#HoB fanfiction

[fallloverfic]

Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandom: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Relationships: Feng Xin & Mu Qing & Xie Lian, Hua Cheng/Xie Lian

Tags: Post-canon, angst with a happy ending, friendship, grief/mourning, anxiety, self-hatred, boys kissing, cuddling & snuggling, POV Xie Lian, Xianle Trio, more tags on Ao3

Summary: While touring Feng Xin and Mu Qing's reconstructed palaces, Feng Xin asks about what happened to Xie Lian's parents. Xie Lian doesn't want to talk about it, but his loved ones won't let him keep running from his own pain.

Compassion (4,551 words, complete)

[disc0bandit]

Hob's normal friends accidentally discovering his immortality and the subsequent awkward and inefficient explanations in fanfiction is something that can be so personal

[redrosetoberead]

Summary:

Hua Cheng is in for a treat!! Disaster chef Xie Lian cooks up an exciting evening of delights for the senses...Ruoye helps...

“San Lang,” he whispers, breath gently tickling Hua Cheng’s neck. “Can…can I cover your eyes with this?” and he touches the silky fabric to Hua Cheng’s skin, snaking it along the length of his exposed neck, wrists, and finally hands. The docile fabric of Ruoye softly nuzzles against his hands, as if to pose the question again. A rush of heat flushes his body, and a soft smirk weaves its way across his lazy face.

[redrosereads]

Summary:

after a quick trip in the grocery store near his apartment complex, mu qing senses someone following him— or rather, he hears rushed footsteps approach him from behind.

what mu qing didn’t expect is a toddler to call for him.

[desireblody]

Death and Hob

¡San Valentín!

Hob : —Feliz San Valentín Death. Gadling extiende una caja de chocolates frente a muerte

Death: ¡Feliz San Valentín para ti también Hob! .Death: Happy Valentine's to you too Hob! .

Death extiende un par de latas de cerveza

Una lágrima a escapado de los ojos de Hob.

Hob: —Happy Valentine's Day Death. Gadling extends a box of chocolates in front of death

Death: Happy Valentine's to you too Hob!

Death spreads out a couple beer cans

Hob A tear escaped from Hob's eyes

I do it now since I don't know if I'm still alive on Valentine's Day

[dinlukeandothers]

The best fanfictions i ever read! slow burn by arahir - hob gadling / dream of the endles [ the sandman ]

who wants to live forever? by ranchdiip - hob gadling / dream of the endles [ the sandman ]

just lovers (like we were supposed to be) by bizarrestars - james potter / regulus black [harry potter]

how (not) to meet your son's boyfriend by fifteenminutesoffame - din djarin / luke skywalker [star wars]

unintended consequence by itsmylifekay - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke [one piece]

the rorona fruit by stark_black - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke [one piece]

who did what now? by dancing_homestuck - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke [one piece]

k'diwa: a steamy novel of interspecies romance, by jim kirk by branwyn - james t. kirk / spock [star trek]

part timer by 8ball - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke [one pice]

wrong number by dangit - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke [one piece]

the curse of 100 kisses by fanfictionaddiction23 - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke [one pice]

where there's a will there's a way by xiaq - din djarin / luke skywalker [star wars]

naberrie blooms by zombified419 - din djarin / luke skywalker [star wars]

where hope is persevering by shyowl - din djarin / luke skywalker [star wars]

a sequence that you never learned by annataylor - james t. kirk / spock [star trek]

what the star let in by shyowl - din djarin / luke skywalker [star wars]

facade by hazel_athena - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke [one piece]

what matters by junimokarter - jayce / viktor [arcane]

vitya by applesharon - jayce / viktor [arcane]

mother tongue by nightlilly - jayce / viktor [arcane]

retrograde by hazel_athena - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke [one pice]

so wise we grow by deaster - james t. kirk / spock

always got your back by sydneyxface - roronoa zoro / sanji vinsmoke

[emihotaru]

Well, this is a special one, a Sandman fanart from a wonderful fanfic from @purplesauris , "And Though I Burn (How Could I Fall)", where Hob is summoned with Dream and trapped in the Fishbowl with him for 80 years... it's a heartbreaking story, but it's very very good.

I'm quite happy how this one turned! I was afraid of the light from above, and the fishbowl reflection, but I think it went well^^

[unpredictable-probabilities]

Where It Goes

Summary:

When a train breaks down during a snowstorm, the passengers are forced to spend the night at a hotel.

Two strangers share their Christmas plans and find themselves enjoying the company much more than they expected.

Rating: Explicit

Notes (more at the end):

For Sandman Connect 4 | @sandman-connect4

Prompts: Train + Breakdown + Feast + Explore

I'd been wanting to write a one-shot inspired by this fic written by @softest-punk, and this combination of prompts finally gave me the window for it~

Word Count: 5,130

[Read on AO3]

———

Snow is falling softly on a Friday evening in December, and the streets are alive with brilliant lights and Christmas carols.

Morpheus sees all this with distant interest as he glances up from his book, making sure it isn’t his station yet when the train begins to slow to a stop.

Some people on either side of him get up to exit, and Morpheus goes back to reading. In his periphery, he notices that a couple and their child have just gotten aboard, and he moves to his left to make space for them on the bench.

The train begins to move again. Morpheus is in the middle of figuring out the clues that the detective has discovered in the novel when he feels something bump against his shoulder.

He looks to his left and sees that the man sitting beside him has fallen asleep, his arms wrapped securely around a backpack on his lap.

Morpheus purses his lips. His first instinct is to avoid the touch, uncomfortable with physical contact even from friends and family. However, he understands how tiring public commute can be, especially with the Christmas Eve rush. So he takes a breath and lets it be, managing to get back to the story.

Two stations later, the train lurches to an abrupt halt, making most of the passengers give a shout of surprise.

The man on Morpheus’ shoulder tips forward, and Morpheus instinctively holds out his hand to the man’s backpack to steady him. The man startles awake and sits up, blinking owlishly as the train makes a screeching sound, grinding to a halt halfway into the station.

“Sorry, mate,” the man slightly shakes his head and stifles a yawn behind his hand. “Didn't mean to fall asleep. Uh, what's happening?” He straightens the front of his brown jacket.

Morpheus furrows his eyebrows as he looks around at the other confused passengers. “I believe the train has broken down.”

No sooner has he said the words when the sound of the tannoy comes on and they hear the voice of the conductor informing them that there seems to be a problem with the engine, and everyone has to disembark the train now while they make repairs.

The passengers murmur and grumble their complaints, but there's nothing else to be done about it. The doors open and people begin filing out.

Morpheus sighs and closes his book. He should have known that going home to attend his parents’ Christmas dinner would bring only misfortune.

—

Hob adjusts the straps of his backpack on his shoulders as he goes with the crowd to enter the nearest hotel from the train station.

Snow is falling heavily now, and most of the main roads are closed. Some passengers had started complaining to the conductor and security guards and whoever else in uniform they could find, and so a compromise was reached that they would all be booked to stay the night in a nearby hotel, paid for by the train company as compensation for causing such a hassle on Christmas Eve, in exchange for the passengers not suing them or filing a mountain of complaints.

Hob isn't feeling particularly angry; he's sad to miss his parents’ Christmas dinner, but he's seen enough snowy Christmases to know that he can still most likely make it in time for Christmas Day brunch at their house.

Waking up to the bluest eyes he's ever seen also helped a lot with his mood. He scans the hotel lobby now for the man, but it's difficult with the crowd of people. Hob wonders briefly if the man didn't go to the hotel with them, but it seems unlikely considering how there's hardly any cabs driving in this weather.

A hotel staff approaches them and says that unfortunately due to the amount of people coming in all at once, they would have to share rooms for the night. There's more grumbling and scoffing, and the hotel staff says that a simple meal would be prepared for them soon, and they can wait in the lobby while the food and their rooms are being arranged.

People slowly settle down into seats, and Hob looks around to find himself a vacant flat surface to sit on.

His eyes land on a man seated on the third step of the stairs leading to the second floor. The buttons of the man’s black peacoat are undone, giving him a somewhat relaxed air as his gaze focuses on the book in his lap, his slender legs stretched gracefully on the lower steps.

Hob feels himself smile and makes his way towards the man. He unslings his backpack from his shoulders and gets something from the outer pocket.

“While we wait for dinner,” Hob holds out the unopened buttered croissant in clear packaging.

The man glances at him, then at the food in his hand. “Thank you, but it is not necessary. I am not hungry.”

Hob nods and returns the croissant in his bag. “Alright, well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind. Is it alright if I sit?” he points to the stairs. “Everywhere else is full.”

The man glances at the crowded lobby and nods. “Of course.” He turns a page in his book and returns to reading.

Hob sits on the same step as the man, on the farthest side against the wall. Fortunately, the staircase is wide enough that there's still plenty of space between them for people to walk through if they wanted to use the stairs.

Hob places his backpack on the step below him and takes out his phone to message his parents. He informs them of the situation and reassures them that he'll be home for Christmas brunch.

They talk for a while in the family group chat, and Hob is glad to know that the snowfall isn't too heavy at his parents’ place.

He looks up when he sees some people walking around, and he realises that they're starting to set up tables and distribute food.

Hob glances over to the man beside him, and he still looks the same as when Hob first approached; quietly reading his book with a very subtle frown of concentration, partly leaning against the railing.

Hob considers informing him that dinner is almost ready, but he gets a better idea.

He stands up and slings his backpack on his shoulders, and heads over to help with setting up.

A few minutes later, Hob comes back to the man with a plate of food. “Here you go,” he holds it out.

The man glances up and looks at the plate: grapes, cheese, two slices of white bread, and ham.

“Wasn't sure what you'd like so I brought the safest options,” Hob says sheepishly.

The man tilts his head a fraction to the side. “Why did you bring anything at all?”

Hob shrugs and sits down against the wall again, setting his backpack down. “To thank you for catching me earlier? Would have fallen on my face if you hadn't.”

“It was simply common decency,” the man said indifferently.

“So is this,” Hob holds out the plate again.

The man gives a small smile. “Thank you.” He takes the plate, but then a notification sound from his pocket takes his attention. He sets the plate down beside him and takes out his phone, frowning when he reads the screen.

“Something troubling you?” Hob picks up a grape from his own plate. “If you don't mind me asking.”

“I was supposed to go to my parents’ house tonight for Christmas dinner. I informed them earlier of the situation, and the passive-aggressive messages have begun,” he says drily.

“Maybe they're just worried about you?” Hob offers.

“They're worried about their image,” the man corrects him. “For reasons I am yet to understand, they want all their friends to see on social media that we spend Christmas together annually. Perhaps they think it would somehow draw in more business for their country club.”

“Oh.” Hob falls quiet. It’s a bit surreal to hear, especially since it’s a stark contrast to how Hob feels about celebrating Christmas with his family.

There’s another notification sound, but this time the man smiles at his phone. “My older sister told me to be safe, and my younger sibling called me a ‘lucky bastard’ for not being there right now.”

“I’m guessing none of you actually enjoy those dinners?” Hob smiles despite the unhappy sentiment, just glad to see that the man’s mood seems to have improved.

“Indeed,” the man sighs and returns his phone to his pocket. “Ah, where are my manners. I am Morpheus.” He holds out a hand.

Hob grins. “Hob,” he shakes Morpheus’ hand. “Hopefully you have a better Christmas Eve now than last year. No posh parents to tolerate here. Unless you wanna approach any of them in the lobby,” he nods in the direction of it.

Morpheus chuckles. “How about you, then? Where were you headed?”

“Same as you, Christmas dinner with family. We do it yearly, too. No complaints so far, apart from when I extremely messed up that batch of cookies two years back.”

Morpheus raises his eyebrows in curiosity. “How does one ‘extremely mess up’ cookies?”

“When one misreads ½ cup of baking soda as 2 ½ cups. Tasted like chemicals, I nearly choked on it,” Hob scrunches up his face at the memory.

“Where did the 2 come from?” Morpheus asks in amusement.

“It was the second item on the ingredients list. I thought ‘2’ was part of the measurement, since it was right beside the ‘½’,” Hob explains, gesturing with his hands.

Morpheus glances at his plate like it might be poisoned. “You didn’t cook any of these, did you?”

“Oi!” Hob says indignantly. “That was one time! I’ve made excellent cookies since then.”

Morpheus laughs, a real one that brightens up his entire face and makes Hob feel pleasantly warm on the inside.

“Well,” Morpheus says as he calms down. “I’m sorry that your Christmas Eve is turning out to be bleaker than last year’s. It sounds like you actually enjoy spending it with your family,”

“Oh I do, but last year was… different.” A ridiculous understatement, but Hob isn’t sure how much would be socially acceptable to tell someone he just met.

Morpheus looks at him curiously. “I’m guessing it was worse than inedible cookies?”

Hob chuckles awkwardly and glances down at his plate. “Yeah, uh… my girlfriend at the time broke up with me.”

“On Christmas Eve?” Morpheus says in surprise.

“She felt like she had to, I think,” Hob shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I proposed. Thought it would be a grand romantic gesture. And it was, which was the problem. She said things were going too fast, I was too much, stuff like that.” He focused on getting a piece of lasagna from his plate, taking a bite of it and chewing slowly to make himself stop rambling.

“I see,” Morpheus said without pity or judgement in his voice, which Hob is grateful for. “I apologise for having brought up such a personal matter.”

“Nah it’s alright. It hurt an awful lot at the time, but I’ve made peace with it now,” Hob says sincerely. “It took a long while and a great deal of support from my friends and family, but eventually I was able to move on from it. We wanted different things, that’s all.”

Morpheus nods and uses his fork to put some ham and cheese on the piece of bread and puts the other slice on it to make a sandwich. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re too much,” he gestures with the sandwich towards Hob before taking a bite of it.

Hob chuckles and tugs at his earlobe, feeling his face warm. “Thanks, mate. Uh, you can go back to reading now,” he gestures to the book still open on Morpheus’ lap. “I just wanted to make sure you got some food before they ran out.”

Morpheus raises an eyebrow. “You don’t wish to speak with me anymore?”

“No, I do!” Hob says hurriedly. “It’s just that, my sister’s a bookworm and I know she hates it when people interrupt her reading.”

Morpheus smiles. “I see. And what does it mean when she willingly puts a book away in order to spend time with someone?”

“Oh, that’s a huge honour,” Hob says fondly. “It means she’s really interested…” he trails off when Morpheus closes his book and puts it in his small messenger bag. “You’re…?”

“Interested? Yes.”

“In me?” Hob says without thinking and almost takes it back.

“Are you opposed?”

“No,” Hob replies probably too quickly.

Morpheus’ eyes are twinkling with fond amusement, and Hob thinks the flush on his face might be glaringly obvious.

He is saved from saying anything embarrassing by the announcement of the hotel staff that the rooms are ready, and that they can queue up to get assigned with roommates.

Hob and Morpheus finish their remaining food and get up to stand in line. Morpheus hangs back a little when they reach the queue and gestures for Hob to be in front of him.

The now familiar notification sound catches Hob’s attention and he turns in time to see Morpheus looking at his phone screen with a sour expression.

“More passive-aggressive texts?” Hob asks sympathetically.

“Yes. I'm muting them now. I shall just claim that the snow had caused disruptions in signals.” Morpheus pockets his phone again, but there’s still a crease on his forehead.

“Are you alright?” Hob asks.

Morpheus lets out a breath. “They keep asking how my girlfriend is and whether I'm bringing her there tomorrow.”

Hob’s heart drops to his stomach. Morpheus has a girlfriend? But then why—

“I have not told them we had ended our relationship more than eight months ago.”

“Oh,” Hob feels guilty about how relieved he feels. “I'm… sorry to hear that.”

Morpheus shakes his head lightly. “It was for the best. She works in Greece, and our relationship could not survive the distance. But as you say, I’ve made peace with it. I just haven’t told my parents about the breakup because I know they’re planning to set me up with an heir to some company or other. I don’t know, I don’t really keep track of their business deals.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re not having dinner with them,” Hob says to lighten the mood as they move up the line. “You can enjoy Christmas Eve for once.”

Morpheus smiles. “Indeed.”

They reach the front of the line and the woman at the desk asks Hob if he already has someone to share a room with or if they need to assign him one.

Hob realises he hasn't thought about it, and turns to Morpheus. “Do you wanna share a room?”

Morpheus nods. “Yes.” He looks at the woman. “How many would we be in one room?”

“Given the limited capacity of the hotel this evening, four people would share a double room, that's our room with two beds,” the woman adjusts her glasses. “And two people would be assigned to each single room with one bed. Extra mattresses and blankets will be provided upon request.”

Hob exchanges glances with Morpheus. He wouldn't mind sharing a room with more people, but it might be more comfortable if it's just the two of them, given that they know each other more than anyone else here. Safer too, since they already trust each other to some degree.

Yeah, keep making those excuses, Gadling, a part of Hob’s brain tells him.

“It's your turn in the queue,” Morpheus says. “You make the choice.”

“It'll be your room too,” Hob points out.

Morpheus looks away for a moment. “I am not prone to socialising.”

“Single room it is, then,” Hob tries not to sound too happy about it and nods to the woman to confirm.

She types something on her computer and gives them their key cards. “That’s on the second floor, down the hall to your right. Have a good evening,” she says with a friendly smile.

“Thank you,” Hob takes the cards and looks at her nametag. “Lucienne,” he returns the smile.

Hob hands Morpheus a key card and they head to the stairs.

“You can now resume your sleep from the train,” Morpheus says playfully as they walk side by side.

Hob smiles. “I guess, but I'm not really sleepy anymore. I think I'd walk around and explore the place for a bit, and ask for that extra mattress. You take the bed.”

Morpheus shakes his head. “I do not mind the mattress. You can have the bed.”

“We'll coin flip for it later,” Hob says when they reach their room.

Morpheus looks around and walks towards a small shelf with drinks and snacks. “All these and not a singular water bottle,” he frowns disapprovingly.

“Oh I have one, haven't opened it yet.” Hob unslings his backpack and places it down on a chair.

He opens the zipper and a small wrapped present nearly tumbles out, but he catches it in time. He takes the bottle of water he bought at a convenience store earlier and puts the present back in the bag before zipping it shut again.

“Here you go,” Hob holds out the bottle as Morpheus walks over to him. “And that buttered croissant still has your name on it if you want it,” he pats the pocket where it still sits.

“Your bag is full of presents,” Morpheus says curiously as he accepts the bottle.

“Ah, yeah,” Hob chuckles. “For my parents and siblings. Stayed up late last night wrapping them, that's why I was dozing off on the train.”

���That’s very thoughtful of you,” Morpheus smiles and opens the water bottle to take a sip.

“They'd have some for me too, we like giving each other presents. Nothing fancy, just small trinkets and things that we think would make each other happy.”

Morpheus' smile turns wistful. “Your family sounds lovely.”

“And your siblings would want you to have a lovely evening. How about it, then? Stroll around a bit before we argue who takes the bed?”

“There shall be no arguments. We will take the stroll and you will be too tired afterwards and fall asleep on the bed,” Morpheus declares lightly.

“You're not gonna outlast me that easily, I've spent many nights telling my nieces and nephews bedtime stories. And they do not fall asleep after just one.”

Morpheus huffs out a chuckle. “Lead the way, then.”

They go downstairs and order cups of hot chocolate from the crowded café before walking aimlessly around the hotel. They find a garden blanketed with thick snow, and a small gym that's closed for the night.

They eventually end up on a small balcony on the second floor overlooking the amenities at the back of the hotel.

“There's a tennis court,” Hob notices. “Do you play?”

Morpheus shakes his head. “I am not inclined towards sports.”

“What do you do, then? When you're not getting stranded in hotels with strangers.”

“I own a pub that also rents out rooms for those who need a place to stay.”

“Wow, I wouldn't have figured you as a pub owner.”

Morpheus arches an eyebrow in amusement. “You’d have expected me to have a beard? To be more extroverted like a bartender?”

“No,” Hob chuckles. “You just look like an artist, that's all. One of those fancy ones. With your eye for books and gorgeous fashion sense.”

Morpheus smiles. “I do play the piano and write songs, so you're not entirely wrong.”

“Really? I'd love to hear you play some time,” Hob says and instantly regrets it.

It implies a next time, that he wants to keep seeing Morpheus even after tonight.

Too much, too soon. A ring discarded on the coffee table—

“I would love to play for you,” Morpheus' soft voice puts a halt on Hob's thoughts. His blue eyes are bright with sincerity, and his lips curve with that smile that Hob is beginning to grow fond of. “And what do you do, Hob? Apart from judging people based on their appearance.”

“Hey, you just said I wasn't entirely wrong,” Hob points out.

Morpheus just chuckles and takes a sip from his cup.

“I'm a college professor, Literature.” Hob leans against the railing.

“I see,” Morpheus sounds pleasantly surprised. “Do you nurture young minds to express themselves through the written word, or torture them with poetry analyzations?”

“I delight them with Christopher Marlowe, thank you very much. I torture them with Shakespeare.”

Morpheus laughs and glances down into his cup. “I must admit I… did not expect this at all when they said we would have to spend the night here.”

“You didn't expect a college professor with a bag full of wrapped trinkets?” Hob finishes his hot chocolate and places the cup on the railing.

Morpheus smiles and looks at Hob again, and Hob feels something flutter in his stomach at receiving a smile like that.

“I did not expect anyone at all. I am not the most… approachable, I've been told. I had thought I would be spending Christmas Eve by myself.” He empties his cup too and sets it down beside Hob’s.

Hob wonders who could have told Morpheus that, but he decides not to pry and just shrugs. “I didn't want to spend Christmas Eve alone, and you're good company.” He takes a step closer and playfully leans forward. “I'm glad it's you I accidentally fell asleep on.”

Morpheus chuckles and also takes a step closer. “And I'm glad I put my book away to spend time with you.”

“Still interested, then?” Hob says even as his face warms.

“Yes.” Morpheus holds his gaze, eyes glittering with intent.

Hob’s mouth suddenly goes dry, and he can’t help but stare at those rosy pink lips, wondering if they would taste like the chocolate drink Morpheus just finished.

“You're the one who told me to enjoy Christmas Eve, correct?” Morpheus steps even closer.

Hob swallows, meeting Morpheus’ eyes and unable to look away. “Y-Yeah, you should.” He could easily step backwards to put more distance between them, but right now there's nothing on this earth that could make him want to do that.

“Hob…” Morpheus whispers and noses along Hob’s cheekbone, his warm breath like a caress.

Hob grabs Morpheus' face with both hands and presses their lips together, swallowing the pleased hum that slipped out of Morpheus.

The glide of their tongues against each other is soft, and Hob was right that Morpheus’ mouth would taste like the hot chocolate, except it’s infinitely better and Hob can’t stop chasing the heat of it.

Morpheus wraps his arms around Hob’s waist, and Hob summons a great deal of willpower to pull away from the kiss, placing his hands on Morpheus' shoulders.

“Morpheus…” Hob says breathlessly. “I want… I want to keep seeing you after this. So if this is just a one-time thing for you, tell me now so I know to expect it. We’d both been with other people relatively recently and I don't want you to think I'm just using you as a replacement because I was really sad this time last year—”

Morpheus gently places a finger to Hob's lips. “I wish to keep seeing you as well.” He retracts his finger to cup Hob’s face instead, running a thumb across his cheekbone. “And neither am I using you as a mere replacement. I said I would love to play music for you, and I meant it. Even if we go no further tonight, I am already glad to have met you.”

Hob takes a steadying breath and tightens his grip on Morpheus' shoulders to ground himself. “Okay, okay… If you're alright with it, then I wanna see you again some time after tonight. I'm really glad to have met you too, and I wanna see where this goes.”

Morpheus tenderly rests his forehead against Hob’s. “I dearly enjoy your company and I would like the same.” He pulls back to look at Hob. “Though I am hoping that where this goes next is to our shared bedroom?” he says with a fond smile. “Even if all you want to do is talk, I wish to keep holding you in my arms and—”

Hob has surged up to kiss him again, pushing him backwards against a wall.

Morpheus puts his hands on the small of Hob’s back and pulls him closer, meeting the kiss with such enthusiasm that it makes Hob pleasantly lightheaded.

They do eventually make it to their bedroom, though Hob can't at all remember how. He just hears the click of a lock and the next thing he knows he's on his back on the bed, Morpheus looming beautifully over him.

He grabs the front of Morpheus' coat and pulls him down, kissing him like he needs it to breathe.

Morpheus' tongue dives deep, exploring Hob's mouth and eliciting sounds that Hob might have been embarrassed by if not for the fact that Morpheus is making them too.

Morpheus' fingers slip under Hob's shirt and he shivers, earning him another pleased hum.

They push and pull and squirm until coat and jacket and shirts fall unceremoniously to the floor.

Hob feels the hard line of Morpheus' cock against his own through their trousers and a wounded noise escapes him, his hips bucking up to chase more of the sensation.

Morpheus mirrors his impatience and reaches with trembling fingers to undo Hob’s fly. Hob bites his lip to maintain a modicum of composure as he returns the favour, and soon enough they've divested each other of the rest of their clothing.

Hob gets impossibly harder at the sight of Morpheus cock, but he doesn't have much time to stare as Morpheus captures his lips once more.

They rut against each other, precome making them slick and sticky as they moan into their kisses. Hob remembers seeing snow outside but he doesn't feel the slightest bit cold; his skin is on fire and every touch of Morpheus only stokes the flames.

Hob threads his fingers through Morpheus' hair, keeping him in place and relishing in the feeling of soft raven locks under his hands.

He feels a hand wrap around both of their cocks and Hob gasps, breaking the kiss and eyes rolling back in his head.

Morpheus sucks and nips at his neck as he strokes down their lengths, his pace quickening until he's making muffled whimpers against Hob's skin.

Hob’s legs begin to tremble, he digs his fingernails into Morpheus' back and his mouth falls open in anticipation as he feels the familiar pull at the base of his spine.

“Hob…” Morpheus moans sinfully into his neck.

Hob's response is a sound that's all vowels, but he thinks he can't be blamed when Morpheus is tightening his hand and twisting his wrist in a way that's slowly driving him mad.

Hob takes Morpheus' face and brings it up to him, wishing once more to feel those soft lips against his own.

Their kiss is more gasping and panting than a proper kiss, but Hob is too far gone to care. He thrusts up desperately into the circle of Morpheus' hand, his eyes squeezed shut and his heart thundering in his chest.

Morpheus deepens the kiss and sucks on Hob's tongue at the same time as he twists his grip—

Lightning shoots up Hob’s spine and his vision goes white as he comes, shaking uncontrollably with his screams muffled against Morpheus' mouth.

Morpheus follows him a moment after with a strangled sob, thrusting and pressing Hob’s body repeatedly into the bed as he milks them both of every drop of spend.

They're both whimpering when Morpheus slows down his pace and stops entirely, collapsing on top of Hob.

Hob can barely feel his limbs but he manages to put a soothing hand on Morpheus' back, and they catch their breaths together as they feel each other’s heartbeats return to normal.

Somewhere outside the hotel, a clock strikes midnight, and the distant sound of Christmas songs can be heard.

“Merry Christmas,” Morpheus smiles and gives him a soft kiss.

“Merry Christmas,” Hob whispers, still on this side of breathless.

Morpheus slides off him to lay on his side, and Hob immediately turns around and pulls him into an embrace, their noses almost touching.

“I never asked, what were your plans for Christmas Day?”

Morpheus hums and idly runs his fingers through Hob's chest hair. “Pretend to still have no phone signal so I can keep avoiding my parents. Though I shall send a text to my siblings to let them know I am safe.”

“Then… Then, if you'd like, you can come with me to brunch?” Hob asks hesitantly. “It's another yearly thing we do as a family, and you're welcome to join.”

Morpheus' eyes widen slightly, and Hob starts to panic.

“I know I said we'll still see where it goes, you and I, I mean. But it doesn't have to mean much, it's just brunch and I want you to have a happy Christmas too and—”

Morpheus stops him with a kiss, and Hob distantly thinks in the back of his mind that that's a dangerous way of spoiling him. He might never shut up if that's how Morpheus always quiets him.

“Hob,” Morpheus says softly when he pulls away. “I would very much like to spend Christmas with you and your family. Though I'd argue I'm already having a happy Christmas right now,” he smiles.

Hob chuckles in relief and presses closer to Morpheus, tucking his face in the crook of his neck. “Just you wait, we haven't even begun yet. I'd make you breakfast but there's nothing to cook here, so we'll just have to see what's in the café tomorrow before we leave.”

“Does that buttered croissant still have my name on it?” Morpheus asks as he caresses Hob’s back. “I'll have that for breakfast if it means I get to spend a few more hours cuddling you in this bed.”

Hob groans and pulls away to look at Morpheus. “You're actually driving me mad, you know that? You can't be gorgeous and sweet, it's not fair.”

“You are very much the same, yet you don't hear me complaining.”

Hob feels himself flush, and Morpheus smiles and snuggles into him, resting his head under Hob's chin.

Hob can’t help but smile as well, and he lets his eyes close as he feels the pleasant warmth of Morpheus' body against him.

Hob pulls the blanket over them both, and as they fall asleep in each other’s embrace, Hob thinks that he's already having a happy Christmas too.

———

Notes:

Hob's Baking Soda Bungle is based on that time my sister misread the baking soda measurement in the recipe. The cookies really did taste like chemicals 🥲

Thank you for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments! <3

———

(2024 Sandman Connect4 Masterpost)

(Masterlist)

[classic-blue]

Harbor and Home

Image used with permission, via Densewentz, see the original here.

DreamlingDads!AU || Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling || General Audiences || No Archive Warnings Apply

Word Count: 7.7k

This, Dream thinks. His agitated mind stutters, and stills. This he can fix. He may be unable to bring order back to Hob’s life, but he can bring order back to his apartment. Probably. He thinks he knows where Hob keeps his cleaning supplies, at least. It is somewhere to start.

Read it on AO3 here!

Once again, @densewentz's lovely DreamlingDads!AU took over my brain and spawned more fluff. Featuring baby Kian! Cleaning supplies! Men crying! And enough fluff to get everyone through these trying times. Stay safe out there, folks.

Fic tags: Domestic Fluff, Slice of Life, House Cleaning, Light Angst, like very very light angst, That gets worked through, Comfort, Dream gets a bit emotional and overthinky, but he works through it, technically small mentions of mpreg, But it's Dream so mpreg is debatable, Kidfic, Babyfic, Hob Gadling’s PhD is in making eldritch gods discover new feelings, Dream has a very Ghibli moment or two

[jaskieriswitchersexual]

Dreamling fic idea

A Dreamling idea for a story that came to me (I am not a writer, please feel free to pick this up and let me know how it turns out!):

Basically, after Dream is captured and put in the fishbowl, the dreams and nightmares don't just fuck off to wherever because they think their creator abandoned them.

In this (AU if you want to consider it that) world Dream is respected but also beloved by his creations, and they leave the Dreaming with the goal of tracking him down because clearly something must be wrong for Dad Lord Morpheus to not come home.

They recall that Dream has that side quest going on with the pretty human man, so they stop by Hob's home to pay him a visit to see if he has any information, unaware that he has no idea who his Stranger is. They give him a crash course and he joins their hunt for Dream.

Hijinks ensue on the journey to find and rescue Dream with a happy ending.

Btw this is what I see in my mind when Hob + the dreams and nightmares finally storm the Burgess place to free Dream

[pa-nd-em-on-iu-mp-an-da]

My main HC for Morpheus is he lives and just retires from the stress of being Dream.

He gets convinced to just live for himself and choose his own destiny without the expectation of his existence weighing him down.

Hob helps him, both of them moving into a cottage where they learn to coexist and Morpheus learns how to be human without the added stress of a city life.

He reads books, new ones having to be thoroughly digested rather than just instantly available in his head like a goddamn robot.

Maybe he helps Hob plant seeds and realises that it's somewhat close to breathing life into new creations and helping them grow into their desired functions, immediately addicted to the feeling of mud under his nails and stains on his clothes because he's creating a life without needing a purpose for it.

They go down to the beach, and yeah it's not like the Shores of The Dreaming but he still has his spade and bucket and by fucking Christ is he going to make the best sand castle ever, Hob, stop laughing!!

He builds and builds until he's tired and worn out and sweating pints, but there's a version of the castle - his home, even if it's not his anymore, even if it didn't feel like home, not really - standing proudly in the sand. And he stares at it, realising that the dreaded feeling in the pit of his stomach is still there, but it's not as suffocating as it used to be. He's not weighed down by the unconscious minds of everyone, he gets to create for the simple pleasure of creating.

He gets to go back to the cottage, curls his feet under him and drinks hot chocolate as Hob cooks in the kitchen. Music's playing in the background as the fire roars in the hearth.

He feels safe.

He feels content.

He feels loved.

He's happy.

(And maybe a certain Angel and Demon buy a cottage close by, causing an all-out garden war between the Resident Goths on whose plants are better?? Which then creates the Annual Garden Competition. Both Hob and Azi are chilling and having cake whilst the Resident Goths are fighting over the last seedlings).

I just want the dweebs to all be happy.

Is it so much to ask for??

[fallloverfic]

Rating: Mature

Category: M/M

Fandom: 天官赐福 - 墨香铜臭 | Tiān Guān Cì Fú - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù

Relationships: Feng Xin & Xie Lian, Xie Lian/Hua Cheng, Xie Lian & Qi Rong

Tags: canon divergence, friendship, anxiety, angst, hopeful ending, hurt/comfort, more tags on Ao3

Summary: After Xie Lian tells Feng Xin to stop following him, Feng Xin agrees it's time to go, and bids Xie Lian's parents goodbye as well. But in the following evening, he decides it's worth giving the relationship one last shot. He returns to horror, and stays by Xie Lian's side.

Feng Xin Goes Back (5,906 words, complete)

[seiya-starsniper]

"Oh I'm dreaming of you again. If I wouldn't be dreaming and if you would be really here, then I would tell you I love you."

*slides $5 across the table* dreamling. you know what must be done.

Ayyyy I FINALLY got around to doing this one! 😅😅 Starting my birthday off right with a present for you! 💖💖

[AO3 Link Here]

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When war comes to the Endless Empire, Ser Robert Gadling, known simply as Hob to his men, is on the front lines of the defense effort, fighting for his monarch and the love of his life. The second title is a secret he keeps close to his breast, for there are no scenarios in which a Knight would be deemed the type of lover fit for a King. 

The war is long and brutal. The Morningstar Kingdom had timed their invasion well, choosing to strike in the heat of summer, ideal conditions for soldiers who were born and raised in lands far hotter and more unforgiving than Hob had ever known. Their forces are fierce, but Hob’s are fiercer, for they have something to protect, mothers and wives, sons and daughters.

Hob only has his King. Orphaned at a young age, Hob was recruited as a foot soldier into the royal army as soon as he was of age, and his quick thinking and heroics on the battlefield earned him a coveted place in the royal court, right as the Endless family had established themselves as monarchs of the realm. 

Try as he did to be polite, Hob did not fit easily into a life of court politics. He could not hide his brusque mannerisms, his frank manner of speech, and it was that attitude that endeared him to King Morpheus years ago, establishing a unique friendship most other nobles would sneer at.

Hob never cared for noble opinions before King Morpheus, and to this day he still did not. It is his king’s face that he sees in his mind’s eye as he cuts down the Morningstar’s soldiers, pushing their forces further back. It is his king’s voice that rings in his ears as he and his men march through the pouring rain, caked in mud, blood, and sweat. It is his king’s eyes that Hob sees in the moments after an arrow pierces through his armor, knocking him off his horse and rendering him unconscious.

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

When King Morpheus receives word that the battalion Hob was leading had fallen in battle with no known survivors, he nods solemnly and dismisses the messenger, along with the rest of his court to give those who had lost a son, brother, or lover, time to mourn.

What his court does not know, however, is that once the throne room is empty, Morpheus collapses to the floor and weeps. He weeps for his fallen people, for the lives that this pointless war has cost his kingdom, but in particular he weeps for Robert—no, Hob Gadling, his oldest and most treasured friend.

Hob had been one of the only members of Morpheus’s court that did not treat him like the outsider he was when he was appointed king. When the Endless came to power, they divided the small municipalities into their own kingdoms, placing each of their seven children as the reigning monarch. Dream had suffered many cutting remarks and passive aggressive attacks, but Hob had been open and honest with him, even if their relationship did not start off in the most positive manner.

To know now that Morpheus would no longer hear Hob’s laugh, would never again be able to break bread and share stories over a warm open fire with him, that he would never feel the warm touch of the other man’s hand upon his shoulder, was more than the king could bear. He retires early to his bed, and spends the next days alone in bedchambers, claiming a sudden illness, but in truth, he is mourning for what could have been, what he was too cowardly to reach for, what he could have had, if only he’d been brave enough to confess how he felt.

And now, it was too late. 

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

When Hob finally escapes his imprisonment behind enemy lines, he leaves a trail of bodies in his wake, including the head of the Morningstar King. He steals a horse and rides away into the night, desperate to return to his men and tell them that everything is over. The war is over. The Morningstar and their warriors will trouble them no longer.  

When he comes across the nearest army camp flying the Endless flag, he heads immediately for the general’s tent. But instead of finding his second-in-command, he finds King Morpheus there, sprawled across what was once Hob’s bedroll, a cup of some unknown liquid in his hand. When he sees Hob enter, he freezes and drops the cup immediately, and the smell of cheap liquor fills the air between them.

“Oh,” King Morpheus whispers in a broken tone that absolutely breaks Hob’s heart. “I'm dreaming of you again.” As Hob steps further into the tent, he can see the king’s brilliant blue eyes are stained red from crying, and his cheeks too are covered in tear tracks that criss-cross along his face. It is breathtaking and beautiful, agonizing and unbearable, all at once.

“I am no dream,” Hob says softly as he approaches his king. Had he put those tears on his lord’s face? Had Morpheus thought him dead the entire time he’d been imprisoned?

“Oh but you are, for why else would a dead man stand before me and haunt my grieving heart so?” Morpheus replies, his breath hitching now as his body threatens to start sobbing anew. “Why else would I see you, if not as a reminder for every unspoken word, every regret I hold for not confessing to you you my deepest desires?"

Now it is Hob’s turn to gasp, his heart beating wildly in his breast. Surely there was no way that Morpheus was alluding to sharing the same desires as Hob. But then, why else would his king be here, in Hob’s tent, laying amongst Hob’s things, acting as a grieving widow, if he didn’t not feel like one himself? 

Hob takes another step closer, and though Morpheus startles, he does not flinch back from him. Hob then kneels down in front of his king so that they are eye to eye, and steels his nerves for what he plans to say next. 

“What would tell me, my liege, were you not caught in the thrall of a dream?” Hob asks. “What words do you hold in your heart that you could tell me before?”

Morpheus chuckles, and it sounds like shattered glass. 

“If I were not dreaming?” he asks. “If I wouldn't be dreaming and if you would be really here, then I would tell you I love you, Robert Gadling.”

Hob he gives up all semblance of self control and brings his hands to his king’s face. Morpheus gasps at the touch and Hob wants to kiss him, wants to pull this beautiful, wonderful man into his arms and never let him go.

“You’re—” Morpheus breathes, his eyes filled with tears once more. “You’re alive.”

Hob nods. “It is not a dream,” he says. “Touch me, and feel that I am real.”

Morpheus lunges towards him and seals their lips together in a kiss. Hob kisses him back, uncaring of the fact that any random soldier could walk in at any moment. All that matters to him now is that he and Morpheus are reunited, that he is alive, and in love with someone who loves him back. That is all that matters, for tonight.

[redrosetoberead]

Summary:

when mu qing's car breaks down, out of the generosity of his heart feng xin offers to give him a lift whenever he needs. he didn't expect for it to be every single day.

which, what he learns with time, is actually not THAT horrific because he gets to see a slightly different side of mu qing and actually gets to know him a little better. it is still annoying though. and it's messing him up.

~~

or fengqing are oblivious idiots and it takes a lot of random car rides to realize the feeling's mutual

[redrosereads]

Summary:

In which Feng Xin comes home from a long day at work to a even more tired Mu Qing in bed (with Cuocuo.)

[doitforstamets]

Kiss of the Sphinx

Inspired by Moorishflower's gorgeous fic The Riddle of The Sphinx Reference Christian Behrens' "The Kiss of the Sphinx"