushed to dust in his hand. Lex said something and Hob threw his head back in laughter. As he did so her fingers tangled in the hair at Hob’s nape, pulling strands from his ponytail, and Dream was on his feet and moving forward before he could think better of it.

Because the GIFs in THIS POST have taken over my brain and I was not be able to get any work done until I silenced the voices. Be the Dreamling you want to see in the world.

Fic under the cut. Reblog and tag if you think I should continue. 😜

It took nigh on forty years, the establishment of a trust to fund the project, and an absurd amount of money (mostly paying lawyers), but Hob Gadling had won the rights to restore the White Horse Inn. 

Well, actually, according to the paperwork, Rudolf Gass, grandson of British ex-pat Robert Daglin through his marriage to a German painter named Rosemarie Krause, whose daughter married the glazier Albrecht Gass, now had the rights to restore the White Horse Inn. Dream hadn’t followed the details further than that. 

But, given that it was the White Horse, and all the sentimentality it held for them, Hob had been absolutely adamant that Dream should make an appearance at the party he was holding at the New Inn in celebration. 

And if Dream had been subtly nudging the dreams of some elected officials and government officers over the past seven years since his return from captivity, well, that could be a secret kept between him and the White Horse herself. That the paperwork went through on the 7th of June was merely a coincidence of cosmic proportions. 

Clearly.

Dream hid his private smirk behind a sip of red wine.

The New Inn was alive with revelers, many of them historians and academics, and Dream supposed he should have not been surprised at their propensity for theatrics. A musician with a deep knowledge of Renaissance musical instruments was currently rapidly plucking away at a cittern with the thumping bass of lyricless electronic music coming from the speaker behind him. Another had rushed out of the bar to her bicycle to head back to her office to grab her crumhorn. Hob seemed delighted and that was what mattered.

Other than the barstools, one of which Dream was perched on right now, any of the furniture that was not nailed down had been shoved aside to make a small dancefloor. Hob had barely spent more than a handful of minutes off of it since sundown. 

Said victorious professor tumbled out of the crowd and caught himself on the bar right in front of Dream. Panting, sweating, and glowing with happiness, he signaled the bartender for a pint and moved to retie his hair back from where it had fallen out of the tail at his nape. He canted his hip into the side of the bar to hold himself upright. Hob’s eyes were full of bright mischief as he looked to his longest-held friend and took a swig of ale. “My friend, are you sure I cannot entice you to-”

“Come on Rudi! This is our song!” A tall, slim woman with graying black hair bouncing around her shoulders in locs grabbed Hob’s arm and tugged him back into the fray just as a different song started blaring from the speakers. Her smile was wide and welcoming and she had a startling resemblance to Dream’s older sister, if much more lithe of form. She was sleek as an otter with a glint in her eye twice as clever. She dreamed of writing historical fiction and running long distances and cups of tea on the sun porch with her enormous fluffy orange tabby.

“We don’t have a song, Lex!” Hob just barely got the half-full pint back onto the bartop, laughing as he let himself be pulled away, looking apologetically over his shoulder at his friend left on the barstool. 

They didn’t enter the crowd fully, just joined the edge of the amoeba of humans, which meant that, for the first time that evening, Dream got to see all of Hob dancing instead of just his head and shoulders. 

The pair started with the choreographed moves of a courtly bassadanza, which did not work at all without a large group of others dancing with them, and so, with a trip and a laugh, Lex threw her arms over Hob’s shoulders and pulled their bodies together. It seemed reflex had Hob’s hands on her waist, put a slight bend in his knee, so that he could slide a knee between her thighs and then their pelvises were rocking close together.

Jealousy, for it could only be that, made every muscle in Dream’s Waking body tighten, to the point that he was glad he had the wherewithal to vanish his wineglass before it was crushed to dust in his hand. Lex said something and Hob threw his head back in laughter. As he did so her fingers tangled in the hair at Hob’s nape, pulling strands from his ponytail, and Dream was on his feet and moving forward before he could think better of it.

As he approached his coat dissolved into shadow, leaving him in a tight black t-shirt, tight black jeans, and black boots. Dream tapped Hob on the shoulder, but his gaze was fixed on the woman. “May I cut in?”

It was probably unfair to color his voice with Endless power, with seductive tones inviting complete acquiescence, but, as Hob would say in the current turn of phrase, Dream had no fucks left to give.

Both pairs of dark eyes widened, both turned to Dream as they stepped apart, but only Lex smiled. “Why certainly.” She made a motion to put a hand on Dream’s bicep, but with all the grace of ten billion years he sidestepped in front of her and looped his arms around Hob’s shoulders. 

Their bodies were inches from being flush and Hob’s mouth fell open. He looked down to the scant space between them, then back up. “Dream… what…” A blush was blooming on his cheeks.

“I find that I am loathe to see you with another pressed so close.” Dream spoke in his normal Waking tones, just loud enough for Hob to hear, and arched his hips forward to brush against Hob. The gasp it elicited was delicious nectar, sticky on Dream’s tongue. “It seems that you have indeed enticed me, Hob.” They were near enough that he got to see Hob’s pupils dilate, the rich, welcoming earth of his eyes all but consumed by inky blackness. 

Dream was often himself inky blackness.

He would consume the rest of Hob as well.

#Dreamling #Hob Gadling #Dream of the Endless #getting together #inspired by GIFs #Pavonis writes #Pavonis writes instead of working because she is possessed #The Sandman fanfic #The Sandman

[gabessquishytum]

Listen, just so you are aware, you've got me thinking prompts again, in a way I haven't in years. So thanks! 🥰

A Famous People Couple AU

Dream and Hob are both famous celebrities for their respective things (actor/musician; sports star/supermodel). They are top of the heap and at the beginning of their relationship they were an absolute heat score - falling out of clubs half dressed because they did each other in the VIP room; showing up to events sexily dressed and visibly loved up. Just so many paparazzi shots!

Well at this point in my prompt, they've been together and solid for a while, and they're no longer really making it a practice of falling out of clubs after making bad decisions together.

Problem is no one likes settled olds, or couples in "relationships" built on trust and love, they want drama and cheating scandals. So there is some effort to break them up (groupies let in to green rooms naked as temptation; Desire throwing his "friends" at one of them after saying the other is 'so borring'.

But they laugh it off and go home and love on each other in private - maybe reminiscing about when they were young and silly, but no less in love.

This is sooooo cute! So glad you're feeling the creative juices anon!!!!

I'm imagining Dream and Hob becoming like mentors for younger stars coming through. When those naked groupies come stumbling backstage Hob will go all dad on them and start gently lecturing them about their life choices. Of course he signs autographs as well. And gives out career advice. And Dream is very prim and proper these days and doesn't mind telling off journos if he sees them harassing his younger co-stars. Yes they're old and boring, but they do give loved up interviews to niche magazines, and they always show up at Pride events just randomly in the crowd.

Every other week Hob will peruse the tabloids and he'll be like "babe! Just so you know I'm cheating on you with your sister!" And Dream will be like "Yes dear 👍 ill be sure to let her know."

They love getting out their old Polaroid pics from their old party days. They'll laugh about it but honestly it makes them both kind of horny - because they're still together and in love and also because thinking about all the spicey stuff they used to do in public is really fucking hot. They've definitely got some private (naked) pictures that the press never got hold of. It's always fun to reenact those <33

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[illumi-nati-png]

The infamous Musician AU 🥰🖤 only some sketches tho

@deliriiuumm and I’s AU that idk how much she would want me to spoil but for context what would happen if indie rock star Dream meets Hob, frontman of the glam rock band Desire is also part of 👁

#the sandman #the sandman netflix #netflix the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling #desire of the endless #johanna constantine #the sandman au #if you guess which are the artsts and bands we got inspired of o win a kiss in the forehead #and f you guess the fourth band memeber a kiis on the ips #ok no im jk #unless #my art

[losingmymindrn]

You pull me in like the moon does the tide | coralbaird 1930s au

○~~~○~~~○

Her back ached. Terribly. Her work was endless, and she always came home smelling like fish and seaweed. She was pushed into a pile of fish today, actually. Dead fish. A rancid smell, if too overwhelming. Coral just wanted to get home. Tugging at her collar, Coral stepped off the docks, the wet wood creaking under her weight. Now, women weren't technically supposed to be doing work at the docks, that was a man's job, after all. But she had earned her place. By force. She was paid less then her colleagues, but it was enough for a...

'COME NOW, WITNESS THE AMAZING COVEY!'

The bright lights on the sign nearly blinded her. The covey? What was that? Curious, Coral stepped closer, hands shoved in her pockets. "Ay, you wanna see 'em?" A voice called from behind her. She jumped and faced it. In front of her, stood a young man, a bit older than her, with light blonde hair and electric blue eyes, much brighter than her pale ones.

"Ah... perhaps. Who are they?" She asked the man. He smiled and pointed at the sign, where a woman covered in a red dress and colorful feathers stood with a guitar, singing into the mic. "The covey's are musicians, that one's name is Lucy gray. She has the smoothest voice I've ever heard. She's the lead singer." He said. Coral only nodded in response. "Seems... lovely." She said after a moment. "Now, I would love to go, but I don't got much to my name right now." She said with a disappointed sigh. If she had the money, she might've taken her little brother to go see 'the Covey.'

The man smiled at her. "I'm friends with Lucy gray, I can get you in." He offered. Coral turned to him, bewildered. "Really? Ya don't even know me!" She exclaimed. The man only laughed. "So? Everyone should be blessed with hearing her voice." Huh. Well, it would be rude to turn down such an offer... "Well. Alright." She agreed. He smiled at her. "Great, meet me at the Hob tonight, 6:50. And my name is Coriolanus, by the way." And with that, he was gone. Coral turned back to the sign. Well. Here's to a fun night tonight.

○~~~○~~~○

Like promised, Coral met Coriolanus outside the Hob. Her little brother, Mizzen, had wanted to go, but apparently he wore himself out at school today, making him damn near collapse on the floor. Coriolanus greeted her, a man right by his side. "Coral, glad you can make it. This is Sejanus, my friend." By the way Sejanus was looking at Coriolanus, it didn't seem like they were 'just friends.' Coral nodded at him politely. "Let's head in, we want good seating." The blonde ushered them in, paying for entrance, and practically dragging her into the hob.

They did find good seat, right up front. "It starts at 7, so do you want anything while we wait?" Sejanus asked from his spot next to Coriolanus. "Nah, I'm good." She declined, focusing on the stage. Coriolanus had ordered drinks for them, because even though she declined wanting anything, she couldn't help but get a good ol' Blood and Sand. Soon enough, the spot lights were on, focusing on the stage, and out came the covey. She watched as they came forward, each holding their instruments close. But she was encapsulated by the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.

Lucy gray.

She had red feathers stuck in her curly dark hair. Carnelian eyeshadow brought out her brown eyes, one too many layers of ruby lipstick on her full lips. And a matching red dress clung to her body, making it impossible to look away. Cheers and hoots and hollers rose up from the crowd, but she was to slacken jaw to join. "Hm, red theme tonight." Coriolanus mused.

"Why, hiya y'all!" Lucy Gray grinned at the crowd, a brighter than the sun grin. She got cheers back from the crowd. "Oh I know, I know! It's been a little since I've been up here, huh?" Cheers again. Lucy gray giggles, and Coral could swear it was the most beautiful sound, more so than the calming waves. "Well don't cha worry, I've got many songs to make up for it!" More cheers.

Lucy Gray starts her song, and gods Coriolanus was right. She has the smoothest, loveliest voice known to man. She was memorized. But that's when Lucy Gray looks her in the eyes. Time stops.

The waves crashing outside the hob, gone. The cheers and screams inside, none existent. It was just them. Those brown doe eyes make her legs feel like jelly, and she was grateful for sitting down. She was in a trance. And it seemed as if Lucy gray was in one too. She skipped a line, letting the crowd finish it. But much too soon, Lucy Gray pulled her gaze away from her, back to the crowd. And oh...

Coral thinks she just fell in love.

#tbosas #lucy gray baird #lucy gray my beloved #the hunger games #Coralbaird #coriolanus snow #Coral x Lucy gray #1930s au #sejanus plinth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #Lesbian #the covey #mizzen tbosas

[lenreli]

Day 9 - Musician [Human AU]

[AO3]

“We’re on soon,” Dream breathes, yet doesn’t move away as Hob nibbles at his neck ― the bits of it that aren’t covered by the black choker anyway. Dream, in fact, whines, leaning into Hob’s hands as they go under the other’s black leather tank top. “You’ll wreck your makeup,” Dream tries instead, tugging at his hair, and Hob can feel Dream’s pulse skip against his mouth as he looks up, raising an eyebrow. 

“Live a little. Like they don’t know anyway,” he says, biting up to the dangling red earring in Dream’s ear as they ground against each other, the noise of chaos outside the dressing room dimming under the delicious sounds of Dream’s gasping breath and moans, the adrenaline buzz of going out to a screaming, wanting crowd, as well as the arousal of having Dream so close better than any drug. 

Dream groans, glossy pink lips pressing into his as Dream grabs onto his black jeans, “don’t ruin my voice,” his partner says.

“Of course not. That’s for after,” he promises, feeling Dream shiver against him as Hob’s hand goes into Dream’s skinny leather pants, somehow holding his arousal inside ― and Dream shivers, pale hands scrambling over Hob’s body before one ends up in Hob’s own pants, gripping his cock roughly as they fall into stroking each other. “Fuck, one of these days you really have to wear something that’s not fucking painted on.” 

Dream laughs, loud and unsettling as lined lashes flutter against his cheek, “but Hob, I always get to see such nice pictures of you staring at my arse during the night.” 

Hob rolls his eyes and brings Dream into a messy kiss, arousal fizzling as they whine and pant ― and suddenly, there’s rough knocking on the door, which they ignore as they bite at each other, orgasm rolling over them in waves. 

“SERIOUSLY?! YOU HAVE SOUND CHECK RIGHT NOW GET THE FUCK OUT HERE! AND BE PRESENTABLE!” Mervyn barks from beyond the door, which sets them off into laughter. 

“We do this every time, you think he’d be used to it by now,” Hob remarks, pulling away as they laugh, getting the tissue box from Dream’s dressing table as they clean themselves up.

#dc #the sandman #dreamling #dreamling fanfic #dreamling smeptember #smeptember 2023 #dream x hob #hob x dream #hob x morpheus #writing #not sfw #in my brain hob plays bass #but anyways fghfghg

[valeriianz]

Reason in the Noise | Dream x Hob | 3k | T | In-progress

CW: band au, musician Dream, touring, pining, fluff, slice of life, non-linear, adjusting to fame

He was never sure exactly how to react to the swarm of affection and loyalty from listeners; strangers. It was a lot… a lot more than Morpheus had ever anticipated. It was almost… terrifying. 

And it was all happening so fast. With every passing day, ticket sales for the tour went up. Their debut album was frighteningly close to a gold certification by the RIAA (about 100,000 more units, according to Johanna), and– although Morpheus himself had no online presence, he lived vicariously through his bandmates– they’d somehow accrued a million followers on Endless’ official Twitter page.

Morpheus didn’t want to complain, or offer up excuses, but he was trying. He was trying to be Dream, this member of a band that didn’t belong just to Leta and him anymore. Endless was shared not just with Mona, Dessi, and Del anymore. It had become co-opted with thousands of people; over a million, apparently. It didn’t feel real. 

And one of the only people, who hadn’t treated him any differently because of all this, had agreed to come along on the tour as Dream’s guitar tech.

[Ao3]

#dreamling #hob x dream #the sandman #rockband au #set in the verse of Bolt in the Blue #could also work as a standalone... read AN for more info #bolt in the blue vibes #Dream POV

[deliriiuumm]

have some backstory crumbs + pining from my dreamling musician au

Hob has been a great (secret) admirer of Dream since his punk rock days with his sisters, Death and Delirium. Their band, Sunless Delights, was once the biggest, most beloved punk rock band in Europe until the huge controversy that involved Dream tore them apart. 

Dream disappeared from the public eye and reemerged three years later as an indie rock soloist. In his absence, he tried to piece his life back together and rediscovered his passion for music, composing songs that he dug out of his core, which resonated with hundreds and thousands of people around the world. Seeing his well-received comeback, Dream realised there were things still worth holding onto— if not life itself, then music and the people who loved it. 

A sudden gust sweeps through the alleyway, making Hob shiver and wrap his arms around himself. How he wishes Dream is there to enfold his arms around him. He reminds himself that in three days, he won’t have to talk to Dream on his phone screen anymore. He’ll be able to touch and hold him, bury his nose on the slope of his neck and breathe in the smell of fresh lavender and forest mist that he loves. Run his fingers through his dark and silky hair, his soft skin, and even that cursed Shakespeare quote tattoo on his side rib. 

He can’t wait to gaze into those deep blue eyes that he so easily gets lost in. To plant soft and reverent kisses along the veins on his hands and the long and thin scar across his right cheek and the faint, old cuff marks on his wrists. To wrap his arms around his slim waist and press his body between Dream’s parted legs and— 

The backdoor creaks open and dispels his daydreams like a flock of birds.

#dream may be a nepo baby in this au but that didn't make him immune from the pain and misery life had in store for him poor sod #the sandman #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #dreamling musician au #musician au #dreamling fic #dreamling fics

[landwriter]

oh menacing writer of the land, I bow to thee. forgive me for my intrusion, for I come to you with great reverence. might I be granted with the holy scripture of the musician!dream x professor hob au? I bring an offering of information on touring, musician life + music industry insight, should you so graciously answer my prayers 🙏

a handsome gift! the least I can offer is more twitter beef au!! most of this was written right in my tumblr drafts when I was still labouring under the delusion that was I was doing could be called "describe the fic you would write" - hob learns about The Diss Track. in his introduction to english lit class:

On Thursday morning, Hob is walking to his lecture, wearing his one sweatervest, because he can, thank you very much. Morpheus hadn't posted in over a day, and he supposes that's just the speed of the internet, and their little battle of wits is over. When he gets into the hall and sets his bag down, every single one of his students looks up at once. And several young people who - who are not even his students, he thinks.

"Right, hello class. Good to see you all here and keen on our last lecture before winter break. And welcome to the new faces as well. I can only assume you're here because of your interest in Marlowe."

"Oh my god," someone says at the back, loud enough for Hob to hear. "He's wearing the vest." He firmly reminds himself this is exactly what he wanted.

Amanda, who sits at the front and always does the readings, raises her hand. Hob calls on her in relief.

"Uh. Professor. We love Marlowe. But haven't you seen it yet?"

Hob had forgotten to silence his phone and it's started buzzing. He ignores it.

"Seen what," he says, very levelly. Smiling firmly. Not at all panicking. Ignoring his students' exchanged glances.

"The song."

"It's a diss track," says another student.

"Sorry, yeah, the diss track."

The entire lecture hall is faintly vibrating with anticipation.

"Is there swearing?" he asks, "I mean, more than I do in class. Anything particularly offensive?"

"No, professor," she says, understanding immediately.

"Well, I suspect I'll find it pretty quickly if I check my phone just now, and that only half of you are here for Marlowe anyways, so let's just put it on, shall we?"

Some kids actually cheer. "Enough of that," he says, "We're going to have a rigorous academic discussion about it afterwards." Then, because he cannot and will not help himself, he adds, "Presuming, of course, there is sufficient subject matter to engage with."

He pulls out his phone and fails utterly to hide his grin at the chorus of ooohs. Someone in the back actually shouts, "Get him, professor!"

Sure enough, the same video has been sent to him half a dozen times. He pulls it up, gets it displayed on the lecture hall's screen, and presses play.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s see what all this fuss is all about.”

He has enough professional goodwill from years of teaching to do this kind of stupid thing, and it's nice to cash it in, sometimes. He likes to be the cool professor when he can. Even in a sweatervest.

He leans back against the lectern to watch. It's not Morpheus on screen, but a woman that Hob distantly recognizes. She's gorgeous, and apparently, given the rapturous whispers behind him, also at least a little famous. She's surrounded by takeaway containers, fiddling with her phone until music starts playing. "Good job, baby brother." She takes a sip of her beer and then wipes her mouth, and grins brightly right at the camera. "This one's for you, prof," she says, laughing.

Afterwards, the entire lecture hall is silent. Hob is silent.

"Holy shit," says a student, and Hob turns around, face burning. "She murdered you."

Hob gathers himself. He feels a little dizzy. It might low blood sugar. Or love.

"Indeed. Right. Well. Certainly a lot to unpack there." His hands are a little sweaty. It's definitely love. "This isn’t a classics class, but I know some of you are classics students and would be happy to educate us, so let’s start with that parallel made right at the start between the Lotophagi - that’s the lotus-eaters from The Odyssey - and the concept of academia as an ivory tower. Who wants to talk about that?"

Five different hands shoot up. "Wow. Okay, okay," he laughs. "Tristan, start us off."

In the next 80 minutes, he hardly gets a word in edgewise. He is, absolutely gloriously, playing discussion moderator instead of lecturer. Hob knows, feels it in his gut even now, that he will look back on this as one of the best classes he’s ever held. Students are twisting around in their chairs to engage with each other.

It is, he thinks, absolutely worth a bit of murdering.

#asks #the sandman #dreamling #wip filename ask meme #twitter beef au #wip excerpts #my writing

[virgo-dream]

9 and/or 17 for the ask game!

Hi Seiya!!! 💖 I’m not going to answer 9 in this post because I honestly have memory issues and I don’t currently remember something I wrote that I’m particularly proud of right now :(

17. Are there any writers and/or stories that you consider an influence?

Uuuuuuuh I think I’ve said this to them a billion times but I’m definitely tagging them here too!

@avelera is fully the reason why I’m on tumblr for Dreamling and even writing fic! I love the way she develops her plots, the impeccable grasp she has on the minds of the characters, and just how well she does writing stories in different genres. Also, Maggie has the ability to not coddle the characters and show their ugly sides too, which is something I admire a lot.

@softest-punk has to hear me scream whenever they post anything because soft has the gentlest, kindest and most hopeful writing I’ve ever seen. Everything is imbued with an inner light and just fiercely loving. Soft, like Maggie, also has incredible grasp of the technical part of writing (which is the reason why I’ve bothered both of them for writing advice).

@landwriter is an absolute master of themes and language. Just unhinged levels of drenching a story in symbolism even in the smallest little details. Also, the way Gloam does research is insane. I wish I had the same level of brain power to do research for work that Gloam does for fics.

@moorishflower’s writing is wild, vivid, unapologetic, experimental… moorish is just out here writing about themes and in ways that I’ve never allowed myself to even consider trying. Another master of language, like Gloam, and constantly pushing the boundaries.

@chiron-crow just goes there with his fics. He’s exploring pain, darkness, honesty and healing in an incredibly raw way that I think even scares him sometimes. I love how Chi organises his writing, how methodical he is in his process and how deeply he cares for the themes he chooses to tackle (Also his poetry fucking slaps ok?)

@valeriianz’s Bolt In The Blue has such a strong grip on my heart that I actually wrote fic for Kris’ fic lol. It’s a true slow burn, which I enjoy reading but am terrible at executing in my own writing. I love how Kris is able to take something that is not a common experience (being a touring musician) and stripping it down to the bare bones of it, the points of connection where everyone can identify with the characters.

@beatnikfreakiswriting’s “would you let me know” is one of the most delightful fics I’ve had the pleasure of stumbling upon. The exploration of Dream and Hob’s relationship, how Dream slowly opens up, all while dealing with the academic environment as a backdrop. I’ve steered away from academic AUs because I have deep academic trauma, so this fic made me feel seen and I was happy to have given it a chance. I just remember being happy reading it.

MonstruousRegiment is not on tumblr as far as I’m aware, but both The Uses of Adversity and The Stars Move Still are in my kindle fic bible for continuous reading because damn, those fics are good. There are so many original characters that just feel native to the universe they’re exploring. Their take on the “Hob saves Dream from the fishbowl” trope is one of my favourites to date. In the second instalment of the series, they manage to do yet another incredible canon divergence take. I’d read a thousand of those, just exploring how things could be different at different points of the story.

#ask game #Seiya-starsniper #thank you for sending this! #it just became a shout-out post for my fav writers lol

[shrekgogurt]

On this father’s day it is only fitting I post an excerpt from the Dave Matthews Band AU I thought of (also because it’s the only new material I’ve written recently).

Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch is a serious musician with a serious musician’s job. He always saw such a future for himself which is why when Penelope Bunce came knocking their junior year at Oberlin begging him to join her combo with some random townie strays, he politely declined.

She offered the gig to Trixie Hob next…and Bunce hated Trixie. At least, that’s what he thought at the time.

He can’t imagine them having much animosity anymore. Well, not with the mountains of money they’ve been making in the godforsaken Gareth Surname Band.

Really, it’s me finally writing a drummer!Simon AU because it’s what we all collectively deserve. (Will I ever finish it? Probably not.) AND speaking of music, I posted a cover yesterday if you missed it! Okay, that is all! (tags and a little teaser of what to imagine Simon on drums would be like below the cut!)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KOatIrazULw

@artsyunderstudy @brilla-brilla-estrellita @cutestkilla @confused-bi-queer @ebbpettier @excalisbury @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hushed-chorus @ileadacharmedlife @imagineacoolusername @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists @larkral @martsonmars @onepintobean @palimpsessed @raenestee @sosoapi @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @theearlgreymage @umdiasujo @yellobb-old

[teejaystumbles]

Your Love Is Sunlight

A Guild Wars 2 Dreamling fanfiction

(I wrote the Guild Wars AU I desperately wanted because I think Dream is absolutely made to be Sylvari - born from the Dream, connected to his race via their shared subconscious - it just screamed Dream to me and therefore I made two new characters in GW2 and wrote them a tiny story LOL. This is spoiler-free for Guild Wars, I tried to keep it in the early personal story and not mention major things. You don't need to know anything about Guild Wars to enjoy this, a lot of Sylvari things are actually mentioned and explained in this, anything else is not really important.)

It's a simple escort job through the Gendaran Fields to Lion's Arch but the caravan is big and a few adventurers have been hired as guards. Dream would normally not waste time with something like this, but he is expected in Lion's Arch and therefore joining the caravan is no hassle. He would be faster alone, but something about the colourful wagons and the cheerful atmosphere draws him in and he decides to tag along. The caravan is made up of a troupe of entertainers, actors and musicians, dancers and jugglers. Dream watches them laugh and tease each other with fascination. They are a mixed group, Human, Asura, Norn and even Charr, and despite their different races they seem to be getting along well. There are no Sylvari among the group and Dream is both relieved and disappointed. He had hoped to ask a sibling after their experience with these people, had hoped for new stories. But he doubts his questions would have been welcome. He looks like a member of the Nightmare Court, after all.

The group is setting up a camp for the night when Dream, lost in thought, trips over a root and stumbles into the back of a nearby human. The huge dog at the man's side immediately growls at him and Dream stumbles back as the ranger turns.

"I apologise…" Dream says and keeps a careful eye on the dog, but it goes quiet after only a click of the tongue of its master.

The man, who has a bow and sword strapped to his back, stares at Dream with a wide grin and bright eyes and eagerly takes Dream's hands into his own. "No matter! It is an honour to meet a child of the Pale Tree! Well met, friend!"

Continue reading on AO3 or below the cut!

Dream pulls his hands free and takes a hasty step back. The human's dog sniffs at his leg and he shifts uneasily. 

"Friend…?" Memories of dreams of so-called friends betraying each other fill his mind. 

Smiles and supper shared. Then stabbing him into the back when he turns.

He frowns and shakes his head to disperse them, forcing himself to speak. 

"I don't know you. We are not friends. Trust. Has to be earned."

The human stops smiling and looks at him with an almost pained expression. He brushes his shoulder-length dark hair out of his face and tugs on his earlobe. "You are right. Forgive my haste. My name is Hob Gadling. Just Hob is fine. It's a pleasure to meet you…?"

"...Dream."

The bright smile is back in an instant. "What a wonderful name! Dream. Beautiful, just like you!"

Dream feels himself glow and shrink in on himself, his petals shivering. There is no heart in his body but he feels a heat inside his chest that makes him feel like there should be. No one has called him beautiful before. He is too pale, too dark, too broken by nightmares. His sisters and brothers shy away from him, sensing the turmoil of his dreams, the negative emotions that shaped him. If this human knew him like they know him, would he still smile at Dream in such a way?

He does not dare find out and quickly turns away, leaving the human standing with a hastily mumbled apology. He flees to the far side of the camp and lays out his bedroll. The human had looked taken aback but had not followed him. Dream is - again - both relieved and disappointed at that. He lies down and closes his eyes, willing himself to rest and sleep.

~

He wakes from nightmares in the middle of the night, as usual, and silently slips out of the camp towards the nearby river to watch the moon and the glowing insects until the sun rises and the first people begin to stir.

The next day is uneventful. Except for a few huge glowflies attacking them when they pass through a swampy area, nothing happens that the hired adventurers can’t handle. Dream watches the human from last night  - Hob Gadling - masterfully use both bow and sword to swiftly deal with any aggressive wildlife. Their eyes meet a few times and Hob gives him a friendly smile every time. When they make camp for the night again Dream finds himself close to the man again but feels at a loss for words. Fortunately, Hob does not seem to have any qualms to initiate another conversation.

"Have you been to Lion's Arch before, Dream?"

Dream looks up from inspecting his daggers and sees that the human is busying himself with his pack and quiver, and giving his dog a few strips of dried meat. Dream watches him scratch the dog and coo at it quietly before he finds his voice.

"Yes."

Hob looks back at him. "And how did you find it? I think it's too big for me. I got lost the first few times. Ended up in a cave with a dead pirate playing hide and seek, I almost died - stupid old bastard." He laughs loudly and Dream can only stare in fascination. This human is so. Happy. While telling of a life-threatening situation. It is. Confusing. And fascinating.

Hob has set down his weapons and pack and sits on a log, watching Dream with clear, amber eyes. His smile shows no sign of diminishing.

"Won't you sit with me, Dream? I've always wanted to ask a Sylvari about those dogs some of you are keeping as companions."

Dream slowly and carefully perches on the other end of the log and says: "You mean Sylvan Hounds?"

"Yes! Those!" Hob pats his dog happily and looks at Dream full of anticipation, his eyes bright and friendly. The man seems genuinely nice. Dream will stay alert but simply talking to this human…is probably not that dangerous.

Gaining someone’s trust is the first step to a successful betrayal , a well-known voice in his mind whispers. Dream has always had the suspicion that it is the voice of Cadeyrn, taunting him from the Nightmare…

"They are born just like we are. From the Pale Tree, but they're not…sapient, like us."

"They're like dogs." Hob grins and pat's his hound again. Dream nods. "Yes."

"But they're plants."

"All Sylvari are plants."

"I know, it's fascinating, isn't it? And to imagine that the eldest of you are only, what, about 30 years old?" Hob laughs and shakes his head in wonder. Dream frowns. He does not like that his race is often compared to children. Sylvari have much to learn, that is true, but they are not simple . They are simply new to this world, their history short.

"Is it true that no one knows how old you can actually get?"

Dream lifts his eyes from the forest floor and stares at Hob in bafflement. He can't help a sneer and shifts subtly away from the human.

"It is. Why does that ‘ fascinate’ you? Because we are so young to have so far never died of natural causes? Because this world kills us rather than let us live our life to the fullest?"

Dream feels himself shivering with fury. He doesn't know why he is angry. Hob's question was innocuous enough, something anyone might ask a Sylvari. Death as such is not something the Sylvari view as a terrible fate, they find it interesting and do not share the same fear of it as the other races. His elder sister is constantly researching the topic. Yet Dream feels only rage at the reminder of how many of his siblings have died for Tyria, for the fight against the Elder Dragons. He thinks of his closest siblings, born with him and shortly after him. Destiny, as close to their mother as only the Firstborn are, rarely emerging from her grove. Death, named after what fascinates her most, always wandering, never in one place for long. Despair, dead. Desire, her twin, lost to the Nightmare Court. Delirium, who sleeps and stays inside the Dream rather than face the real world. Destruction, who chose to become soundless. Himself, always courted by the Nightmare, constantly fighting against his dark side.

He thinks of them and feels sadness, and rage. How dare the other races judge them? How dare this human ask him how old a Sylvari can get, when from the moment they are born they have to struggle for survival, for sanity, for recognition as sentient beings, for the simple right to exist?

They will never treat us as anything but expendable curiosities. We have to show them what we are capable of , Cadeyrn whispers in his mind. Dream drops his head into his hands and pulls at his sapphire blue leaves. 

Shut up! Get out of my head!

Hob beside him grows tense and leans forward. When a gentle hand lands on his shoulder, Dream flinches violently and looks up with wide eyes. Hob lets go immediately when he sees his face.

"Hey," the man says, his voice quiet and careful, "are you alright? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pried. It's just," he shakes his head and pulls again at his earlobe, "I've always wanted to meet one of your kind and you looked lonely. And I thought you'd like someone to talk to."

Dream stares at him, momentarily lost for words, anger still rolling inside him. Then he jumps up from the log and snarls: “Lonely?! I am connected to the subconscious of my entire race and our mother. I am never alone . You dare make assumptions when you know nothing of my kin and I.”

He grabs his pack and stalks away, ignoring Hob’s soft plea to wait.

~

That night he dreams again of Despair’s death, of Desire’s subsequent descent into madness. How he begged them to stay, how they still turned from him and joined the Nightmare Court. How when he last met them, they had wrapped him in thorny vines and cooed at him to join them, licking the sap running from his throat where the thorns made him bleed.

‘Just let go, sweet Dream. Embrace your deeper urges, your violent tendencies, your love of the night. Come with me, brother. It will finally make you happy…’

Dream surges awake with a gasp and a cry, startling a nearby Asura, who looks at him first with worry, then with typical scientific curiosity. He makes haste to grab his bedroll and pack and leave their vicinity, before he becomes the subject of an Asuran study into Sylvari dreams. He finds himself drifting closer to Hob again during the day. When night falls they make camp for the last time on their journey. They will reach Lion’s Arch tomorrow and Dream will have to meet with Caithe and the other heroes of old to discuss the ongoing threat to Tyria. He might not see any of these people again, and it is that thought that lets him stay when he sees Hob coming towards him and gingerly set down his pack beside him.

Dream is no longer angry. He knows Hob is right in his assessment that Dream is lonely, despite anything he said last night. His connection to other Sylvari through the Dream is tenuous and constantly strained by nightmares, which others can sense when they meet him. He has thought about becoming soundless, like his brother Destruction, but has shied away from taking such a radical step to remove himself from the Dream. He cherishes the sense of love he gets from their mother, even if it is faint. He doesn’t think he could bear to lose it.

Hob approaches him cautiously and sits down on a tree root. He says: “I apologise for yesterday, Dream. I did not mean to offend.”

He smiles gently. "We’ll soon reach Lion’s Arch, and honestly, I could use the company, because…I realised that it is actually me who’s lonely,” he chuckles and tugs again at his earlobe.  Dream’s eyes widen at the man’s words, said softly and with a hint of sadness, but ringing true. 

“How about you ask me questions? I'd love to tell you anything you might want to know."

Dream licks his lips and blinks a few times to clear his mind. Hob's smile is making that warm place in his chest feel tender and mellow again. This human is truly...

"Weird."

"Huh?"

"You are the weirdest human I have ever met." Dream says, his voice rough. His throat is as dry as old bark. Hob laughs. "You're not the first to say that! Although I really don't understand why being friendly gets you called weird in this world."

He grows solemn, the corners of his mouth turning down. "Makes you think, doesn't it?" he muses and looks down at his dog, which is happily lying beside him, head on Hob's feet. Dream watches him closely, intrigued, and takes in more details. Hob is not particularly tall or particularly broad for a human, but he is still a lot broader than Dream. The muscles of his arms and legs are well defined by his shirt and leather trousers. This man is a fighter, his fingers callused by arrows and sword, the backs of his hands littered with scars, but his face is gentle and his whole demeanour one of kindness. Dream catalogues his colours the only way Sylvari can - by comparing them to plants. Hob's hair is as dark as ebony, his skin the colour of an unpeeled almond, and his eyes are like dark apricot tree sap. He has a strong nose and a chin with a cleft and the shadow of a beard that Dream finds fascinating. Hob is handsome, for a human.

"It seems you like animals better than your fellow men." Dream states rather than asks and Hob looks back up at him quickly and gives a small chuckle.

"Well, you're not wrong. I mean, I like people, I do, but animals - they're just easier, you know? A dog will not mind if you love it too much. It will give you its life and loyalty and love and never question yours if you treat it right."

Dream cocks his head and frowns. "Do humans not...like to be loved?" *By you*, he does not say but wonders as he watches Hob pet his dog. Anyone this man loves must be the luckiest person in the world, he thinks and is glad that his skin does not blush and the encroaching darkness of the night makes his stronger glow seem like a natural occurrence. Hob absently scratches his chin and huffs a laugh. "Of course they do. I'm just... too much, it seems. For some." He clears his throat and then adds with a grin: "So please, ask away. I will annoy you long before you can annoy me."

Dream frowns again. "You... are not annoying. You are curious, but kind. I find myself grateful... for your company. Hob." 

The smile Hob levels at him is nearly blinding and Dream feels himself glow even brighter. Hob's eyes twinkle and his delight is plain on his face. "You're glowing! Is that because it's getting dark? Do you only glow at night or also when it's bright? Do you all glow in different colours?"

Dream can't help but duck his head shyly and mumble: "It's...I..."

Hob sharply sucks in a breath and lifts his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Sorry, sorry, here I go again, asking about personal things. You don't have to answer that. I just," he falters and rubs his neck again, a blush rising on his cheeks. "It looks...very beautiful."

Dream feels his glow brighten even more and this time he can see that Hob has caught it. He leans closer and looks at Dream more closely. “It got stronger. Are you…are you blushing ? Is it like a human blush, when your glow-”

“Yes!” Dream blurts out and grips the bark of the root he’s sitting on tightly, his posture growing more and more rigid. Hob stares at him with his mouth open and his eyes wide in wonder. Then he smiles again and Dream knows if he wasn’t wrapped in a cloak he would be lighting up their small corner of the camp like a torch.

“Please stop,” he begs and wraps his arms around himself, “calling me beautiful.”

Hob scoots closer to him and waits until Dream meets his eyes again.

“Why?” he asks softly, “It’s the truth. You are gorgeous, Dream. Has no one ever told you that?”

Dream feels himself start to shiver. “No,” he whispers, “I am. Not used to compliments.” He is used to frightened glances, to suspicious glares, to whispers behind his back. ’He feels off.’ ‘His eyes are like tar pits.’ ‘He’s going to join the Nightmare Court, I’m sure of it.’ ‘Look at that one, are you sure he’s no courtier? Let’s better not get too close.’

Hob puts a hand on Dream’s shaking shoulder and this time Dream doesn’t flinch away. The touch grounds him and he feels himself lean into it. Hob’s hand is warm where it touches him and suddenly Dream craves warmth. He does not need sunlight and prefers the nighttime, having been born of the Cycle of Night, but he does not enjoy being cold. Hob’s touch makes him feel like he has only ever been cold. He can’t remember when someone last touched him with kindness either.

Hob must sense how Dream relaxes because after only a moment he gently coaxes him to lean more firmly against Hob’s shoulder. Dream wants to melt into his arms and feels instantly ashamed of his reaction.

You don’t know anything about this man. Humans are violent creatures of the flesh, always hungry, don’t mistake their intentions.

Dream would give an arm and a leg if it meant being rid of that voice inside his head. He closes his eyes and whispers: “You see me like no one before has. Sometimes I think too many nightmares made their way into my being…that I am tainted beyond help. Does not my appearance prove it? There is no light in my eyes, like in those lost to the Nightmare Court…and my siblings fear me.” The words spill forth almost without his consent.

Hob hums and wraps his arm tighter around Dream’s shoulders. “Well, for what it’s worth, I think they are fools. It is clear to me that you are not evil, Dream, and I find you more than beautiful. Your eyes are like the rarest black pearls,” 

Dream feels a gentle touch on his cheek and opens his eyes to stare into Hob’s warm amber ones, 

“and you’re the most magical thing I have ever seen,” Hob murmurs softly and brushes his fingertips reverently under Dream’s eyes. Dream inhales deeply and feels his gaze drawn to Hob’s mouth. Hob notices and quirks his lips but doesn’t say anything. Dream swallows and decides to take a leap of faith.

“Earlier…I wondered. How anyone could find you…too much. I thought…I would be so lucky. To be loved by someone like you.”

Hob’s nostrils flare and his eyes widen a bit before another one of his brilliant smiles lights up his face. He leans closer and says, lips almost touching Dream’s: “You’re in luck, then. You should know…I fall in love ridiculously easily. And I can tell that loving you,” Dream feels Hob’s breath on his lips and lets his eyes drop closed again, “will be no hardship at all. My Dream.”

Their lips meet and Dream sighs happily into the kiss, feeling Hob’s warmth radiate from his mouth and hands on his shoulders. Hob pulls back after only a moment but strokes Dream’s cheeks gently and gives him another smile that makes Dream feel like the sun has risen again. Still, he cannot help but give voice to his insecurities:

“Please. Hob. Be honest. Do you…fall out of love just as easily?”

Hob lets out a startled laugh and brushes a sapphire leaf out of Dream’s face. “Didn’t I tell you? I usually am told that I’m too much. Once I latch onto someone, it’s hard to get rid of me.”

He brushes his mouth against Dream’s glowing cheek and adds, more softly: “I’m like a dog, Dream. Treat me kindly and let me love you…and I will stay with you forever.”

Dream gasps and turns his face towards Hob’s. His hands come up to touch his cleft chin in awe and feel his stubble, trace the contours of his face and feel the silky texture of his hair. “You are a wonder, Hob Gadling.”

Hob blushes and laughs again and leans in to kiss him again, something Dream is only too happy to grant. He pulls Hob closer and down onto the mossy forest floor, so he can finally have Hob’s warm body cover his lengthwise. They trade kisses and gentle touches, marvelling at the other in the glow of Dream’s bioluminescence. After a while Hob suddenly hums in thought and a tiny frown appears on his forehead as he seems to contemplate something.

"Dreams and nightmares…I’ve heard your mother only puts special memories into the Dream, right? Significant ones?"

Dream nods and shuffles closer into Hob’s embrace.

"Ones with impact, that create significant feelings, good or bad, have a higher chance to resonate with her, and thus within the Dream, yes."

Hob grins and caresses Dream’s back and sides with his broad palms. Dream relishes the heat coming off his hands and body and sighs again happily. He wants to feel them against his skin, but there will be time for that later, he hopes. 

Hob says: "Let me give you a memory to stick, then. Let me give you a thousand . Your mother shall know my love for you and feel proud. I want her to know the depth of my gratitude for having given life to you, my Dream."

Dream pulls back to properly look into Hob’s face. He feels himself smile in what feels like the first time since his sister died.

"Very well. May my memories of you shine so brightly that they vanquish a thousand nightmares the Court has created, Hob Gadling. May your radiant smile live in the Dream as eternal inspiration and delight for our mother and all unborn Sylvari."

#I indulged myself with this and wrote more than half of it last night as a reward for finishing the big bang art #dreamling #dream x hob #guild wars 2 au #the sandman fanfiction #teejay writes #own writing