#trans dreamling

[cuubism]

Transmasc Hob or transmasc Dream are always and forever on my mind. We need more hot sexy men with vulvas representation. Especially in smut.

hell yeah 🫡

i do like how the fandom plays fast and loose with gender and with different body types. I've never seen anyone be like 'well the characters can't be X because blah blah'. it's refreshing. go crazy and depict them however you want.

trans hob is super interesting conceptually in the canon universe. what was his life like in different eras? it's fun to consider.

fandom loves transmasc dreamling, i love transmasc dreamling, we all prosper

[kydrogendragon]

Hob stares down at the small medicinal tube in his hands. He has been staring at it now for nearly an hour, and the ripple of excitement still runs through him. He takes a breath and unscrew the cap. The scent hits his nose immediately, and it's not...unpleasant, not really, but it certainly is strong. He squeezes a small dollop onto the pad of his finger and presses it against the under-responsive scent glands.

He knows, from his doctor and testimonials on the internet and even from friends he knows that the effects aren't instant. It's a gradual process, one that will take time, and yet the moment the cream is absorbed into his skin, Hob just feels better. He feels right.

Hob screws the cap back on and sets it down on the sink, beside his toothbrush and razor, ready for daily use. He looks up into the mirror and smiles.

It takes less time than he expects for Dream to notice. He's now been two months on A as of last Friday, and he's starting to notice changes (finally!) Nothing major, mainly that his scent glands have gotten more noticeable—to him, that is. They've started to itch in a way they never have before. And his sense of smell has gotten sharper too. The first time, he caught a wiff of Dream's scent from inside the crowded bar and knew it was him? Hob was ecstatic. So it shouldn't come as too big of a surprise when Dream stares at him with an even sharper gaze than usual when he answers the door.

Hob stands, bag of take-out in one hand, and a copy of the extended Lord of the Rings movies in the other. Dream looks him up and down, his nostrils flaring. Hob wonders, perhaps a bit tok late, if his scent is finally beginning to change as well now.

"You..." Dream starts, then shakes his head. "Come in."

Hob blinks but steps through, making his way to their usual movie spot in the living room of Dream's flat. "Mrs. Chen tossed in an order of samosas for you again," he says, untying the thin plastic bag handles. He hears the telltale sound of drinks being prepared in the kitchen.

"Mrs. Chen is simply determined to fatten me up," Dream calls back. Hob chuckles as he sets out the containers of food, then sets the DVD case on the television stand.

While Dream's still preoccupied, Hob takes a moment and wipes his hand across his scent glands, and takes a whiff. It's stronger, perhaps, than usual, but it still smells like him, he thinks. Maybe he just stinks in general, and Dream was being polite and not saying anything. He has been sweating a lot more since being on HRT.

He hums and settles into his usual spot on the couch.

[Transition stuff. They're chatting/watching the movie, ect.]

"Have you started seeing someone?" Dream asks him right as the screen prompts them to put in disk two. Hob whips his head back to find Dream staring at him with that piercing gaze once more.

"No? Why?"

"Because you do not smell like yourself." Dream's eyes narrow. Hob's heart jumps in his chest. Shit. Maybe he's gotten a bit nose blind to his own scent.

"I'm not seeing anyone, I promise. I'd tell you if I was." Dream eyes him a moment longer before huffing and turning back to the screen.

"I am not a fragile thing, Hob Gadling," Dream says coolly. "I will survive if you have found a possible mate. It is not as if I am some—some charge you are responsible for, that if you leave, I will shatter. Despite what my sister might claim."

"Dream—"

"And if you have found an alpha you are happy with, then I will be... happy—" his tone is anything but "—for you. But you needn't lie to me when I can smell their scent all over you."

"Their scent..." Hob's hand trails up to his neck, palm resting just above his itching gland.

"Yes. You reek of it. It permeates from you as if you have drowned yourself in it." Dream stands, stepping towards the DVD player but not quite finishing the small journey there. "I will understand if you find yourself with less time for me because of it. It is only natural to want to spend time with the one that makes you happy," he adds on, voice smaller than before.

Hob stands and reaches out, grabbing a hold of Dream's arm. He tenses in Hob's hold but doesn't turn, nor does he pull away.

"Dream, I—There's something I need to tell you." Dream takes a deep breath in as if preparing himself for the inevitable. "I should have told you sooner, I just...I didn't know what you'd think.

"I'm not seeing anyone, that's true, but you're right. This scent you're smelling is new. Guess I've been nose blind to it lately. But it's not anyone else's. It's...it's mine. Well, my new scent, I guess. For this moment of time. It might keep changing, I'm not really sure."

Dream angles his head to stare at Hob from the corners of his eyes, his face confused. Hob smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I'm transitioning. To an alpha. S'why I smell different. And why a whole bunch of other things about me might soon be...different."

Hob waits. Dream just stares. He can practically see the gears turning in his friend's head.

"Why were you afraid of telling me this?"

Hob lets Dream's arm go and slots his hands in his pockets. He looks down as he speaks. "Dunno. I know after Alex—" Hob sees Dream's muscles in his leg twitch at the name "—you weren't...I thought..." Hob sighs, neck tensing as he struggles against the persistent nagging fear lodged in his chest. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me. I didn't want to scare you off or lose you because you couldn't feel comfortable around me anymore."

"Do you truly believe me to be so weak?"

"That's not what I meant. You're not weak, I've never thought you were weak, Dream. But you can be uncomfortable. I can count the number of alphas you're fine with in close quarters on one hands and three of them are your own family."

"And why would you think you would not immediately be added to that list?"

Hob inhales, breath catching partway. "I...I don't know. Didn't want to presume? Thought maybe you'd find my new scent unbearable or something."

Dream shakes his head. "You are a fool, Hob Gadling." He turns to him fully, eyeing him no longer with doubt or concern, but with a new hunger in his eyes. His nostrils flare again as he takes in Hob's scent properly. Hob smiles when he hears the quiet happy trill in Dream's chest.

"Acceptable smell then?"

"Quite," Dream replies, stepping closer. "In fact, it is possibly the best scent I've smelled from an alpha before."

Hob's heart sings as Dream calls him an alpha. It's the first time he's heard it from someone he knows, someone who's not a doctor or pharmacist. It feels good. Feels right. And then Dream's leaning closer, and Hob can feel his soft cheek against Hob's neck, and his body flares at the touch. Dream rubs his cheek against his skin, scenting him, letting their scents combine.

Hob takes a deep breath and is smacked by a nose full of Dream. It's intoxicating. It's rich and smooth like silk. And it's doing something to his mind that it never did before. His instincts scream at him, tell him to hold, to touch, to claim. His skin ripples with anticipation, and it's torture. And it's this that he was afraid of. That he wouldn't be used to the instincts that come with being an alpha, that he wouldn't be able to resist or wouldn't be used to stopping himself.

He steps back, pushing Dream back by his shoulders. His hands dig into Dream's shirt, and when he sees the hurt expression on his face, Hob wants nothing more than to pull him back close, to comfort his omega.

No. Not his.

"I'm sorry, I..." Hob grimaces as he drops his hands and wraps them around his chest as if it would somehow quell the utter need to bite and to mate. "I should go, I—I don't want to accidentally hurt you."

"What is wrong?"

Hob growls, heat beginning to rise in him "Fuck," he hisses. "I think it's a damn rut. Well. A pre-rut, technically. Not a true one but—" he's cut off as a sharp lance to his side causes him to gasp. He stpes back, falling into the couch. When he looks back up, Dream's eyes are dark.

"That is what I smelled on you. Rut. Or the start of it. No wonder your scent was so strong. Is this your first?" Dream closes the distance, standing between Hob's legs, which does nothing to help the deaire to pull him down into his lap and ravish him.

"Technically," he replies, breathing growing shorter. "It won't last as long, at least it shouldn't. Maybe a day max. But they'll start more frequently until I get my first actual rut." Hob growls once more as that lance of pain shoots through him again.

"Fucking hell," he yells. "Do your heats hurt like this?"

"Sometimes, yes. Though, it is easier if shared with a partner."

Hob squeezes his eyes tight as he rides out the wave of pain. "Yeah? Guess I'm shit out of luck then."

There are hands on his knees, slowly pulling his legs apart. When he opens his eyes, he sees Dream knelt between them looking predatory. "Not quite. I am here, after all."

Hob's breath catches in his throat. "Dream—"

"I know you do not want me for a mate, but it is not uncommon for friends to help one another through ruts and heats—"

"—the fuck do you mean I don't want you for a mate?" Hob cries, his hands cupping Dream's face. Clearly this was not what he expected Hob to say because Dream kneels there, blinking for a moment before continuing.

"You...do? Wish me as a mate?"

Hob laughs. Dream scowls, but Hob just leans forward and presses a light kiss to his forehead. "I've wanted you for years now, Dream."

[They figure their shit out briefly]

[Then Dream rides Hob like a goddamn professional bull-rider. Hob's never come so much in his life. And he even gets the barest hint of a knot going. Dream compliments it and tells Hob he fills him so well, that he can't wait to get Hob's final knot in him and how he looks forward to going on this journey with Hob as well.]

[five-and-dimes]

As You Always Were

A very silly fic based on a convo I had with @gabessquishytum about Dream being an idiot but in a gender affirming way lol

Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~

Hob felt like a teenager in a lifetime movie, but he was choosing to lean into it.

Gripping the bathroom sink with both hands, he stared himself down in the mirror. “You can do this,” he said to his reflection, “You deserve to live your truth. You love yourself. Even if things don’t go the way you want, you’ll survive it. You’re sexy and you know it.”

Nodding to himself, he turned away from the mirror and began pacing his flat, looking for anything left to clean or organize.

He was going to come out to his boyfriend today.

It had been two months since he and Dream became official. They had known each other in some capacity for much longer. They shared a lot of mutual friends, but for a long time Dream didn’t tend to join large group get-togethers, so Hob only saw him occasionally. Then this past semester they had both ended up in a class together for the first time. Despite studying vastly different subjects, this particular course was required and both had managed to miss it when they were underclassmen. And now, as they entered their final year of university, they both needed to complete it in order to graduate. Drawn to any remotely familiar face, they had sat together, and then started talking more, and then slowly fallen for each other.

The past months had been amazing, full of sweet dates and kisses and hand holding and Dream being nothing but understanding when Hob hesitated to go any farther. But Hob wanted to go farther, had been burning out of his skin with the need to touch every part of Dream and be touched in return.

He just… needed to let Dream know what to expect when he took his clothes off.

Stalking through the living room, he moved the books on his coffee table this way and that, as if it would make any sort of difference. It’s not like it was the first time Hob had let someone know he was a trans man. He’s had plenty of experience sharing that part of his life, with family, and friends, and hookups. It’s gone good, and bad, and all the levels in between.

So why was he so nervous about telling Dream?

He was being ridiculous. It’s not like he was worried about Dream hurting him or anything…

Groaning, he put his head in his hands and allowed himself to turn and flop face-down onto the couch. What a world he lived in, where he consciously felt grateful to not worry about being murdered. Sometimes he hated everything. 

With a sigh, he pushed himself up, shaking his head and aggressively re-fluffing the pillows he had flattened with his brief pessimism. He wasn’t going to think about the world right now. This was just about him and Dream and their relationship. And, optimism aside- even just being logical and realistic in a way he so rarely was- he didn’t think things would go badly, per say. Dream was gay, and had always been an open supporter and ally for the trans community. Worst case scenario, even if Dream decided he didn’t want to date someone with Hob’s body, he was certain they could remain friends.

Turning on his heel, Hob speed walked to the kitchen and began wiping down the counters for the third time.

Could they stay friends? He wanted to say yes, to say they could move on from this little bump in the road, but the truth was, even after such a short amount of time, if they broke up Hob would be heartbroken. He had fallen hard for Dream… could he really go back to being friends with him after knowing what it was like to kiss him and hold him? What if it was too much, hurt too badly to take that step back, and then he lost not only his boyfriend, but his best friend? And their lives were so entwined, they shared much of the same friend group, would he lose them, too? Choosing Dream over him because Hob was clearly the one being ridiculous and overemotional? 

Catastrophizing, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his therapist rang in his head.

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the tentative knock on his door, glancing at the clock to see that, yes, he has spent the entire morning worrying and fussing and it is in fact the time he asked Dream to come over. 

Hob honest to God straightens his shirt. As though that will help.

What does help is opening the door and seeing the subtle way Dream brightens. No matter how stoic he tries to be, Dream has always been terrible at hiding how very fond he is of Hob, something Hob is eternally grateful for. It’s nice to have the reassurance. Especially now.

“Hello Hob,” he smiles, giving him a quick peck as Hob gestures for him to enter. He takes two steps inside before halting, raising an eyebrow as he glances around Hob’s impeccable flat. He’s been here before, he knows this isn’t the usual state of things. “It seems you were productive today.”

Hob laughed nervously, which only made Dream turn his gaze to look at him curiously, “Ah, yeah, you know, the motivation just sort of hit, haha.”

Dream frowned slightly, “Are you alright?”

Nodding rapidly, Hob starts herding Dream into the living room, “Yeah, absolutely, I just-” Dream allows him to gently push him to sit on the couch, “I mean, I am fine, there’s just something I wanted to talk to you about,” he paces in front of Dream for a moment as his boyfriend’s head moves to follow him silently, “And it’s nothing bad. Or, or at least I don’t think it is. It just… it just is, y’know?” 

He turns back to look at Dream and finds him staring, blinking slowly in carefully reigned in confusion, “No. I don’t know. What’s going on?”

Hob released a shuddering breath, dropping down to sit a respectable distance away from Dream on the couch. “Okay, I…” Hob wrung his hands together, “I had a whole speech planned, but I didn’t write it down and now I can’t remember any of my talking points, so I… I’m just gonna say it.”

Dream nodded, brow furrowed in concern as Hob closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m transgender.”

Even just saying the words made his chest feel lighter. It was out in the open now. Whatever happened, happened. 

And what happened was Dream reaching out to gently cover his tense hands with one of his own.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Opening his eyes, Hob looked over, and his breath caught in his chest at the soft smile Dream was giving him, the one he only showed Hob, “I know that must have been hard,” Dream continued, running his thumb over Hob’s knuckles, “thank you for trusting me with that.”

“So,” Hob’s voice was breathless, a smile slowly creeping onto his face, “So you’re okay with it?”

“Of course!” Dream took both of Hob’s hands into his, eyes wide and anxious in a way Hob had come to recognize meant he was afraid of being misunderstood, “Of course I’m okay with it! I’m sorry if I ever made you think I wouldn’t be. I l-...” He swallowed thickly, “I care about you so much, Hob. This doesn’t change that at all.”

Hob couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him at the cut off confession. Dream had warned him of his struggles with love, especially with “falling too fast”. Despite Hob reassuring him that Hob also had a history of falling far faster than some would deem reasonable, Dream still tiptoed around it, always wary of scaring Hob off. So it meant something that he had come so close to slipping.

“I care about you, too,” Hob leaned forward to press his forehead against Dream’s shoulder, letting out a relieved laugh, “God, I was so nervous!”

Dream pet his hair, “Understandable. I know it’s a big deal. But I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

For a few minutes they stay pressed together, Dream a comforting presence as Hob let the adrenaline bleed from him. When he finally pulled back, they smiled at each other. Before he had a chance to lean in to kiss him, Dream spoke again.

“So,” he tilted his head questioningly, “should I use she/her pronouns from now on?”

Hob could feel the record scratch in his brain. 

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Shook his head, “What?”

Dream frowned, “I just meant in private. I wouldn’t change pronouns in public if you’re not ready for that. I’d never want to out you. Although I’d be more than happy to support you whenever you want to begin social transitioning.”

“Transitioning?” Hob was still waiting for his brain to restart. He felt like he was in the twilight zone. Dream was smart, Dream was studying astrophysics, there was simply no way-

“I’m sorry,” Dream bit his lip nervously, “I don’t mean to make assumptions. I just want to make sure that when we’re together I refer to you as you want. Would you prefer they/them? She/they?”

“What? No. What??” Hob shook his head rapidly as he realized that no, this wasn’t a dream, this was actually happening, “No, Dream, it’s the other way around!”

“...They/she?”

“No!” And even as he yelled the word, Hob’s face split into a grin and he burst out laughing. Dream blinked in confusion, looking like he didn’t know whether to be offended or not, and it only made Hob laugh harder.

“Dream, babe, sweetheart,” Hob gasped for breath, trying to pull himself together and failing, “I’m a trans man! I’ve already transitioned, that’s what I was trying to tell you!”

For a moment Dream just stared, blinking slowly like a cat. Like a particularly dumb orange cat.

“... He/him, then?”

All Hob could do was keep laughing. 

Slowly, Dream began to giggle too, which only made Hob laugh harder, which made Dream laugh, and the vicious cycle continued until they were both doubled over with tears on their faces.

“You are the smartest person I know, how are you such a himbo?” Hob exclaimed.

“Shut up!” Dream shoved him playfully, “I was being supportive!”

Hob couldn’t resist. He threw himself forward, tackling Dream back onto the couch, allowing himself to lay on top of him as he kissed him clumsily, barely suppressing his grin enough to press their lips together, “God, I love you so much.”

A laugh caught in Dream’s throat, his eyes widening. Hob doesn’t want to pressure him, so he smiles, leaning in to rub their noses together, coaxing a soft giggle from him. He just wants to make him comfortable in the wake of a confession that he knows is a lot for Dream, he’s not expecting anything back right now.

He thinks maybe it’s that sentiment that allows Dream to look up at him and reply, “I love you, too.”

“Yeah?” Hob grinned, leaning back so he is sitting up and stradling Dream’s hips, “Even though- and I can’t believe I have to say this outloud but now I have to make absolutely sure you understand- I have a cunt?”

Dream sputtered, face flushing at Hob’s bluntness. And yet, even as he pouts, he nods, “Yes. I love you, however you are.”

“You would love me if I was a worm?” Hob teased.

Dream nodded solemnly, replying completely seriously, “I would love you if you were a worm.”

Hob’s grin softened, and he leaned down to kiss Dream again.

And then, feeling bold and brave and loved, he grinned mischievously.

“I hope you know I’ll be telling this story at our wedding.”

(Years later, Hob will end the story by telling their guests about how Dream smacked him in the face with a pillow.)

[gabessquishytum]

Had an omegaverse AU idea that feels like it might feel at home in your inbox, so here we go...

Hob is a pretty chill alpha who is happy with all kinds of partners. That's how he ends up in bed with an omega who asks him if Hob might be okay with a special kink of him. The guy likes to act like an alpha, and to make the fantasy complete, Hob acts like an omega. The thing is, while Hob just went along with it, he really really likes it. Oops, kink acquired. Hob doesn't mind, but it's a hard one to do by himself or one he can find a partner for, so Hob goes to a professional instead.

Dream is said to be awesome with roleplay and weird kinks and Hob learns firsthand that it's true. Being with Dream is so much better than it was with the other guy, after all, he really is an alpha and he certainly has a way of making Hob feel like an omega. Over time, Hob gets so into it that he's happy to act like Dream's perfect little slut and he loves when Dream acts like he's breeding him, whispering in his ear how well Hob takes him and how he's going to fill him up with his come.

They have a lot of fun until Hob has to cancel their meeting over getting sick. He felt a little weird for a while, but now he begins to worry over his weird symptoms and almost loses his shit when the doc begins a line of questioning about his sex life to the point of asking if he might be pregnant. Like, he's an alpha, that doctor is insane.

Hob leaves, but when Dream asks how he's doing, he has to admit that he still doesn't know what's going on. When Hob talks about his weird doc, Dream suggests another doctor and offers to come along. That's how they end up in front of Lucienne, who tells Hob that he is indeed pregnant. Turns out that while he has a dick, he also has all the necessary organs to actually have a baby. The only reason he got away with it so far is that he presented as alpha.

Lucienne is actually quite interested how Hob managed to present as omega all of a sudden, and when Hob admits to his "little kink", it all makes sense. Since Hob was so into it and Dream did such a good job with the roleplay, he accidentally bitched Hob so well that they didn't even notice the change, and since they kept fucking like bunnies, they made an oopsie.

Imagine Hob finding out that from one moment to the other he's a pregnant omega because he really loved Dream's dirty talk and getting knotted over and over again by such a nice and hot alpha. Meanwhile, Dream is losing his mind because they can't be serious. Yes, he totally loved the idea of Hob being his perfect little omega but it was just pretend. There's no way Hob would want a messy whore like him as his baby daddy. Right?

This is SO GOOD. Kink acquisition + accidental pregnancy is such an excellent concept.

I'm fascinated by the changes that would happen both in and outside Hob’s body. Now that he knows what's happening to him, he is more easily able to observe his symptoms. Of course the pregnancy kind of heightens everything, but there's also other stuff. A subtle shift in both his appearance and his scent. Wider hips, a difference in weight distribution around his body. People begin to treat him slightly differently, too. In public, alphas hold doors open for him and offer to carry heavy items for him. Instead of avoiding him, young omegas see him as a safe space and will ask him for help in public settings. Hob doesn't expect the euphoria that all of these small things provide, but he truly does find himself living more happily. Being a pregnant omega is maybe exactly what he's wanted to be for his whole life, even if he didn't know it.

The only trouble is Dream. Hob is convinced that Dream doesn't want to have anything to do with him or the baby. He obviously must just see Hob as a particularly weird client. He's been particularly standoffish, almost cold, and Hob is devastated but resigned to the idea that he'll be a single parent. He keeps Dream informed about the baby throughout his pregnancy though, just in case!

They're both very stupid, honestly. They could totally be together, preparing for a happy life with their baby, but both of them have so little self esteem! Neither can believe that they'd be wanted. Lucienne is banging her head on her desk after every doctor's appointment (Dream attends every one with Hob) because she can see that they're so compatible!!! They're basically true mates!!! Dream’s dick was so magic that it changed Hob’s secondary gender, of course they're destined to be together!!!!!

I fully believe that in the late stages of his pregnancy Hob would snap, though. He's SO pregnant and hormonal and overwhelmed. He's only been an omega for 5 minutes and the adjustment is so hard. His patience wears thin and he eventually begs Dream to just give him and their baby a chance. He NEEDS his alpha. He NEEDS Dream to step up.

And Dream, bless him, doesn't have to be asked twice. He does such a good job of stepping up that he sends Hob into early labour by knotting him so thoroughly. That dick truly is magic! Ultimately it all works out fine - their baby is perfect, despite their unexpected entrance to the world. Hob is exhausted and delighted as he feeds his child. Dream will need to look for a new job, but he's never been more content.

Hob really was the omega that the universe made just for him.

[moorishflower]

Eating Out (Dream/trans!Hob Explicit)

i heard we were writing trans Dreamling and then I saw that one ask someone sent @gabessquishytum and I blacked out for a few hours and woke up with this on my desktop please enjoy

Contains: FtM Hob Gadling, public sex, oral sex, free use/multiple partners, voyeurism, multiple orgasms, scent kink, hair kink, little bit of eldritch Dream as a treat

The club is almost violently loud, and the instant that Dream materialises within it he wishes to leave.

He could. There is nothing holding him here. Not even his new agreement with Hob Gadling, that they meet twice a month, holds sway here – they have already held their pre-arranged meetings for December, have 'caught up' with each other, as Hob calls it, though Dream always feels as though he has nothing to contribute. He tells Hob about the unceasing tedium of ruling a kingdom, of settling disputes between his creations, of shoring up the defences of the Dreaming such that it will be prepared for any onslaught, and it is all the same, always the same things over and over again for aeons, but Hob leans towards him and listens with the most fascinated air. He asks questions. He is interested.

Dream would much rather hear about Hob's life. His many lives, in fact, within the last two centuries. It seems as though Hob is always doing something: viewing art with noted professors on the subject, or attending poetry readings, or assisting in the building of various installations of a political nature at protests, or organising a play put on by trans youth from local universities. In this century he is highly invested in matters regarding gender and sexuality – which Dream supposes makes sense. His own gender would have been considered at best a novelty in his own time, and at worst an affront to God. These days, however, he lives openly and freely as the man he has always known himself to be.

It is all of these things, and more, that are the reasons why he is here tonight. The Dreaming is stable at last – there are no pressing matters for him to attend to this eve – but he is shortly expected to meet with Lucifer in order to renegotiate their ancient treaty of tentative peace, and he is, as Hob would say, not looking forward to it. He is, in fact, dreading the experience. He is certain that Lucifer has neither forgotten nor forgiven his brief foray into Hell when he retrieved his helm, and the humiliation they were forced to endure at his hand. He will freely admit that he was. Not as gracious. As he could have been, upon his triumph.

He does not want to think about it. And so he is here, looking for Hob Gadling.

It occurs to him, however, as he watches the ebb and flow of people around him, that Hob may not wish to be found this night. He had assumed, when he'd reached for Hob's presence in the Waking and drew himself towards it, that he would appear in Hob's flat above the New Inn. That is where he is most often to be found, this time of night, unless he has prior engagements.

This club, though...it is of a distinctly sexual nature. Its patrons dressed in leather and latex, and some dressed in almost nothing at all. There are sheltered alcoves with faux-leather seats where two or three or more humans whisper quietly to each other, and kiss, and touch sensuously; there are other stations that Dream recognises, but only from dreams: a St. Andrew's Cross, a whipping post, a wooden bench over which a young man bends while a woman dressed entirely in white lace strikes him with a thin crop, raising fine red weals on the pale skin.

Perhaps he ought to leave. If Hob is here to procure a partner for the evening, then it is no business of Dream's.

Except.

Except the thought makes him. Unhappy.

He examines this realisation with detached interest, because he knows if he allows himself to become invested in the idea there will be no going back. Hob is his friend. They have known each other for over six-hundred years. He does not want to ruin their friendship, burgeoning as it currently is.

Neither does he wish for Hob to be here, seeking something that he believes Dream cannot provide for him.

Is that the crux of it? The source of his displeasure? Hob has come here, seeking fulfilment, instead of seeking out Dream? He would have no reason to approach Dream. Their friendship has never had a sexual component.

Although.

He remembers the way Hob had looked at him in 1589, so proud of the largess he had provided, eager for Dream's approval. He remembers the slow up and down glance of 1389 when he had approached Hob's table, when he had still been a beardless ruffian, binding his chest with scraps of wool. He remembers, in 1789, how Hob had looked at him, how he had tugged at his ear, how eagerly he had come to Dream's defence.

Perhaps he had simply not been in the best position to notice any interest. Hob's, or his own. Too prideful. Too convinced that Hob was just like every other human, grubbing about in the dirt for power and acclaim. Too assured of his own high status – one such as he, friends with one such as Hob?

He knows better now. Knows that Hob has lived rich and varied lives, which Dream has, for the past several months, taken succour in, experiencing them through Hob's tales, learning more and more about his friend. Liking what he has learned.

This, he decides, is a new aspect of that learning. And perhaps a new chapter in their friendship, if Hob is amenable. It has been long and long since he has laid with a human – he spares a moment to thank the memory of his sister for withholding her gift from Hob, for it means that Hob is not, strictly speaking, mortal – and perhaps it would be wise of him to observe Hob in this environment first. If Hob is here, he reasons, then necessarily he will be familiar with the etiquette of such a place.

And if Hob is otherwise occupied with a lover already...

He decides not to continue that thought.

A path forward decided, Dream wends his way through the crowds. The club is densely-packed with people, all ages, all nations and creeds and genders, and of them all he is the least-appropriately dressed in his coat and t-shirt and jeans. He does not bother to change, and no one approaches him – he is as a ghost, drifting between the revellers, a visitor to this holy house of Dionysus and Pan, following the faint trail of Hob that guides him like a ball of twine. Gentle prodding at daydreams reveals that Hob was here at the bar, that he, also, had been dressed-down for this occasion, in a white button-up and a pair of loose trousers. Still, others had looked upon him and had, in gauzy fantasies, wondered what he would look like dressed in less. Had wondered what his stubble would feel like against their cheeks. Had imagined his hands – broad, callused, peasant's hands – on their hips, their thighs, their genitals.

Dream does not linger in these daydreams for long, but pursues his true quarry, slipping through the gathered throngs, enjoying, for the moment, the feeling of stalking his prey. It is only infrequently that he is allowed to feel this, the thrill of the hunt, the pursuit; he is, by necessity, a guardian of his dreamers, but he is dreams and nightmares both, and often he longs for an end to the mournful tedium of his duties. Longs for peaceful oblivion or, at the very least, something that he can sink his teeth into.

The club is much larger than he had initially thought, and Dream follows Hob's trail up stairs and down corridors, until he finds himself in a section of the venue that has been cordoned off; several security personnel stand stationed at pre-set points, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings within.

There are significantly fewer clothes in this part of the club, Dream realises. And what is worn is designed for easy access.

It is less crowded here, but no less quiet – the air is filled with the sounds of pleasure, moans and squeals and throaty whispers, creating a chorus of rising debauchery that drowns out the thumping music below them. He remains unseen, untouched, as he slides through the gaps in the crowd, around amorous couples, ignoring the slick sounds of bodies entangled and flesh entwined, until, at last, he reaches the end of the trail.

Hob Gadling has arranged himself in a secluded section of the upper floor, where dark curtains have been set up to give a modicum of privacy, though the acts happening just beyond are still within full view of the rest of the floor. He is seated in a chair, one of the low, slightly reclined ones that pepper the rest of the club, though this one has been considerately draped in plastic sheeting. The reasoning behind this is immediately obvious: Hob Gadling sits with his thighs spread, revealing the hole that has been cut in the groin of his loose trousers, and there is a woman kneeling before him, with her face buried between Hob's legs.

Dream does not care about the woman, though objectively he recognises that she is beautiful, and clearly quite happy with her current position. His eyes are fixed on Hob, who has his head thrown back, sweat dappling his forehead, mouth open as he gasps and pants. His neck is pulled taut, revealing the tempting line of his jugular, and his shirt has been unbuttoned to reveal the thick hair on his pectorals, almost completely hiding the scars beneath. The woman between his legs does something that must be particularly pleasing, because Hob's eyes slip shut, and his hips rut upwards, and even through the music and the noise and the crowd Dream can hear the sound of his moaning, reaching a fever pitch as he climbs towards climax. When he comes, all his muscles strain at once...and then he slumps, panting, while the woman leans back and licks her lips. The entire lower half of her face is soaked in fluid, and Hob's thighs glisten with the same. It is clear that he has been here for some time.

There is a small sign, Dream realises, that has been set up beside the chair, and a few people positioned around it, reading its words, watching with interest. Some of them watching with eagerness. Eat me out, the sign says. Accepting all comers. Face-sitting offered for best orgasm. Beneath this titillating invitation is a short list of the things that Hob is not interested in. No PiV, says one, and, No S/M.

He watches the woman climb to her feet and then lean down again, whispering something into Hob's ear. It makes him laugh, whatever she says, a full-throated, beautiful display, his head tossed back as he guffaws. Then the woman kisses his cheek, and Hob takes the opportunity to pull her in for a generous hug. Dream has been on the receiving end of such hugs before, but he has never considered that he might be gifted them under such. Specific circumstances.

Then the woman moves away, and he is treated to the sight of Hob on full display. And Dream stops. And looks. And breathes.

Hob had been beautiful, with the woman between his legs, but now that it is only him he is even moreso. With no one in the way Dream is able to see the thick trail of hair on his belly, leading down to the dark thatch of his pubic hair, curls wet with spit and slick. The lips of his sex are parted, red and swollen from the attentions of Dream knows not how many, and here, too, he is wet and open and wanting, with his cock jutting proudly upwards. The plastic sheeting beneath his seat is soaked in his own fluids, and even as Dream watches a newcomer approaches, speaks quietly to Hob and, at Hob's cheery nod and grin, kneels down and begins to lick the plastic clean.

He could remain here unseen, Dream realises. To interrupt Hob's revelry would surely lead to a foul mood later on, but. But.

He wants.

For all that he is neither flesh nor blood, he responds as the form he has taken bids him to, his trousers growing tighter as his erection fills, his stomach clenching with desire, his heart beating faster. His mouth floods with saliva at the sight of Hob's hairy thighs flexing, the dark, spit-damp and abundant curls of his sex, the thin trail of sexual fluids that drips from his fluttering opening and is caught on the tongue of the man kneeling in front of him. And he feels a flash of jealousy, when Hob reaches down and pets the man's hair, and says something softly to him. He recognises the look in the man's eyes, one of fervent adoration, and knows that, were he in the same position, his own expression would be much the same.

He does not wish to ruin their friendship, but. But.

He must make a decision. To remain here, unseen, a silent watcher, is a violation of Hob's trust in him. To reveal himself is to potentially face Hob's ire, but he might take pride in the knowledge that at least he tried.

Dream inhales, breathing in the sharp smell of lust and sex, and steps forward, allowing himself to be seen.

Hob does not notice him at first, still murmuring to the man between his legs. After several moments, though, he looks up, and Dream sees the exact second that Hob spots him: his eyes go wide, and his legs reflexively clamp shut, nearly trapping the man between them, and his muscles shift as if he plans to launch himself upwards before his expression turns resigned, and he relaxes back into his seat. A quick word is had with the kneeling man, who shrugs and then clambers to his feet; he gives Dream a lingering glance as he takes his leave, as do several others of the assembled patrons.

"Dream," Hob says, raising his voice to be heard above the muffled music and the moans and screams emanating from other rooms on this floor. He is still sitting with his knees locked together. "What are you...I mean, far be it for me to judge what you do in your spare time, but what on God's green earth are you doing here?"

"Seeking you out," Dream says. He takes a step forward, and then another, until he has come to a stop almost directly in front of Hob. There is a pillow on the floor, he notices. He had not seen it before; it bears the indents of many previous lovers. He wonders how many have serviced Hob this evening.

He sinks down to his knees.

"Um," Hob says. His eyes are huge, the pupils so dilated that his irises appear as two drops of ink in white clouds. "Dream? What...?"

"I will leave if you wish me to," Dream says. He lifts his hands, letting them hover uncertainly over the heavy curve of Hob's thighs, but not yet daring to touch. He can feel the warmth emanating from Hob's body, more intoxicating than any wine or stimulant, and another wave of wanting crashes over him. Were he standing he thinks he would be staggered by it. "But. If you have no objections. I would very much like to stay."

"No objections," Hob says, voice rising to a squeak. His legs fall apart again, slowly at first, tentative, but widen with more generosity as Dream accepts the invitation, and lays his palms at last on Hob's thighs. They are just as muscled and warm as he had thought them to be, the hair on them coarse where it rubs between his fingers, against his fingertips, and there, at their centre, Hob's sex revealed to him once again. His cock still firm, jutting upwards, his labia still spread and glistening as Dream lowers his head to breathe in the scent of him.

"You smell ambrosial," Dream murmurs, and Hob barks a sudden laugh.

"I've come six times," he says. The tension is slowly leaving his body, allowing him to slump backwards as Dream strokes his thighs. "I smell like sweat and jizz, more like."

"As I said." And to drive home his point, Dream bends down and presses his nose to the sopping curls of Hob's cunt, inhaling deeply. Sweat, yes, and Hob's excitement, and the saliva of others, easily and summarily dismissed in favour of Hob's natural scent, and his friend's murmured, "Oh, oh fuck," as Dream lets his nose brush along the side of his prick. It strains towards him, twitching faintly with Hob's heartbeat. Impudent thing, Dream thinks, though not without a great deal of fondness, and he looks up at Hob through the wild fringe of his hair, blinking slowly.

"You know, I wasn't expecting this," Hob says. His hands clench at his sides. "I only come here maybe twice a year. I wasn't...You don't have to..."

"I wish to."

"...just because I'm. Here. What?"

"I am precisely where I wish to be," Dream says. "And if you truly have no objections. I wish to sample you."

"Jesus Christ," Hob says, and his head falls backwards, thumping against the cushions. "Yeah. Yeah, fuck. Do you know how long I've thought about this?"

"Since 1789," Dream says. He drags the tip of his nose along the length of Hob's cock, and then presses a soft kiss to the head of it, greatly enjoying the sound of Hob's muttered curses. The smell of him is growing denser, sharper, as fresh wetness drips from his cunt.

"Longer," Hob says. "Since the moment I saw you. Thought about bouncing on your cock later that night, even. I would've ridden you so fucking hard."

"Perhaps later," Dream murmurs, and then, for the first time, takes Hob into his mouth.

The effect is immediate, electrifying: Hob goes rigid, mouth opening in a soundless cry as his hips rut forwards, pressing his pubic bone against Dream's nose. His prick is thick, compact, perhaps three inches of trembling nerves that slide along Dream's tongue like silk. The taste of him here is not as strong as it would be directly from the source, but the musky salt of it delights Dream's senses, enraptures him. He lets Hob set the pace at first, trying to gauge how tired he is, how sore...though it quickly becomes apparent that six orgasms in an evening is not, apparently, his friend's limit. Hob does not cry off, nor beg for Dream to give him a moment, but sighs and moans and laughs as Dream sucks at him, first softly, and then with greater force, tracing the thin skin of Hob's prick with the tip of his tongue, then letting it fall free of his mouth so that he can instead lavish attention on the plump lips around it.

Here, he thinks. Here is where his mouth is intended to be, at the nadir of Hob's sex, where his labia are spread like flower petals and his cunt clenches and leaks. Dream hums to himself in delight as he laps a searing path from the root of Hob's prick down to his twitching, wet opening, kneading Hob's thighs with his fingertips as he does so. There is so much hair here that it is impossible to keep his face dry – nor would he want to, even if he could – and Dream leans in to taste, pushing his nose through Hob's pubic hair, committing the scent of him to memory as he licks and sucks at everything he can reach. His wild hunger makes him crude, inexpert, but when he glances upwards to gauge Hob's pleasure he finds his friend flush-faced and panting, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, one hand pushed back into his own hair. When he sees Dream looking he smiles.

"Do you know how gorgeous you are?" he asks. "Between my legs? I've imagined this for so long."

The encouragement is. Pleasing. More than he had thought it would be. Enough that it makes his own cock twitch as he basks in the pleasure of Hob's praise. "So beautiful," Hob says, and he lifts his hips slightly, demanding. Dream is eager to indulge him, and buries his face once more into Hob's sex, licking, now, at his cunt, pressing the tip of his tongue inside to where he is wettest and hottest, savouring the taste of him. The scent that has gathered in his hair, surrounding him now, filling Dream's nostrils, making him dizzy with lust. He cannot resist the temptation to bury his tongue deeper, and then deeper still, longer than any human Hob would ever have taken to bed. Muscles clamp down around him, and Hob makes a startled, thrilled little noise, and then begins laughing again, one hand at last stealing to Dream's hair. He does not clutch, but strokes, softly, like a favoured pet, and Dream purrs, mouth sealed around Hob's cunt, tongue buried in him until there is no more space for anything but Dream.

"You're a marvel," Hob says; Dream flicks the tip of his tongue against the opening to his cervix, soft, soft, and Hob's whole body goes as taut as a bow. "A fuh-hucking marvel oh God, oh fuck, Dream!"

A crowd has begun to form, Dream notes, though it is distant and unimportant information, useful only as much as these people may now see that Hob has chosen him, that Hob favours him. He is too focused on the task at hand to feel anything but the faintest hint of possessiveness – why should he, when he already has what he desires? – and he sets to it with relish, pumping his tongue in leisurely strokes, deep enough that Hob will feel him later, like a sweet bruise. Above him, Hob swears a blue streak, his neglected cock pulsing, prompting a sharp outcry of pleasure every time that Dream bumps the base of it with his nose. Eat me out, the sign had said, and Dream intends to follow it to the letter – there will be time enough, he hopes, to worship every other part of Hob later.

"Dream," Hob says, "Dream, I'm, I'm close, I'm–"

Dream does not wish to be warned. He wishes to be covered in the smell of Hob, drenched in him, and so he presses his tongue sharply up at the same time as he moves his hand to stroke Hob's prick with his thumb, humming in satisfaction as above him Hob shouts, thighs clamping hard around Dream's ears, a gush of fluid oozing around Dream's tongue as he works Hob through first one panting, keening peak, and then a second one just after, smaller, Hob squeezing rhythmically with his thighs, his cries of completion turning to whimpers and then to silence, just the sound of his breathing, like thunder, and murmured noises of appreciation from the gathered crowd. Dream slowly pulls back, and looks with satisfaction as Hob's gaping cunt, at the trickle of spit and come that drips from him, smoothing the curls there flat and sleek.

"Oh," Hob says. His voice is shaky, but inexpressibly fond as he reaches forward and cups Dream's cheeks with his palms. "Oh, I've made a complete mess of you."

He does not need a mirror to know that Hob's words are true. Dream can feel the warm air of the club brushing cold against the wetness on his cheeks, his chin, where it drips in thin lines down his neck. Hob smiles at him, his thumb stroking Dream's bottom lip.

"I think I might have one more in me for tonight, if you're interested," he says, and then with his foot he stretches out and tips over the little sign he had set up beside his chair. "But maybe somewhere where it's...just us? If there's no objections?"

His voice is hesitant. Searching. Dream gazes up at him, dazed, as he had known he would be, with how much he wants, and not only with how much he wants Hob's body, but his laughter as well, and his joy, and his time and his company. No, there are no objections.

"It would be my pleasure," he says, and Hob, still smiling, leans down and kisses the damp tip of his nose, and then the corner of his mouth, and then Hob's lips cover his own, gentle, and around them the club continues on in its revels but, for the moment, it is only them, and it is perfect.

[obsessiveagony2point0]

Happy Pride!

I’ve read so many fanfics and headcanons of Hob being bisexual, pansexual (also my personal headcanon), or trans as well as Dream being asexual, nonbinary, or agender and really felt the need to make those headcanons into some kind of reality.

Under the cut are other pairings of these flags, and please, please, pleeeaseeee comment if you’d like to see them with other flags!!

[izzy2210]

All The Time In The World

for @evashuu you literally helped me so much with this it's only fair

~~~~

Hob was grading essays, papers sprawled all over his usual table at the New Inn. It’s a few weeks after his stranger came back, Dream, he knows now. Dream, who’s sitting across from him, his hands politely in his lap, watching him work. He likes this, coexisting with someone in the same space, it makes him finally start grading these stupid essays he has to finish in two days. A student of his called it ‘body doubling,’ something that often works for people with ADHD. He tries not to think about what that means for him too much.

The door opens, the bell ringing, and he looks up. Speak of the devil, the kid walks into the Inn, their hands in their pockets. They spot Hob, and he raises his hand to wave, when their eyes go wide, and they make a U-turn in the doorway and start to walk away again.

“Rowan!” Hob shouts, and a few grumpy women side-eye him. Bummer, he thinks, I own the place. Rowan turns around again. “You should sit with us!” Hob smiles, and the kid rolls their eyes, reluctantly walking towards the table where Hob and Dream are sitting. 

Dream turns slightly to look at them, and then his eyes widen, his jaw tenses. He spots their too-sharp teeth as they grimace, the jewellery in their too-pointy ears isn’t steel. “Hob..” he starts, but his friend is already busy scooting to the left in his booth, letting Rowan sit next to him. 

“Rowan, this is Dream, a.. friend. Dream, this is Rowan, one of my students. I was just grading papers, already did yours.” Dream stares at Hob, then at Rowan. “Do you want tea? I could make you some tea. Myra-” he turns to the woman behind the bar, “Could you make Rowan some tea? On the house, it’s fine.” Hob grimaces, and Rowan twirls one of their rings around their finger. 

Dream is still staring at them when Myra brings their tea, and Rowan looks at the floor, masking their fear with awkwardness. They can feel, sense that Dream is Other. It doesn’t comfort them. They got banished from the Faerie for a reason, and they aren't planning on going back. Maybe this creature is going to take them home.

Hob hands them their tea, and they take it, warming their hands, even though it’s not that cold outside. Hob talks, they think, but they aren’t listening, not really. They’re looking at the creature across from him, his jaw set tight, his eyes a piercing, unnatural blue. Hob doesn’t seem to notice the tension. 

“Hob, are you aware..” Dream starts again. “Mh?” “Are you aware your student is.. Other?” He says, carefully, he doesn’t want to shock Hob. 

Hob chuckles. “I know, Dream, that they’re queer. It’s something you can say, these days, you don’t need to come up with euphemisms.” Hob sips his own tea, and the little crease between Dream’s eyebrows deepens. That.. That is not at all what he meant, but he can’t let the Fae know he knows and that Hob doesn’t know- It’s all terribly confusing. Rowan chuckles nervously. 

The rest of the afternoon goes that way, Hob talking animatedly, Rowan deeply uncomfortable, and Dream trying to pierce two symmetrical holes in their skull with his eyes. 

Eventually, after some whiskey mixed in with his tea, Hob invites Dream over to stay, and Rowan excuses themselves. Hob will pay for his tea, he promises, and then Rowan hurries out of the Inn. 

“Hob..” “Do you.. Want to stay over? Perhaps?” He asks, and Dream tips his head to the side, like a curious bird. Hob has never offered that, but it sounds.. Good. Dream nods, and Hob slides out of his booth, showing Dream the way up the stairs, to his apartment above the Inn. Pushes the door open, drops onto the plush couch while Dream just stands there, delightfully out of place between the brown bookshelves and green rug, Hob’s own little treehouse. Hob stares, and Dream stares back. They’ve always been strange like that.

Hob may be tipsy, but he’s definitely not thinking about how Dream’s lips would feel against his. Nope. Also not about carding his fingers through Dream’s hair, looking down at him as he puts those lips somewhere else, certainly not about letting Dream push him down onto the mattress, kissing him senseless and stupid while Dream’s fingers pet his chest, and move down, down..

No. Definitely not.

Dream clears his throat, a strange sound. “You.. You can sit, if you want?” Hob offers, and stares even more as Dream seems to fold in on himself like a goth lawnchair, tucking his sharp elbows and sharp knees in and sits down on the couch, sinking into it a bit. 

“Ah, you’re sitting in the spot I used to sit in. The underside of it cracked, so it’ll probably feel a bit weird to sit there..” Hob knows he’s rambling, knows this is awkward, but he can’t do anything but let his mouth run, afraid that if he’ll stop talking thoughts will start to form in his head again, maybe even daydreams. He doesn’t know if Dream can sense those, but he isn’t keen on finding out right now, not with this mindset. 

“It is comfortable.” Dream simply says, and Hob just nods. “This place is lived in. Some humans would call it.. Cosy.” Dream slides his hand over the fabric, Hob chuckles, and stares. “Yeah. That.. That was the goal. I have my books, my desk where I grade papers students write..” He smiles again, definitely doesn’t wonder how Dream’s hand would feel in his, or somewhere else..

“About your students.. Rowan Sorbus, as they call themselves, they are-” “Yeah, they’re something, aren’t they? Lovely kid to have in class, not afraid to ask questions, or question the textbook.” Hob smiles. Maybe Rown and Dream could bond, they are both.. Not from around here, to say the least. 

“Yes, well..” Dream starts, and then sees how comfortable Hob is here, and stops. He.. He wants to see where this night is going, without the intrusion of telling Hob that his favourite student is Fae, and could potentially be dangerous. He doesn’t want to disturb his peace. And if he thinks about it, Rowan didn’t look all that threatening. Maybe he was wrong.

Hob talks, about difficult classes and incorrect textbooks, about old mad Hettie and new friends, and Dream listens, intently, scooting closer with every new story. Dream doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink, but the stories are fuel for him, he can almost feel them. Hob tells them so well, he can almost smell the scent of new textbooks, old tea and a wooden desk as Hob tells him how difficult it is to grade papers on your own. He can feel the grains between his fingers as Hob tells him that he organised a company trip to the beach for the staff of the New Inn, and he can smell the sea as he tells him about that one time when he went fishing with a friend, catching an actual octopus. 

“The smell of the ink brought me back, oh lord. M’hands used to be covered with it when I was working at the printing presses, god!” Hob sits up. “That’s when I thought you were the devil!” He chuckles, and Dream smiles softly. “Mh, and now I’m friends with you. Fancy me being friends with the devil.” He grins over at Dream, who smiles more.

Those smiles were rare, in the early days, but in this century Hob earns them in abundance, as he jokes, mocks and tells his stories. He relishes in them, loves them dearly. He speaks more, about all kinds of things, and when he glances at the clock he sees it’s past midnight. 

“Hob, as much as I like your stories, it is late. You should retire to bed, I believe you have classes to teach early in the morning.” Hob hums, a little disappointed. “Yeah, I do.” Dream seems to tense up, suddenly, just a little, but Hob spots it. “Business calls in The Dreaming, my friend. Good night.” And then Dream is gone.

Hob sighs, and goes through the motions of getting ready for bed. Strips out of his shirt and trousers, brushes his teeth, has a piss.. All with a sort of pit in his stomach. It’s not exactly sadness, not exactly anger. Just.. Emptiness. He really thought he was doing it right. He gets in bed, and if he wraps his arms around the other pillow and shoves his face in it, expecting the smell of Dream but getting the smell of his laundry detergent instead, nobody needs to know.

——————————————————————

Rowan sleeps, and wanders. Through fields and grasslands, over mountains and ravines. They’re not sure what they’re looking for, but they know there’s something. 

They drop down, exhaustedly, in an open field, watching the sky shimmer with stars. They hear footsteps coming closer, but the sound isn’t threatening, and they’re too tired to move, so they don’t. Sue them, they feel like they got exiled all over again.

“You are not from around here.” A voice says, a female voice, a voice they recognise. They find the strength to sit up. “You..” A small, pixie-like creature stands next to them, her brown hair short and choppy, her ears just as pointed as theirs. Their eyes widen, shit, they really can’t seem to be inconspicuous lately. 

“You’re Ash-” “I don’t go by that name anymore. It’s Rowan.” They interrupt, a bit defensively. If they didn’t feel like they just ran a marathon, they would flee. 

“Alright. I’m Nuala.” She sits down next to them. “I.. I know who you are. You were a real big deal. I’m.. I’m sorry.” They say, and she shrugs, sitting closer. “You didn’t know. It’s not your fault I was gifted to him like an object.” At that, Rowan’s eyes widen, and narrow again. “Who is him?” 

“The king here. He’s.. A bit of a prick, to be honest.” Nuala giggles, and Rowan chuckles with her. “He’s strange. Doesn’t really talk much, mostly watches.” She continues. “He did say he liked what I did with the decoration. He.. he is difficult sometimes. Doesn’t trust easily.” Rowan nods. “I know some people like that. They take a while to warm up, but-” “He can’t warm up. He can only tolerate, I think sometimes.” She sighs. “I.. I used to like him, dreamt of a relationship with him. It's all a bit ironic, now.” She chuckles wetly, and Rowan can feel their heart break for her. “What’s his name?” they ask, scooting closer. They’ve always been up for a good gossiping. 

“His name’s Dream.” 

Oh.

Fuck.

“Tall, pale, goth? Black hair, bluest fucking eyes you ever did see?” They say, standing up, suddenly not so tired anymore. Nuala frowns, “Yeah, how did you know?” 

Fuck. 

“I saw him today, he was all defensive and cold. D’you think I pissed him off? Would he have the power to send me back?” They ask, concerned. “I.. I don't want to go back, I’m good by myself, I really don’t need the pressure-” A silhouette appears on the horizon, almost seems to materialise there, and they stop talking. The figure gets bigger, and Nuala stands as well. 

“There he is,” she says. “I.. I should go.” And in a cloud of sand, almost glittery pink, she’s gone.

And then they stand there, too tired to flee this impending doom, it seems. Did.. did he do this to them?

As he gets closer they see he’s wearing some sort of cloak, fire licking on the seams. He seems mad, powerful. Rowan doesn’t quite know what to do. They’re.. Scared.

“No need to be frightened, Rowan Sorbus.” He says, when he’s in hearing range. “Easy for you to say. What did I do to piss you off, eh?” They choose offence, no point in being nice. Dream’s eyes narrow. “I am not angry, Rowan. This, all of it.. Was a case of miscommunication. I was under the impression that you were planning on hurting your teacher, Hob Gadling. The Fae can be.. complicated creatures.” Rowan opens their mouth to say something, but Dream is quicker, “I now know. That that is incorrect, and it was.. Not good of me to make that assumption.” Rowan nods.

“No, no.. Yeah. It.. It’s okay. I’ve had worse. Why..” They have this nervous tick, where they rub the ridge of their ears, to check if they’re still as pointy. They wished they fit in more, sometimes. “Why are you so protective over Mr. Gadling?” Dream���s lips quirk, just a little, but Rowan spots it.

“We are good friends. We have been for quite a while.” Rowan frowns. “How long?” “You would not believe me if I told you.” They chuckle, nodding. “Mh, sure. Try me.” 

“We have known each other precisely for six hundred thirty three years, one month and nine days.” Rowan whistles between their teeth. “Mr. Gadling’s immortal?” “He is.” “Wouldn’t have guessed, he hides it well. Although I could smell something Other on him. Maybe that’s just you, though. How long have you been together?” Do Rowan’s eyes deceive them, or do they spot a blush on Dream’s marble face?

“We are friends.” He mutters, and it sounds almost like he’s convincing himself. Rowan whistles again, and sits down in the grass. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you today, Dream. I’ve seen the way you are protective over him. You better figure stuff out. You might be defensive about him, but I am just as much. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Dream nods, slowly. “I.. understand.” “Do you understand yourself? Your feelings?” Dream frowns. “I am not interested in a therapy session with you, little Fae.” Rowan snorts. “Pff- Fuck. That’s now what I want either. I just want you to be good for Mr. Gadling. In whatever way. Friends, or boyfriends, whatever. Just..” They stand again, facing Dream, looking properly at him for the first time. He’s quite handsome. “Be good to him, alright? I.. I don’t want to lose my family again.” They ask, and Dream nods. “I will. Now wake up, little Fae. I think you will find that you helped me a lot when you get lessons from him again.” Rowan nods, and blinks. When they open their eyes, they’re laying in their bed, wide awake.

——————————————————————

Hob is sitting in the New Inn, the evening sun streaming through the windows. He has his eyes closed, he’s not grading papers, just enjoying his business, enjoying the weather, when the bell on the door rings, and he cracks open an eye to see Dream, out of place in his black trenchcoat. Hob grins, and waves him over. 

“Hob..” He mutters as he sits down in the chair in front of him. Hob likes the way he says his name.  “I have had an interesting conversation with someone last week. It made me realise certain things. These things are.. Better said in private, if you do not mind.” Hob frowns, but a smirk tugs at his lips. “Sure, Dream.” He stands. “Is there something wrong?” “Not at all.” Dream mutters, and follows Hob up the stairs.

Hob falls down on his couch with a sigh that could only be made by fathers, and invites Dream to sit next to him. He does, and it’s a sight. Hob made sure to sit on the broken part of the couch. He remembers. “So. What was it that you wanted to say?” 

Dream opens his mouth, and closes it again. When his lips part again, he can only say “I..” before changing his mind. Hob thinks he looks like a fish. A pretty fish, though. “Take your time.” 

“I have been thinking.” Hob shifts in his seat, grinning. “That’s dangerous. Go on.” “And I have come to a realisation. About myself. However, it concerns you as well, yet I do not wish to change how things are going if you do not wish it as well, and I-” “Dream. Think about what you are going to say, and say it, please. It sounds serious.”

Dream sighs, frowns a little, and Hob’s eyes get drawn to the little crease between his brows, then the sharp edge of his nose, then the soft arch of his lips..

“Do you want some tea while you think?” Hob says, suddenly. Dream nods, absentmindedly. He looks like he’s piecing together a puzzle in his head, brow still furrowed. Hob stands, but Dream grabs his wrist gently. “Wait.” Dream stands, and now they're in front of each other, but Dream is avoiding his gaze. 

“I have come to realise. That I care a great deal about you, Hob. More than.. humans would consider a friendship. I..” Hob's face softens, he almost melts. “Oh Dream..” Hob grabs his other hand. “I would like for us to..” “Be together? As like.. a couple?” A man can hope, Hob thinks. You never know with Dream, what he really means. Dream smiles, softly. “Yes. A romantic relationship.” 

Hob sighs, smiling. He seems to melt, and leans his forehead against Dream’s chest, chuckling. “God.. that was smooth. So..” He pulls back, to look Dream in the eyes. He looks rather surprised with Hob’s touchiness, but not disturbed. “Could.. Could I possibly.. Kiss you, then?” Dream’s lips part, and they catch Hob’s attention, his eyes lingering there.

“I would like that, Hob.” Hob untangles one of his hands from Dream’s, brings it up to his face. He traces patterns over the smooth skin there, relishing in the way Dream’s eyes flutter shut, and he presses a soft kiss against his lips, lingering a little. He tips his forehead against Dream’s, and sighs. 

“You literally have no idea for how long I wanted to do that.” He chuckles, and Dream opens his eyes. “It might have been centuries since I have been kissed. Millenia since I have been kissed so.. Lovingly.” Dream admits, and Hob pouts a little as he says it, bringing his hands up to Dream’s face. “That’s terrible, duck. You deserve it, really do, you-” “I would like to discuss this at a later time. For now, would you kiss me again?” Dream looks almost scared to ask, and Hob’s heart breaks. “Of course, duck. Always. Would kiss you always.”

Dream closes the gap now, and their lips slot together like two tectonic plates, creating volcanoes in Hob’s brain and ravines in Dream’s stomach. Dream tastes like lightning, Hob notices when he slips his tongue inside, like a thunderstorm, like the smell of wet concrete. It’s jarring, almost, but Hob has always loved nature, loved sitting outside in the rain while his mates cowered in their bunks. He can love Dream like that, he thinks. Love him even though he’s terrifying, love him even though he can be destructive. Hob will keep him from destroying himself. 

Dream’s cold hand slides in Hob’s hair, tangling his fingers in the strands, and Hob lets out an embarrassing sound. Dream pulls back. “Are you all right?” he asks, concerned, and Hob chuckles slightly. “Yeah, duck. M’fine. S’just.. Been a while since I’ve been touched like that as well. You might not believe it, but the life of a history professor isn’t all that exciting. Think.. Think if we do more right now it’s gonna be even more embarrassing for me.”  Dream frowns. “So you would enjoy..” “Maybe going to bed together? Cuddling? Kissing some more, if you want?” Hob slides his hand down Dream’s arm, tangling their fingers together. Dream lets him. “I would like that quite a lot.” “We.. We have all the time in the world to do the rest. For now, I just want to be cosy with you. Want to see how you wake up.” “I do not sleep. Not like you.” Hob chuckles. “Then pretend, for my sake.” 

Hob lets his hand slip out of Dream’s, and leads the way towards the bedroom. “Make yourself comfortable.” He says, vaguely gesturing to the bed. “Gonna brush my teeth, have a wee.” Hob strips out of his shirt and trousers, and notices Dream’s gaze lingers, not with hunger, but with fascination. Hob slips into the bathroom, and quickly does what he announced. When he comes back Dream is still sitting on the side of the bed, his hands politely in his lap. Still in that fucking trenchcoat.

Hob walks over, and motions for Dream to stand again. He lifts his hands, and fiddles with the first button of his coat. “That alright?” He says, and Dream nods. Hob struggles with the second button, and Dream just waves his hand, letting the coat dissolve into dreamstuff. Hob gasps a little, and that amuses Dream. 

Hob helps him out of his shirt, and watches as he slips out of his trousers. They’re both in their pants now, letting the other map out their body with his gaze. “Shall we..?” He says, nodding to the bed, and they both slide under the covers, facing each other.

Hob reaches out first, grazing his fingertips over Dream’s collarbones, then up his shoulder, down his arm. “You are cold.” Hob notices. “Does it bother you?” He traces back up his arm, cupping his cheek so softly, like he’s made of porcelain. “Not at all, duck. I’m always running hot.. It would be comfortable to be with you.” Dream smiles softly, and reaches out, mapping out the scars on Hob’s chest, running his fingers through the hair there, then back up, to tangle in his hair, bringing him close and letting their lips lock. 

The kiss is soft, gentle, almost lazy in the way that there is no rush, there never is with them. Like Hob said, they have all the time in the world. They can figure stuff out in their own time. They might be a god and a witch, an idea and an immortal, but right now, they’re two men, cuddling together in bed, so in love there aren’t really words for it. 

——————————————————————

In the next few months, Dream comes over almost daily, sleeps over about as much. They figure out a rhythm. Dream doesn’t eat, but enjoys watching Hob cook. Dream is enthralled by the television, and his favourite show is The Golden Girls, although he’d never admit it.  Hob likes to offer Dream tea, and he actually drank it once or twice. Hob counts it as a win. 

“My darling..” 

And then there’s that. Hob started calling Dream ‘duck’ as soon as he could, but it took Dream a while to warm up to the fact that he is allowed to love Hob visually. 

Hob hums in response from the kitchen. “Come here.” Dream murmurs, and Hob walks towards him, his shirt covered in flour. “What are you making?” “Cookies, duck.” Dream hums, and pats next to him on the couch. “Come here.” He says again, and Hob nods. “One second, duck, gonna wash my hands real quick.” Hob disappears into the kitchen, and comes back a moment later, cleaner now.

Hob walks to sit next to Dream, but he  manhandles him into his lap. “Oh!” Dream hums, nuzzles his neck. “You are beautiful, my love.” Hob chuckles. “Mh, thank you, duck.” 

“You have been having daydreams, my love.” Dream can feel Hob’s cheeks heat up. “You can see those?” “It is effortful, but yes. You are worth the effort.” Dream presses a kiss to Hob's jaw. “One daydream keeps resurfacing. You.. you want me to fuck you.” Hob lets out a strangled sound. “I.. well yeah.” “You want me to push you into the mattress. Touch you all over. Do not leave a part of you unkissed, unloved.” 

Hob hides his face in Dream’s neck, presses a lazy kiss there. “Yeah. I do. But.. I don't know if you want to as well.” “I would love to, Hob. After dinner, perhaps?” He says it like he's talking about dessert, not about taking Hob apart piece by piece. Hob sighs, and it turns into a chuckle.

“I would love that.” He says, and presses another soft kiss in the crook of Dream’s neck. This time, Dream shivers. “Is that good?” Hob whispers, and kisses him there again, scraping his teeth over his skin a little, and Dream hums, a low rumble Hob can feel. “Are you trying to seduce me?” Dream rumbles. “Mh. Haven’t I already?” Hob kisses his neck again. “Quite successfully, might I add. God, you’re beautiful.” Hob fits his teeth over Dream’s Adam’s apple, and he grumbles, grabbing Hob’s arse and standing up, manhandling him to the bedroom, dropping him on the bed.

“You tease me, Hob Gadling.” Hob looks up at him, eyes full of admiration. “Sure do, duck.” Dream crawls over him, their faces inches from each other, as Dream runs his finger over Hob’s chest, turning his jumper into dreamstuff. “That was my favourite-” “I will make you another one. A better one.” “Dream..” “Please. Shut up.” And he kisses him, and it’s thunderstorms and electricity all over again, like someone put a spark to Hob’s brain. Dream lets Hob’s other clothes disappear, and runs his hands down his body, still kissing him. Hob lets out a “hmph-” tugging at Dream’s clothes, and they disappear just as easily. 

“After dinner, right?” Hob jokes as Dream kisses down his body, and his chuckle turns into a sigh as Dream finds the sensitive spot in his neck. “How could I wait when you tease me like that, my love?” Hob groans. “You are.. Insatiable..” “Tell me your daydreams, love.” “You know..” “Tell me. I want to hear it. What do you want, my darling?” Dream is nuzzling his stomach now, and Hob smiles down at the sight, Dream’s pale fingers splayed out over the soft arch of his middle, his plump lips pressed against his skin where an especially big scar disappears into Hob’s trousers.. 

“Want you to fuck me, Dream..” Hob throws his head back into the pillows as Dream sucks a bruise into the skin of his hip. “Want you to eat me out first, is that alright?” “You are not telling me everything, my Hob. You want me to push you down, ‘face down, arse up’, as you think so unceremoniously. Would you want me to do that now?” Hob sighs again, lets out a “God yes please holy fuck-” and Dream flips him effortlessly onto his stomach, spreading his hand between his shoulderblades, pushing him down.

“You are like the sun, Hob. It took me a while to look at you, but you have so many marks, from so many centuries of living.” Dream slides his hands down Hob’s sides, down to his arse where he unmakes his boxers as well. Dream cups his arse with his hands, and Hob sighs, his face pushed into the pillows. “Please..” 

Dream spreads his cheeks, and lets out a huff. “You..” “Mh, fuck- Did I forget to tell you?” Hob lets himself drop fully onto the bed, and turns around to face Dream. “I’m trans. I have a cunt. Is that.. A problem?” Dream lets out another huff. “Not at all, my love. Not at all.” He nuzzles Hob’s hip, fits his lips over his hip bone. “I was just surprised, you have never mentioned it before.” “Not something you go advertising around, duck.” “Mh. That is a shame.” Dream wraps his hand around Hob’s thigh, and lifts it so it’s resting on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to the inside of it. 

“Is this okay?” He asks, and Hob melts at the sight, Dream’s eyes shining so brightly, asking for approval at every move.. “It’s perfect, duck. This is good. Please..” Hob cups Dream’s face, and then moves it so his fingers are tangled in his hair, pushing him towards his cunt. Dream shoots look at him, and darts his pink tongue over his lips, making Hob groan. 

Hob throws his head back, tangling his fingers in Dream’s hair as he finally does what he’s been wanting him to do for centuries. Hob babbles, keens, and Dream hums low in his throat, licking and sucking like it’s his last fucking meal. 

“Dream, fuck.. Please-” Hob hooks his knee behind Dream’s neck, pushing him closer. “Fuck.. That’s good- Please..” Hob’s back arches, pushing himself further into Dream’s mouth. 

The sensations are almost too much, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure that makes his head spin. Dream’s hands roam, squeezing and caressing, adding to the overwhelming pleasure. Hob’s moans grow louder, echoing in the room, a testament to Dream’s skill. Hob vaguely thinks about where he could’ve picked it up, but then Dream slides two fingers into Hob’s hole, shutting his mind off effectively. “So.. Fucking close, duck..” He groans, and Dream lets out a low chuckle, the sound going straight south for Hob. 

“Dream..” “What would you like, my love?” Dream pulls back slightly, and leans his cheeks against Hob’s inner thigh. Hob looks down, and Dream’s lips and chin are covered in his slick. “Would you come right now? Or let me indulge in you even more, and fill you up, taking you the way you have been dreaming about?” A small smirk plays at Dream’s lips, and Hob fists the sheets, letting go and gripping again, trying to ground himself before even trying to properly form a thought. Dream tilts his head in question.

“Fuck, love.. Need you to give me a break after you suck my soul out through my cunt, goddammit..” He chuckles slightly, and Dream does as well, pressing a soft and wet kiss to Hob’s thigh, the hair there tickling his face. “What will it be, my love?” Hob sighs, pets through Dream’s hair while he thinks. 

“I.. We have all the time in the world, right?” He asks, a soft smile on his face at the sigh of Dream’s eyes closed, enjoying the feeling. He hums. “Then we have actual infinite opportunities to do what I wanted to do. Right now.. I just want you to fuck me, duck. But I want to look at you.” Dream is smirking now, and crawls over Hob again, dissolving his pants into dreamstuff in the same movement. 

“Quite the romantic..” Dream hums as he kisses at Hob’s jaw, who goes slack like putty at the touch. “I would love to fuck you, darling. Slow?” He mumbles, and Hob nods breathlessly, he cannot believe his luck, still can’t quite believe Dream is here. “Yeah, duck.. Want you to take me apart, please.” 

“Then I will do so, my love.” He kisses Hob, slowly, and slides inside him with a sigh. Hob throws his head back into the pillows, his lips slipping from Dream’s, so he settles for pressing his lips to Hob’s neck again, starting to move slowly, deliberately, watching every microexpression on Hob’s face as he does so. Dream sighs as he moves, focussed on Hob, trying not to pay attention to the growing tug in his gut. 

First, his lips part in a silent moan, then they quiver as Dream slides a hand down his body to rub Hob’s cock while he makes love to him. Then Hob almost squeals in delight, biting his lip to not make too much noise. “Duck.. Please- I’m gonna-” “Yes..” It’s almost a hiss, and Dream picks up the pace slightly, the soft sounds of them panting and skin slapping skin filling the room. 

Hob feels electric, on fire, but also calm, like the eye of a tornado. It’s like Dream has finally found the off-switch to his brain, the only thing he can think of is Dream, Dream, Dream. 

He wraps his arms around his lover, pulling him close when he comes, and if he sheds a few tears, Dream didn’t notice, he’s too busy creating novas in his eyes, his pupils blown so wide his eyes look pitch black. His lips are parted, kissed pink and glossy, and he feels so human, so vulnerable, so one with Hob. He collapses on top of him, panting.

——————————————————————

After, they lay in bed, cuddled up and cosy, warm under the blankets. Dream is resting, and a sunbeam caresses his face, filtering through his hair. His head is laying on Hob’s stomach, warm and happy. Hob’s cookies are long forgotten, the dough still laying on the kitchen counter where he left it. Dream doesn’t snore, but hums slowly, a rhythm that lulls Hob in and out of The Dreaming.

“We should get out of bed, perhaps.” Dream opens one eye to look at him, and frowns. “I do not see the need for that. We are happy, we are together.” Hob smiles softly, and sinks his fingers into Dream’s hair, earning a low hum from him. “We have other things to do, maybe?” Hob suggests, but he knows he’ll lose this argument. He doesn’t really care that much. “Mh. We, my darling, have all the time in the world.” 

~~~

@rainy-days-and-nights @fellshish you might like this

[chrysanthemumskies]

some trans!hob doodles (and meowpheus)

[lucienne-thee-librarian]

Just to minimize my chances of being genuinely misunderstood OR deliberately misinterpreted, and crucified for something I don't think, How Dare You Say We Piss on the Poor website etc...I'm gonna say this right up top. I absolutely understand why people don't like Thessaly as a character, if anyone does completely unironically stan her as some kind of feminist hero who Did Nothing Wrong uwu, I personally see it as a bit of a red flag. I don't like terfs real or fictional. In a vacuum, I could even completely sympathize and agree with the people who want her cut.

HOWEVER.

It's really something to me to see people clamoring for her to be cut, because she carries and expressed an ugly indefensible prejudice (transphobia) in words towards (1) person. Meanwhile Hob fucking Gadling enacted one of the most violent forms of antiblack racism I can even think of against thousands no, millions of people, the ripple effects of which still affect billions more today. Just a little light idk, profiting off the fucking slave trade and had to be told by someone else that it was bad...and he's a fan favorite.

People are saying Thessally being Dream's love interest reflects badly on him or is somehow endorsement by the narrative (?!?!?!?!?!? Didn't she (SPOILER ALERT AS IF IT MATTERS BY NOW) help participate in his extended assisted suicide? She's not painted as a great person to me just another character what are y'all SMOKING whatever fine. It's fine this is fine.) But shipping Dream with Mr. Former Slaver is not only not verboten or frowned on widely in the fandom but its THEE most popular pairing by far. So...why the difference?

Like where are the same fans who are saying Thessaly shouldn't just be more clearly shown to be wrong, she shouldn't even be in the show at all when it comes to Hobert's crimes??? Yes, transphobia is indefensible. Isn't racism?

And I hear the cries of "it's fiction!!!" Already rallying (if anyone who needs to hear this even sees it lol) to which I say:

HORSESHIT. I KNOW you don't, deep down, really agree because if you did, why get upset about Thessaly being included??? Why does what she said to one person matter if it's Just Fiction You Guyze. Fictional characters are allowed to do bad things and fiction isn't reality sweaty....except when you only apply that standard to fictional racists you like and simp for, but fictional transphobes you don't are SO HARMFUL they shouldn't even be portrayed in fiction.

Like. Give me a big fat BREAK. This looks like bullshit, no? I'm sorry, but I'd love for someone to try and give any other explanation besides one personally offended you or hit home for you, and the other doesn't.

And if that bothers you or you feel like it says something negative about you...idk what you want me to say??? You can't control how other people perceive you and that's how people outside this majority-of-the-fandom bubble see it. You don't need to respond, I just wish and genuinely hope this gives you a moment to think about why fans who ARE bothered by both (and not just paying lip service to being bothered by the one but railing against the other) are so frustrated with people saying everyone is welcome but in practice only bending over backwards for the comfort and emotions of themselves, and people they can easily relate to.

You don't have to like Thessaly (I don't. I find her an interesting antagonist, I don't stan her. And frankly imo likability is not. the point of her character) but you'll pardon me for feeling more than a bit cynical and side eying people's motivations for what seems a...pretty obvious double standard, on what fictional crimes related to real world issues matter to y'all, and which clearly don't. Either actually bring the same energy to the table for fictional people who committed atrocities, even if against a group you're not part of and thus don't feel the need to empathize with, or just carry on, but accept that you don't have the SLIGHTEST room to talk about cutting characters who do immoral things. And you also need to accept that you look like a hypocrite when you do.

[cuubism]

some canon-verse trans Hob for the lovely @five-and-dimes who recently got top surgery! 🥳🥰 congratulations, I'm truly so happy for you, my friend. please accept this humble offering

--

“So, it actually started on a dare,” Hob says, on the day he tells Dream the story of him. Or of this part of him, anyway.

Normally, Hob gets a bit guarded the first time he tells someone he’s trans. It’s hard to predict with absolute certainty how people will react, especially ones he’s just become romantically involved with. He’s had it go poorly, to say the least, in the past.

He doesn’t feel that way with Dream. It’s not because there’s so much trust between them—they’re still new, after all. No, it’s something about Dream himself. For all his prickly and standoffish nature, being close to him feels like sinking into a warm lake, into a dark sleep where secrets and hidden wishes float up like glowing reeds to the surface. Deep, personal feelings feel safe with Dream; he cradles them in his hands and soothes them. Or that’s how it feels, when Hob is touching him.

Personification of dreams, indeed.

“A dare?” Dream echoes.

“Sort of," Hob says. "Got frustrated with people saying women should or shouldn’t do this or that or the other thing, so I decided if they felt so strongly about it I’d just be a man. Moved somewhere no one knew me, dressed differently, got stronger, practiced the sword—and that was that. No one seemed to care much, once you were at war. So long as you could swing a sword and not get yourself killed.”

“A choice, then,” Dream says. He’s listening very intently, hands folded on his knees, untouched tea on the coffee table before him.

“At first. Was only after I’d been living that way for a few decades—before and after we met—that I realized while there might be a handful of women out there living as men for the freedom of it, that they didn’t all like it. Given the choice they’d rather just be women in a more equal world. You know?”

Dream hums in understanding.

“But I didn’t want to go back,” Hob continues. “I felt like... who I'd become was the truth of me all along.”

“Identity, while not wholly immutable, is resilient against adversity and circumstance,” says Dream. “You found what your heart wanted you to be, if in a circuitous manner.”

“You seem very unbothered by it,” Hob observes, sipping his tea.

Dream frowns. “Why would I be bothered by it?”

“Dunno.” Apparently he can’t fully shake that this’ll put a wedge in us feeling. “People sometimes are. Feel deceived, or something like that. So they say.”

“If they are deceived, it is by their own assumptions,” Dream says, with disdain. “You should be as you dream yourself, Hob. No more nor less. Put aside these petty physical trappings.”

“I do actually have to live in these ‘physical trappings’ even if you don’t, you silly thing.” He can’t help laughing. “Besides, I rather like being some kind of living creature in the world, rather than what? A ghost? Best I can do is make this body as close to how it should be as possible.”

Hob’s come to like his body, for the most part, in the form that he’s made it. He didn’t always. But he needs a body of some kind to be alive, and he likes being alive. So what he couldn’t change, he made peace with.

Besides, they have hormone treatments nowadays. Brilliant stuff. Makes it so much better.

“Anyway, now you know. I wanted you to. Since we’re together.” It’s still a marvel. Together.

“Thank you,” says Dream, with evident sincerity. “It is a privilege to be gifted your secrets.”

“Not really a secret, but I get what you mean.” He takes Dream’s hand, just to touch him, and admits, “Telling it to you is like… I don’t know. Feels like when I was younger and first admitted out loud, ‘I’m a man. I want to stay like this.’”

It hasn’t been a proper secret in a very long time. But giving it to Dream is like the freedom of releasing a held breath, even so.

“I am the harbor and cradle of dreams,” Dream says in reply. He traces his fingers over Hob’s. Does Dream’s strange form just spring from the ether? Hob wonders. Or does he have to choose it? The way Hob chose his? “Dreams of being and becoming… these are most precious for they grow from tough soil. I can only protect them, I cannot create them. You must do that. And I expect that were I to find you in the Dreaming, there would be a fantastic garden there, indeed.”

Dream himself is the most fantastical thing. “Well, darling, just know your work is appreciated.”

Dream’s lips tip up in a tiny smile. When he meets Hob’s gaze again, his eyes have gone dark and starry. He folds Hob into a hug, and—

oh, it’s like being hugged by the universe itself.

Hob feels the light breeze of a warm dark night, when he’d lain by the dying fire in a war camp in the French countryside, and looked up at a million stars and first whispered to himself what if this is really who I am? Dream is that breeze and those stars. The dying embers that had lit him as he’d run his hands over his body and felt it differently than he ever had before, and been terrified because what would it mean?—but also thrilled and alive. Dream is the night wrapping around him in that moment, the night that was listening to his dreams no matter how quietly he admitted them, Dream is that and more and the voice in his heart telling him it would be okay.

A younger, more uncertain Hob would have needed this. Hob now is older, and he already knows who he is and what he wants, but he falls into Dream’s embrace all the same. A tear slips from his eye, and Dream kisses his cheek, wiping the tear away with his tongue before leaning their heads together.

“I could craft you any body you wanted in the Dreaming,” he says lowly. “However I think the one you have made with your own hands is more remarkable.”

Oh, God, he’s going to tear up again. “Dream, you are the most beautiful, wonderful thing.”

Dream hums in pleasure at the words, and lets Hob hold him close, lets him cradle his head to his chest, a dream kept close to his heart. One that he knew as soon as he saw it walk into the White Horse. Sooner even than he truly knew himself.

Then Dream looks up at him with a hopeful expression. “With these truths revealed, are we able to be intimate?”

Hob laughs so hard he has to tip his head back against the couch. “Wow. One track mind with you, isn’t it? I spill my heart and that’s what I get?”

Dream grumbles, tucking his face in against Hob’s neck to press his lips to Hob’s throat. “I find myself impatient of late.”

“Knew all along you were only with me for my body.” He’s grinning, though. Can’t stop.

“Well. Considering it is such a lovely one.” He plucks at Hob’s shirt buttons. Lecherous little nightmare.

It feels fucking good, though, to be desired.

“C’mere, then,” he says, and drags Dream into his lap.

Dream settles there with a purr, starts playing with Hob’s hair, but says, “I would not truly derail this moment, nor distract from your feelings if you do not wish it.”

“Oh, I wish it. You’ve no idea how much I want you right now. You’re like a prize.” He cradles Dream’s beloved face between his hands. “Stick around for long enough and you’ll get the most incredible Dream at the end of it.”

“Or at the beginning,” Dream says, and Hob’s heart swells so much to hear him voice that that he has to kiss him.

When he does, Dream makes a low, pleased sound, settling deeper in his lap. Yes, this moment, this life, is certainly the prize for all of those years hanging onto those dreams:

the dream of his lover

and the one of himself.

[meadowziplines]

Snippets of WIPs requiring at least 3 sentences added on, per the poll.

bookbirds polycule (qpr dream/jessamy)

Four Months Ago The door closed behind Burgess with a soft click, the external latch scraping a second later. Dream choked on air, trying to keep his breathing steady in vain, as he looked down at the computer screen. Then at the darkening sky from the narrow window. 

trans dream abortion fic

"That is a large amount of chocolate," Dream observed, lips quirking from where he lay in bed. He had medical orders to take it easy for the rest of the day, and Hob seemed to have taken this mission quite seriously.  "I also have your favourite hot chocolate," Hob said, pulling out a large tin, and Dream stared. "You are a saint sometimes, Hob Gadling."  "Only sometimes?"  "The other times you are a scoundrel and a rascal."

damsel in distress/self-rescuing princess

from #3 of the 4+1

Dream whines, head buried in Hob's shoulder, as the tech swabs the crook of his arm.  "I don't… I don't." His voice is higher than usual, and Hob holds him tighter. Poor thing.   "Be over in a sec, sweeting," Hob soothes.  Dream is getting his blood drawn to check his vitamin levels, being prone to Vit D deficiency in winter. Dream also faints at the sight of his own blood, and becomes queasy around needles in general. That was how they'd met, his now-fiance cutting his hand and then fainting at the queer art fair.   Hence Hob holding him. He will hold him for a while after, too. If Dream stands up too soon after this, he might pass out. While Dream is amused at the idea of swooning into Hob's arms like a fainting maiden, Hob has convinced him it is probably better for everyone's health and sanity if he avoids fainting in the first place. 

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | The Sandman - Dream x Listener SFW Calling To Dream When You're Regressed

[M4A] [Established platonic or romantic relationship] [Regression comfort (left vague as to whether it's age regression or pet regression)] [Left vague enough that the listener can you or Hob]

I'm so happy Dream was finally requested again, I love doing his voice so much, something about voicing him just makes me excited and perhaps gender euphoric. Based on a Patreon request. Not That Eli asked "I would love to see a Dream regression audio, whether little, or puppy, or kitten (hello, king of cats!)". AceofHearts asked"A regression audio with Dream 💞 I bet he could make the listener feel so small and safe if they were regressed in the Dreaming."

.

Old public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[gabessquishytum]

Just been thinking a lot about cat hybrid Dream as of late. Various assortments of thoughts I've had since Halloween.

He chirps when he's filled just right. Not consciously, just a thing he does.

His pussy gets so wet. Just so wet. Drips everywhere. Hob needs to take special care to wash his inner thighs or else the fur gets matted. (Of course Dream makes Hob do it, he's a spoiled little kitty that would wail about not liking water if Hob doesn't help him.)

Half the time when he goes to suck Hob off he ends up just nuzzling and scenting it if Hob doesn't put a hand in his hair to guide him.

Every time he goes into heat, he makes Hob take time off work just to stay in bed with him. Even though he's really fine, he's been through many cycles before, he'll act like it's the most unbearable thing ever just for his attention.

Absolutely scents the fuck out of Hob. Period. He goes to work and everybody knows he's taken.

Hob handfeeds him food all the time. It's like the only way he'll eat. Hob also has to coax Dream into taking any medication, including his meds for his chronic pain, meaning every morning begins with him trying to bribe Dream with various assortments of sweets and breakfast dishes.

He hisses any time Hob tries to move Dream's favorite blanket from wherever he left it. Even if it's in the middle of the couch and Hob just wants to move it to the side. No. Not on Dream's watch.

Dream obviously is a trained service cat (they're each other's service animals tbh) so every time Hob works himself into a panic or depressive episode, Dream tackles him and just purrs as aggressively as he can on top of him until he's ok.

He also takes plenty of naps on Hob, sometimes also convincing him to nap too.

- 🕷

I love catboy Dream so much okay

Of course he's a total menace. He really likes toys: he has a special toy raven which is attached to string and is meant to be dangled for him to swat at, but he NEVER lets Hob dangle it, raven toy is for cuddles only. However the pair of wind-up false teeth that Hob got as a joke are pounced on with impunity.

Every time Hob gets a delivery, Dream sits inside the cardboard box and refuses to move until he's coaxed out with treats.

He is however a very competent service cat; he brings Hob his meds when they're required, he helps with Hob’s phobias (mainly water related stuff). He regulates Hob SO well when he's spiralling into a crisis.

He's also a snotty little pillow princess and he will frequently just present himself arse-up to be fingered and fucked. Hob could swear that Dream has napped through foreplay. He makes Hob do all the work, but goddammit does he have the prettiest, gushiest, tightest little cunt. Such a pretty little nightmare.

[delta-pavonis]

Drabble: Red Dress

Dreamling (vampire!Hob/AFAB trans!Dream AU) || Rated E || just under 1k words || complete

Alternate Universe - Magic, vampire!Hob, trans!Dream, AFAB Dream, established relationship, oral sex, cunnilingus, menstrual sex, graphic descriptions of blood, discussion of breeding, discussion of fertility, discussion of a trans man getting pregnant, kissing with menstrual blood on face and lips Read on AO3 or under the cut

NOTES: First, I was trying to figure out a title for this drabble and stumbled across the poem at the start. While I know that the title of the poem is "What Do Women Want?" and that clashes with AFAB trans Dream, I just loved the sentiment in the latter half of the poem so much that I needed to include it. Second, no, stopping one's menstruation via pharmaceutical means does NOT make the flow heavier. I made that up here for plot purposes.

I want that red dress bad. I want it to confirm your worst fears about me, to show you how little I care about you or anything except what I want. When I find it, I’ll pull that garment from its hanger like I’m choosing a body to carry me into this world, through the birth-cries and the love-cries too, and I’ll wear it like bones, like skin, it’ll be the goddamned dress they bury me in. from “What Do Women Want?” by Kim Addonizio

When Hob brings his head up from between Dream’s legs the image is a new definition of obscene. 

His face is smeared with fluids from his cheekbones down, everything from pearly delicate pinks to the deep sensual red of a rich cabernet sauvignon. It crosses the arch of his nose, just below where cartilage meets bone, and reaches almost back to his ears. Bits of his short beard clump together into red-black wet points and crimson drips from from the teeth of his open mouth to color his panting tongue scarlet and rose-pink. 

Hob’s eyes are so much darker than usual, burgundy irises glinting with the shine of a ruby. He smiles and licks his teeth, emphasizing the pointed canines, then also cleans his lips. “Exquisite,” he purrs.

Dream falls back into the pillows with a whimper, “Holy fuck.” He flings an arm over his face, even the meager light from the candles on the table beside the bed too much additional stimulus. “Hob, please.”

A couple gentle licks between Dream’s folds make him tremble before he gets a response. “Yes, dearest?” How such a creature can sound so innocent Dream will never understand.

He realizes that he doesn’t know what he is begging for, he just lets his legs fall a little more open with a plaintive whine.

Hob’s kisses leave a wet trail on the inside of his thighs. “Oh, I know, sweet thing. I know,” he practically coos. “Do you even know what it is like to come without my bite anymore?” He nips at Dream’s skin but not enough to come close to breaking it; Dream sobs in frustration. “It seems that I can get enough blood this way to manage an erection. You have used your magic to hold static your moonphase for so long that you are bleeding profusely. You have prepared your body for me perfectly, my sweet sorcerer. I will have no problem drilling your cunt into screaming submission.”

Dream moans at the thought. “Then why now? Why wait until now to ask me to stop taking my potions?” he gasps. It has been almost a year since Dream found the emaciated vampire chained up amongst the other ‘oddities’ in Burgess’ collection, freed him along with the others who he was actually there for. Matthew had declared him insane for even going near the vampire, Lucienne had decried his willingness to risk the safety of the Dreaming for a vampire could learn much by taking one’s lifeblood. 

But Dream had been captivated even then. The vampire’s dull, almost lifeless gaze, had called to him. Desire had written him off as enthralled. Perhaps he was.

Hob doesn’t answer immediately, sucks and licks until he has taken at least another three mouthfuls and Dream’s eyes have started to fill with tears in his frustration with the lack of consistent attention to his clit. “I was waiting for a special occasion.” He hums, kissing below Dream’s navel. “It has been a long recovery from my imprisonment. I had been damaged more than I was willing to tell even you, dear one.” 

That gets the sorcerer’s attention and he is up on his elbows so that he can look at Hob properly. “Hob?”

Hob doesn’t meet his eyes at first, too busy nuzzling into the lowest part of Dream’s abdomen, kissing it reverently, smearing bloody fluids there and then licking them up. When he looks up to Dream his eyes are dark pits of vicious hunger, fully black from one end to the other. “I am healed completely. Now. I can fill you,” he bites, harder but still not hard enough to break skin, “with my seed.”

“What?” Dream gasps, breathless. He cannot possibly mean…

“I would breed you,” Dream interrupts Hob with a high-pitched cry, “my sweet sorcerer. If you will it. You could carry our children. Not turned against their will, but born to the night.” He nuzzles Dream’s belly again. “And most likely daywalkers as well, given your magic. How powerful it is. How it reaches out for me.” 

Dream never thought… never in his wildest fantasies that it could… that he… “Fuck.”

Hob crawls up his lover’s body and looks down at him, expression fond. “Only if you wish it. But you would be resplendent,” he presses their stomachs together, “rounded with child.” He slides down and nuzzles the pectoral muscles modified with magic long ago. “And never would you need feel lacking for not coming into milk, for our children would take to blood without hesitation. Either yours… or mine.”

Oh God. An image of Hob, infant in his arms – their child in his arms – taking nourishment from his body, sustained by his body as much as Dream’s. It is surreal. It is fantastical. It is everything.

Dream pulls Hob up by his hair and kisses him, uncaring that he is tasting his own menstrual blood. A squeak of surprise catches in Hob’s throat, but it is only a moment before he groans and curls around Dream’s tongue with his own. 

“I don’t know,” Dream pants into Hob’s mouth, both their lips darkened with blood now, “if I am even still fertile.”

Hob smiles, which is most certainly not the reaction Dream expected. “Well, it will certainly be fun to find out.”

[theheadlessphilosopher]

Fem! Dreamling Drabble

1989 was the first time Hob Gadling had ever really thought about her true identity. Sure, she’d had fleeting thoughts here and there throughout the centuries, she was well-versed in creating new identities after all, but she hadn’t really thought about it. That night though, after the bartender told her about the White Horse’s impending closure and she was left to consider that she may never see the one constant in her immortal life again, she finally thought about who Hob Gadling really was. 

She had lived so many lives up to that point, but besides a few standouts, nothing ever really felt like her. It wasn’t as though she was oblivious to the existence of trans people. She’d been around a long time and had met, fucked, and loved many different people, but she’d never thought about her gender– had never even considered it an option. 

Now though, after living as a woman for almost 30 years, she feels truly alive. Her lust for life hasn’t been sated— far from it, but for the first time in a long time (or maybe ever) she feels grounded in her body. 

So imagine her surprise when 33 years past their planned meeting, she hears a familiar yet completely new voice greet her with a name she hasn’t heard in a long, long time. 

“Hello, Hob Gadling.”

Her Stranger has changed but is still so very the same as she towers over Hob. Though angular and delicate, she radiates power and strength. Her presence demands attention and Hob is more than happy to give it to her. Dark hair brushes her shoulders in gravity-defying curls and her eyes twinkle as though they contain all the stars in the galaxy. Hob can’t help but follow the plunging neckline of her blouse down to her sternum, more skin than her Stranger had ever shown before. It’s no small effort to bring her gaze back up to meet her friend's. 

“You’re late.” 

Tag List:

@cuubism

@pintobordeaux

[aquilaafterdark]

smapril 20

Day 20  flirting | playboy | "You really are just bad ideas, wrapped inside a pretty body." wheeee prompts by @staroftheendless <3 <3 tags: oral sex, hookup, trans!Dream of the Endless, bottom growth both dick and words like pussy and clit are used to refer to Dream's anatomy in this fic!

Hob Gadling, notorious playboy, sidles up to Morpheus in the bar. He’s inclined to tell him to piss off, that he’s trying to enjoy his night without some man trying to pick him up, but one look into his eyes and Morpheus is frozen. There’s the predatory glint, sure, but beneath the façade Morpheus sees a more sensitive side to this guy.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Hob whispers, his breath hot on Morpheus’s ear. He understands why so many people have willingly had their hearts broken by this man. “Buy you a drink?”

Morpheus nods, gesturing to the empty martini glass on the table. Hob rests his hand on his lower back and leads him to the bar.

“Dirty martini, please,” Morpheus asks the bartender. Hob tells him to add it to his tab.

Drink in hand and Hob’s hand creeping toward his ass, they return to their spot. Dream takes a long sip from the drink, throwing back his head to expose the long lines of his neck. Hob’s hand finally dips into his back pocket at the display.

Morpheus steps even closer, pressing into the heat of his body now. He feels the hand in his pocket grip an handful of his ass, beginning to knead what little flesh is there.

“Come home with me,” Morpheus pleads, pushing his hips into Hob’s side. He bites his lips and bats his eyelashes for good measure, satisfied when Hob’s pupils blow wide. He can give as good as he gets despite what people think about his icy demeanor.

“You really are just bad ideas, wrapped inside a pretty body. Don’t even know your name, sweet thing.”

Morpheus smirks. “That’s not a no…”

“Yes, you madman. Lead the way.”

They somehow manage to withhold their arousal until they arrive at Morpheus’s flat. When they manage to get inside, Morpheus has just shut the door when Hob drags him toward the couch. He lands on his back, legs splayed open. Hob fits himself between them, making short work of Morpheus’s shoes and trousers, but leaving himself fully dressed. Morpheus peels his shirt off in the meantime, fully exposing himself for this man he knows is bad news.

“My god, you’re beautiful,” Hob says, tracing down the length of Morpheus’s body from the scars below his pecs to his pubic bone. He presses his thumb to his dick, earning a groan and buck of the hips from Morpheus. He dips his head down to bury it in the wet folds before him.

“Been waiting a long time for this, have you?” He dips his tongue into his hole, tasting the tangy slick there. “You taste so good, love. Not sure I’ll be able to stop once I get started.”

The praise is the last straw for Morpheus. He digs a hand into Hob’s long hair, pushing him into his cunt. Hob chuckles, the sound vibrating through him and making him drip even more.

“Don’t worry beautiful, I’ll eat you so good it’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

He licks a stripe up the length of Morpheus’s pussy, tip of his tongue flicking at his clit. He swirls his tongue around his foreskin, then takes the length of him into his mouth. Morpheus clutches at his hair and tugs, getting a groan out of Hob, who doesn’t stop suckling on his cock. It’s almost too much, the pleasure bordering on pain at such worship of the new length.

“Hob—” he gasps, “lower, please!”

Hob obliges, hitting his dick with his nose as he trails down to pay attention to his hole.

“Sensitive, are we? You’ve got such a gorgeous little cock, no surprise it feels so good, darling.” Hob says, right before he plunges his tongue into Morpheus’s pussy.

The slick noises and Hob’s moans as he gluts himself on his hole push him over the edge, grinding into Hob’s face. He licks him through the aftershocks, drinking up the fluids flowing out of him.

Hob emerges from between Morpheus’s legs, beard dripping with a combination of spit and slick. It’s the most attractive thing he’s ever seen, he thinks as he hauls Hob in for a kiss. If he plays his cards right, he may just be the next one in Hob’s trail of broken hearts. That doesn’t seem so bad all of a sudden.