#romcom of my dreams

[littlewinnow]

Wip/sketches of “if Harry lived in godric hollow & Malfoy moved in as his new neighbour” vibes

[jentlemahae]

MARK LEE @ GOOD MYTHICAL MORNING

[valeriianz]

I've had this Dreaming The Proposal AU sitting in my drafts for a while. Then @voukkake comes out with this art and I figured it was time to brush off the dust and share what I'd written lol. This is seriously all I'm going to write so if anyone is interested I'm begging you to pick this up. I'm dying to read Dream awkwardly interacting with Hob's family (also @valiantstarlights suggestion that Betty White is Destiny?? ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT). Anyway...

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

Dream is about to be deported because his visa application has been denied. He is in the middle of a meeting with his lawyers when Hob, his secretary, pops in the room to inform Dream of a very important phone call and Dream comes up with the insane plan to marry Hob to keep his immigration status.

He gestures for Hob to come over and Hob, clueless, wanders into the room and stands next to Dream, who takes him by the arm and tugs him just a little bit further to stand awkwardly close.

Dream announces their engagement and Hob stands there, shell shocked and feels his mouth moving against his will. That yeah, they are getting married. They are in love, sure. It isn’t until they leave the office, following Dream back to his, that Hob’s brain seems to come back online.

“What just happened in there?”

Dream grouses, head down, already back to his work as if nothing happened. Like he didn’t just use Hob as a pawn in his scheme to get around his denied visa application.

“They were going to make Morningstar editor-in-chief.” Is all Dream says, disdain dripping from every word. He still hasn’t looked up.

Hob stands there, still as a statue. His head is swimming with words, with emotions. Anger, disbelief, betrayal… and a small tiny flicker of undeniable interest that he hastily stomps out.

He manages to put the pieces together rather quickly though, while Dream continues sifting through paperwork.

“This is illegal,” Hob manages to croak out, brows furrowing. 

“Oh, please. The government looks for terrorists, not book publishers.” Dream’s head is still down in his paperwork.

Hob blinks, taking a step up to Dream’s desk. “I'm not marrying you.”

“Sure you are.” Dream sets aside a stack of papers and finally gives Hob his attention. “Because if you don't, your dreams of ‘touching millions of lives with the written word’ are dead.” 

Hob’s jaw drops. That was a line, corny as it was, that he’d used in the panel interview for this job. Three years ago.

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

“Were you not in that room? I could get fined, I’ll go to jail over this. If you want me on this deal, you will promote me to editor.”

Without even glancing up from his phone, Dream scoffs.

“Absolutely not.”

“Well then I guess you’re screwed. Buh-bye.” Hob turns with a flourish and has to bite back a grin at how Dream splutters behind him and grabs him by the arm.

“Fine– fine! Editor.” His face seems to go through the five stages of grief. He drops his hold on Hob.

“And You’ll publish my manuscript.” Hob throws in. In for a penny.

Dream’s brows narrow and he shakes as if he’s physically controlling the urge to stamp his foot.

“Sure. I’ll publish your hack manuscript.”

“Good.” Hob slips his hands in his pants pockets, staring at Dream, deciding on one last nail in the coffin.

“Now do it properly.”

Dream cocks an eyebrow. “Do what properly?”

“Propose. Like you mean it.”

Dream’s entire body seizes up, but he manages not to let it show, distracting himself by slipping his phone in the pocket of his expensive slacks and clasping his hands in front of him.

“Will you marry me?”

“No.” Hob, the arrogant bastard, is visibly biting back a smirk. “Say it like you mean it.”

Dream takes a long, steadying breath through his nose.

“Hob Gadling. Will you–”

“And get on your knees.”

Dream absolutely refuses to decipher the thrill that shoots through his body at Hob’s command. Instead he keeps his mask of irritation and indifference on as he scans the crowd around them. They are still outside the courthouse, and the concrete sidewalk is going to potentially tear Dream’s Hugo Boss black wool pants.

So he carefully lowers himself, scowling as the smirk on Hob’s face only widens as Dream slowly settles onto the ground.

Once he’s as comfortable as Dream’s going to get, he clears his throat.

“Hob Gadling,” he glares at his subordinate from under his lashes. “Will you fucking marry me?”

Hob curls his lips in mock consideration, looking up past Dream’s head. He rocks back on his heels and nods with a forlorn sigh.

“Okay.” He still hasn’t met Dream’s gaze. “Could've done without the sarcasm but it will do. See you at the airport tomorrow.” 

And turns and walks away, leaving Dream to fend for himself on the ground.

[goingxmissing]

I know like geographically it does not make any sense but I’m mashing up this costal village place I love with this highland town we used to visit in summers and getting a lando/Oscar summer au. I’m thinking about like bored, teenager Oscar who lives (?) in this tiny seaside town nd works in this old school slightly shitty arcade, fully planning on spending a sweltering summer in his glass box doling out change nd giving the machines the “turn it off nd back on” treatment before he meets city boy Lando who’s there for the summer and fucking bored out his tits with dodgy wifi & no signal. Lando latches onto him as one of the only people there over age 5 and under the age 40 nd spends ages chatting/flirting his way past Oscars deadpan, no interest but hiding a smile interactions until they get a conversation going.

Leads to Lando spending dayyss in the arcade, sometimes playing the penny drop machine but mostly leaning against the glass window chatting. (omg winning like a fucking friendship bracelet or necklace or really cliche koala key chain for Oscar who is like ?? Dude I stock the machines ((but at some point he wins/steals the matching one for Lando))

Ofc Lando has charmed every shopkeeper in the high-street (inc the dog in the sweetie shop) and they get so much freedom bc there is basically no way to get into trouble. I want a summer romance. Long days at the beach, seeing each other shirtless and doing the “boys will be boys” wresting in the (let’s still be realistic, freezing) sea, doing the “is he interested, is he gay???” internal panic. Walking the costal paths and wee lanes and forest paths, talking and laughing. Finally making out in the sand traps on the golf course (maybe they were cutting through and a greenkeeper saw them or they were sitting in the bunker drinking and got interrupted so had to dive on top of each other to hide and end up face to face, staring into each others eyes nd that’s when it happens) I want a love confession in a small, rusty kids play park at 10pm when they’re tipsy off cheap cider and it’s all summer hazy light. I actually want the whole thing in that summer evening light nd blurry sunny Polaroids. That’s the vibe (I’d say like a late 90s/early 00s setting but realistically most seaside towns still have that vibe anyway). ANYWAY that’s my Monday night thoughts ✨✨

OMG ANON 😍😍🥰🥰🧡🧡 I have to publish this because it's sooooo cute I am feeling the summer vibes so hard!

Oscar in his arcade glass box being slowly charmed by chatty/flirty Lando! The summer romance! The wrestling in the freezing cold sea! When I read out the part with the sand traps on the golf course @strawberry-daiquiris screamed! Tipsy off cheap cider 😭 I am going to think about this so long and hard thank you for blessing my inbox with this utter joy.

[bugsbutch]

whatever happens tonight, tedtrent nation... i loved our chats 🫡 and listen, we were not delusional, only hopeful for a story that would make perfect sense, be compelling and fit within the themes of the show, so let's not put ourselves down

that said... yes, this little thing i wrote is just pure self-indulgent romcommunism, not how i actually think/hope the show might end

transcript under the cut

INT. NELSON ROAD - PRESS ROOM

We see journalists filing out after a press event. At the front of the room, standees advertising Trent Crimm’s new book: “The Lasso Way”.

INT. NELSON ROAD - AN UNIDENTIFIED ROOM - CONTINUOUS

TRENT CRIMM is decompressing playing with a fidget toy. An ASSISTANT from his publishing company enters.

TRENT

God, I loathe being on this side of the press room.

ASSISTANT

I'm sorry, Mr. Crimm, but there's one more person who wants to ask you a question.

TRENT

Absolutely not, I’m done talking to the press. I am not fielding yet another “Why did Ted Lasso leave for Kansas so suddenly?”

The Assistant sighs like someone who got roped into participating in some stranger’s corny joke.

ASSISTANT

He told me to tell you he's from Horse & Hound.

TRENT

I don't-

Trent freezes as he recognises the reference to Notting Hill. He frowns. Surely not…?

ASSISTANT (O.S.)

He's waiting in the press room.

But Trent is already leaving the room in a hurry.

INT. NELSON ROAD - PRESS ROOM - CONTINUOUS

TED LASSO is sitting in the empty room in Trent's old spot, looking down at the book in his hands. We hear the door click. 

TRENT

(softly)

Ted.

Ted looks up and smiles. His hand shoots up in the air. 

TED

Oh! Mr. Crimm! Here!

Trent ducks his head with a smile, instantly disarmed, and plays along. He sits at the table.

TRENT

Yes, the gentleman in the second row. I like your moustache.

Ted stands up.

TED

(a little flustered)

Oh, thank you, sir. Ted Lasso, Horse & Hound. So do I have this right: shortly after meeting this clueless American, you upended your personal life, and later blew up your whole career for him as well, then proceeded to follow him for a year writing a book, after which he suddenly left with a sorry excuse of a goodbye. And that guy only realized what it all meant to you, and… and what you meant to him, after he read the dedication you wrote in this book that you sent to him.

TRENT

Have you got a question in there, Ted?

TED

Yeah...

(a little nervous, but smiling)

Can I take you out to dinner, Trent?

TRENT

(matching Ted’s smile)

Yes you can, Ted.

A romantic song starts playing. They keep smiling at each other like they’re the only two people in the room (and they are, but that’s besides the point).

FIN.

[spn-lesbian]

Cas: It's hard being the most responsible member of the family sometimes, but I love my husband and kids and that's what matters-

Jack: Cas! Dean and Claire tried making ramen in the coffee pot and broke everything!

Cas:

[donutcats]

i want s2 to involve kitty learning her roommate for the new semester (since part of her scholarship parole is not staying in the boys dorm) is yuri, and when she tells the boys this, with the Most plastic smile on her face because she’s kind of maybe freaking out; all three of her boys just make the MOST faces. dae grimaces and q’s jaw drops and minho just starts Laughing. minho tells her that she’s absolutely screwed because she has to live with the object of her affections and TRUST HIM it sucks. dae has to agree. q has also started laughing at this point but he promises it’s not at her but more of a shocked laugh at the whole mess of a situation. dae asks her if she’s going to be ok and if she wants to talk about it. minho is still laughing at the irony of it all.

[avelera]

Come live with me and be my Love by Avelera Chapters: 14/? Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Summary: Dream wagers with Desire and loses. The price he must pay? Living out a year among humans, not in the manner of his choosing but as a married "woman", at least as far as those around him will see. Desire's one concession to Dream: that he may spend that year married to Hob Gadling, who didn't sign up for any of this. Now with art by fishydwarrows! Credit is owed to @mandolinearts for the lovely banner!

-- And we're back with Ch. 14! Now that Giving Sanctuary's big dinner party climax is wrapped up, I'm back to bopping between these two fics. Hope you all enjoy!

[all-chickens-are-trans]

once again caught in the endless loop of wanting to watch a movie that doesn't exist to get it out of my system but never being able to

[stillboredbuttrying]

Rewatching Love between fairy and devil for emotional support reasons.

I still can't forgive whoever translated the title from something like "Orchid's farewell" to love between fairy and devil. She is not a fairy and he is not a devil.

Anyway ep2. How good the actors have been for the body switching??? XiaoLan is a complete airhead (I love her) and when they switch body you see all her silly reactions in the body of this dark lord. Peak comedy. Meanwhile Dongfang Qingcang is so done from the very beginning. And you can see it's still him when they body switch and XiaoLan's body is all straight and serious

[zo1nkss]

I finished the episodes at a snail pace because I can't do anything at normal human speed and here are my brief thoughts post-binge:

ep1 > Honestly terrified me. I love seeing Ed in his evil era but I hated watching all my beloved crew suffer for it.

Will say I'm so fucking excited about Archie. Not sure I feed into the "TealOranges breakup" it honestly feels more like an open type thing. Like there aren't a lot of expectations idk. That's just my interpenetration of what we've got so far tho!

ep2 > Truly so much happened this episode that it's hard to condense my feelings into something digestible. Like I do feel bad for Izzy, but he's right in ep3 when he says he and Stede caused this and I think that's about where I stand on things. I do think he fucked around too close to the sun and now he's finding out how hot it can burn, but it still sucked to see Ed acting that way no matter who was getting the short end of the stick. I don't want to preemptively invent discourse that doesn't exist but I'm nervous about how yt ppl will react. Going to enjoy Ed getting to be a villain for five minutes tho because he rlly got his moment to be an absolute royal fucking bitch about a breakup. He got the rampage montage and that's awesome rock on man.

ep3 > what can I say? HANDS. MERMAID STEDE. Stede literally called Ed back from death. He literally led him back and Ed chose life because Stede was waiting for him. Stede wanted him around. I'm so not okay rn.

[jennyandvastraflint]

Romcom Paternoster Gang.

Jenny saying "that's the closest I'll get to fucking a mermaid" and starting to pursue Vastra who's already undyingly devoted to her

Strax is basically his canon self, he transcends genres. He gets to counsel both of them and tells each the same thing, "Love is a chemical imbalance in the brain"

The Doctor occasionally shows up as a running gag in various regenerations but it's never addressed, they just have 15 differently looking people show up and call them all the Doctor.

[its-chelisey-stuff]

I'M SO READY, SO SO SO READY, LIKE I WAS BORN FOR THIS!!!!! JUST GIVE IT TO ME JTBC!!

[valeriianz]

so, i HAVE an idea for something 00's romcommy (thanks to @carnelianmeluha and @wordsinhaled) but as i was writing it, i thought to myself, "but they need backstory!" and what was going to be just a few paragraphs of introspection turned into a 3.3k high school AU set in the 90s. so, have this for now. part 2 will be up whenever i feel like it :)

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

“Dream!”

Hob found him in a corner, blending into the shadows and had to laugh as he looked up at the sound of his name. He was wearing black, as usual, with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his tight jeans.

“So glad to see you here.” Hob said as he approached, looking upon his friend with a little less restraint than he typically allowed. The vodka-spiked punch was hitting him hard.

Dream relaxed a modicum, his shoulders visibly drooping as his chin tilted up.

“I am only here because you invited me.”

Hob’s smile only widened as he leaned forward. 

“Then I’m flattered. Do you want a drink?”

Dream shrugged and Hob laughed again, turning halfway and inclining his head for Dream to follow him.

Hob, despite being in with the more popular kids in his grade, wasn’t the biggest fan of house parties. He knew Dream wasn’t either; moreso, in fact. Dream was more likely to be found spending his Friday nights cooped up in the library, nose stuck in a book.

But tomorrow they were graduating from high school, and Hob’s parents weren’t coming back from their anniversary trip until the morning. Which meant this was Hob’s last chance to throw an epic rager. 

Though Derek Gallagher, the star athlete of their high school’s football team, was also throwing a party tonight, so it was less of a rager going on here, and more of a casual hang sesh. Hob couldn’t complain though. At least he liked the dozen or so people in his parent’s house, and at least cleaning up the next day wouldn’t be impossible. And no one had messed with the volume control for the music yet; 90s hip hop and r&b dripping through the entertainment system. 

Hob nabbed a red solo cup and ladled out the sweet drink into it, passing it along to Dream, who took it with a suspicious look before taking a sip.

Dream immediately blanched.

“Oh. That’s awful.”

Hob laughed again before biting his bottom lip. Dream didn’t seem to mind though, his own little smile peeking through.

“You can dilute it with more juice in the fridge, if you want.”

Throughout the evening, Hob tried to keep his attention on more than just Dream at his side, chatting with his fellow classmates and laughing along to stories and jokes, one last go at clearing up the rumor mill.

And though Dream mostly kept quiet, he did acknowledge those who greeted him, congratulated him on getting into a university in England, how fun it was going to be moving overseas, to which Dream hummed and nodded politely.

Hob was the only one who knew the truth: that Dream’s parents were sending him away. That while Dream had been accepted on an academic scholarship, it was only because his family had set it up for him. Had forced him to apply, had paid for his application and was having him shipped off next month, when Dream would turn 18 and they didn’t have to keep him in their house any longer.

What looked like a privileged situation was actually cruel and heartbreaking. Yes, Dream was going to Oxford. That was insane. Yes, his stupidly wealthy parents were paying for his room and board and what tuition the scholarship didn’t cover. But it was only a drop in the bucket for them. They saw Dream’s future more as a promising investment for when they grew old and needed Dream’s career to take care of them. Not as if they had plenty of money stowed away to keep them afloat during retirement and then some. Or plenty of children, for that matter.

And of course to say they had yet another child in some prestigious university didn’t hurt their reputation either.

Hob managed to derail the subject every time it came up, of where everyone else was going to college. It was inevitable, discussing the future with his classmates, given the timing. But Hob could see Dream sinking more and more into himself as the night went on, holding onto his drink more for his hands to be occupied than anything else.

“I know,’ Johanna announced suddenly, hours bleeding into the late evening. “Let’s liven things up a bit.”

She had several hands help clear a large area in the living room as she procured the empty vodka bottle, shaking it with a drunken twinkle in her eyes.

“Truth or dare, motherfuckers.”

The party, which had been dying down, suddenly turned up again. Everyone refilled their drinks and formed a large circle on the floor. 

Dream plopped down next to Hob, folding his legs and throwing a lazy, tipsy smile at Hob. Who had to take another sip of his drink to keep himself from doing something drastic. Like tell Dream how cute he was right now. 

His coal black hair was a mess, sticking up and curling around his ears from the excessive amount of times Dream had run his hand through it. His boots were off, his sock-clad toes wiggling in anticipation. And his blue eyes seemed to shine, reflecting off the Christmas lights Hob had hung around the house for the party.

The game started and everyone played along, turning up the stakes and performing various wacky scenarios that only teenagers were capable of escalating. Cori licked Alex’s eyeball on a dare, erupting a chorus of screams and gags and Alex furiously rubbing his eyes afterward. On a demand for truth, Rachel confirmed the rumor that she’d fingered Johanna under the bleachers freshman year to an absolute assault of jeers and hooting and hollering, causing the extremely rare sight of Johanna flushing scarlet from her ears down to her neck. 

Naturally the game turned racy after that. Dares to kiss and show off hidden tattoos. Truths to admit who fucked whom and what would you do for such-and-such.

Hob feels himself getting warmer. And not to mention Dream, who remained seated next to him during this entire debauchery, becoming increasingly more uncomfortable as the game wore on. Hob could sense him slowly slipping out of the circle, until his knee lightly touched Hob’s hip, instead of where it had been for the better part of half an hour, resting against his thigh.

Hob turned, finding Dream staring down into his empty cup, turning it around and around in his grasp, and had just opened his mouth to comfort him, when Johanna piped up across from him.

“Hob, truth or dare.”

Hob’s head swung forward, eyes falling on the bottle top pointing directly at him. He sniggered softly, taking another peek over at Dream and finding his eyes now on him. Hob gently laid his hand over Dream’s foot, giving it what he hoped was a comforting squeeze before facing Jo again.

Truth be told, Hob was feeling much too invigorated from the alcohol, and he’d been waiting for his time to shine. Hob loved making a spectacle and so let his smile turn into a smirk, meeting Jo’s challenging stare head on.

“Dare.”

A collection of “ooh”s and delighted giggles spread around the circle.

“Good choice, Hobsie.” Her own brown eyes sparkled with mirth. Hob wasn’t sure when Rachel had crawled into her lap, but didn’t let it distract him from her next words. 

“I dare you to…” Jo tilted her chin, tapping it in mock consideration. “Kiss the person the bottle next lands on.”

Oh, easy, Hob thought. About to open his mouth to say so, when Jo spoke up again.

“With tongue.”

“Pfft,” Hob sat up, pushing his chest out. “You’re on.”

He reached forward, licking his lips teasingly as his eyes roamed around the circle of his peers, getting a hand around the bottle and giving it a powerful twirl.

The room went quiet save for a few hushed exchanges and some girls giggling that only made Hob grin flirtatiously. He felt the alcohol in his blood rushing with enough speed to make him dizzy, and the spinning bottle honestly wasn’t helping. But Hob had been patiently waiting his turn all night so watch it he would. 

Soon, all eyes followed the bottle as it began to slow, a hush of anticipation that Hob’s peers had been accustomed to all night falling over the circle once more.

Until the bottle finally stopped, and Hob’s heart along with it.

Because the mouth of the bottle pointed squarely at Dream, sitting right next to him. 

Scattered hollering and clapping filled Hob’s ears as his gaze flicked sideways to his friend, who was staring at the bottle, his posture ramrod straight, his hands no longer fiddling.

Hob swallowed and ignored the jeering and playful jab at his side from Cori, eyes fixated on his friend, his best friend. Who didn’t like going to parties, who only smiled when he meant it, who only complained about his parents stupid and strict rules only if Hob asked, never wanting to appear annoying, or too much, preferring to keep to the shadows.

Dream, who would fold if only Hob gave him his best pout, allowing himself to be tugged along to a concert or arcade with a well timed joke and friendly pestering. Who seemed like such a stick-up-the-ass to everyone except Hob, who only had eyes for him. Hob’s best friend, shy and awkward and a little mean, and so devastatingly handsome it was a wonder Hob hadn’t had the balls to do something about it yet.

It would take something as juvenile as a dare to finally give Hob the excuse to act upon his helpless crush. Though Dream…

Dream hadn’t looked away from the bottle. Bringing his lips in to form a line and. Hob felt his nerves begin to escape from out his ears.

“Hey…” Hob spoke gently, moving his hand to carefully rest on Dream’s knee.

Dream’s gaze snapped to Hob at once, and the look in his eyes made Hob’s stomach drop.

He looked terrified.

Hob’s breath caught in his throat, the air around them suddenly thick with an unidentified tension. 

Cori’s voice popping up over Hob’s shoulder made them both jump.

“C’mon, Morpheus. Hob won’t bite, unless you ask him to!”

Hob sighed loudly, rolling his eyes for the group’s benefit, who eased up with a roll of snickering around them. One time, that happened!

“I–” Dream started, swallowing hard enough for his Adam’s apple to bob harshly. “I’d rather–”

“Just one kiss, Dream,” Hob heard himself say, a little desperate. A little too drunk. “It’ll be really quick…” He felt himself already leaning in and Dream’s lips parted, sucking in an audible breath.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

Jo and Cori started the chant, and everyone around them followed suit, egging Hob and Dream on.

The realistic, rational part of Hob’s brain, which was still muddled by cheap vodka, tried to remind Hob that this was just a game, and Dream didn’t have to do this if he didn’t want to. He’d even opened his mouth to say so, amongst the drunken, teenage laughter and clapping in time to the chant.

But what he spoke, instead of insisting they didn’t have to kiss, that they could potentially even revisit this, and Hob’s ego wouldn’t be bruised, thank you very much, was a quiet,

“Please?”

Dream’s brows pinched together, he looked truly torn and Hob couldn’t figure out what that meant, especially as the seconds ticked away. Driving Hob crazy, waiting for permission; verbally or even a single head nod. Hob wet his lips and his stomach did an acrobatic leap as he caught Dream’s gaze flick down to catch the motion, his shoulders visibly rising as he took a breath.

“No.”

Hob blinked and Dream was untangling himself from the floor, standing up so fast he wobbled, and stomped out of the room.

The chanting died down at once. Hob felt himself frozen to the carpet in the surrounding silence. 

Somebody politely coughed. Hob’s gaze found Johanna, who only looked back at him in sympathy, her eyebrows tilted up. 

Humiliation and rejection burned in Hob’s chest, crawling up his neck and making his ears hot. 

Cori clicked his tongue and Hob whipped his head around to glare at him.

“Tough luck, buddy.”

“Shut up,” Hob hissed, feeling all the more embarrassed for it. He splayed his hands flat on the floor, pushing himself up without another look at his classmates, and walked towards where Dream had vanished to with shaking limbs.

—------------------------------------

Hob found him quickly enough, going through the laundry room and out the door that led to the back yard.

“Dream?”

Blue eyes, barely visible in the darkness, rose to find Hob as he made his way down the steps, sitting across from Dream, against the railing, putting distance between them.

Dream looked forward again, his eyes set, face unreadable. Hob hated that he was drunk at the moment because he’d otherwise never chuckle sarcastically like he’s doing now. Hiding the pain, perhaps, hoping Dream can’t see how ashamed he’s feeling, how rejection boils in his blood and even looking at Dream right now, twists Hob’s insides.

“What the hell?”

Dream takes a long breath through his nose, pushing his shoulders back. And says nothing.

“It would have just been a stupid kiss,” Hob goes on, unprompted. Words tumbling out of his mouth like vomit. “You’re my friend. Is the thought of kissing me so disgusting you need to run away?”

Hob feels his eyes begin to sting and throws his head back, smiling derisively. He was about to start crying. Great.

Once he’s gotten himself under control, Hob tilts his head down and finds Dream watching him, his own gaze softened, if only minutely.

His lips part, voice low and quiet. “You misunderstand me.”

“Then I’d love it if you’d explain,” Hob sighs roughly. “Because you just made me look like an asshole in there.”

Dream shakes his head, unfolding his arms over his lap and getting long, pale fingers around his knobbly knees instead.

“The world is ending tonight.” Dream starts cryptically, staring at how his fingers pick at the tears in his jeans. “Tomorrow we graduate. I’m going to England and we’ll never see each other again.” He looks sideways at Hob, who’s holding his breath.

“And you’re still worried about how people perceive you?” He takes a breath. “You choose to spend your last hours getting drunk and playing juvenile games? Instead of…” Dream gaze flits back toward the house, swallowing.

Hob scoots over, closer to Dream. Summer is right around the corner but the night air is cool still, clean and pleasantly quiet. And Dream blends into the darkness like he belongs there, the stars in the cloudless sky, how they light up the darkness along with the moon, giving just enough illumination to see by, to marvel at Dream sitting on Hob’s back porch steps. 

Taking in the wonder that is Hob’s closest friend, beautiful, shy, wicked smart Dream. Hob feels calm fall over him like a blanket. Mulling on Dream’s words, and settling on a response.

“What would you rather be doing?”

Dream finds Hob’s gaze again, and Hob lifts his shoulders, prompting Dream further, but he remains silent. Hob takes a breath, speaking again when Dream doesn’t respond.

“If the world is ending anyway…” Hob starts, licking his bottom lip. “Then just say it.”

Agonizing seconds slip by, where Dream stares at Hob, lips slightly parted, eyes widening.

“I want to kiss you.”

Hob’s heart lurches in his chest and he feels the air leave his lungs. Dream’s voice is so quiet, so fragile, it makes Hob ache.

“But not–” Dream inclines his head slightly, toward the house. “Not like that.”

“Oh…” Hob says eloquently, finding himself petrified once again.

There’s a new tension in the silence that falls between them. Waiting, anticipating. Hob takes a steadying breath and feels like he’s jumping off a cliff.

He gets on hand on the floor between them and leans over, his other hand hovering towards Dream. 

“Can I–?”

“Yes.”

Dream meets him halfway, pressing warm, chapped lips to Hob’s, and holding still. 

It’s sweet, and careful, and when Dream exhales from his nose, the warm air hitting Hob, his lips part to take a breath and Hob lunges forward, getting a hand around the side of Dream’s face and pulling him in. Hob sweeps his tongue along the seam of Dream’s lips once before diving past, pulling a surprised gasp from Dream that turns into a soft groan.

Hob’s fingers caress into the soft strands of Dream’s hair as they kiss, elation popping off like fireworks under Hob’s skin as he finally is able to touch his friend like this. Move his lips along Dream’s with drunken coordination and vigor, putting as much affection and want into the kiss as Hob could, hoping Dream could understand. Could feel how long Hob has wanted to do this. And as they move together, bodies naturally closing the distance between them and Dream’s hands finsting into Hob’s shirt before weaving up and around his shoulders, Hob understands why Dream would rather share this privately, without an audience of their peers gawking.

Because this was real. Years of repressed yearning and feelings bubbling up to the surface and tumbling forth in exchanged breaths and needy whines, Hob’s fingers digging a little harder into Dream’s scalp, Dream’s hands, in response, clawing at Hob’s back, pulling him impossibly closer as his body arched like a bow so their chests bumped and Hob could feel the heat of his friend’s body against his own.

Hob tore his mouth away, taking a ragged breath, stealing it from Dream, before going back in, again and again, little lips-only kisses that elicited the prettiest noises from Dream. Especially as Hob’s lips wanders down his chin and up his jaw, causing his friend to cling tighter to Hob, tilting his head to give Hob better access, breathing through his mouth, the hot air hitting Hob’s ear and driving him wild.

“Dream…” Hob finally spoke, his low voice painted in arousal and causing Dream to shake in his arms. He nipped Dream’s ear before licking it. “Why is this all coming out now?”

One of Dream’s hands went up into Hob’s hair, fingers tangling in the brown locks as he huffed his response.

“I could ask the same of you.”

Hob smiles, but it’s sad. He’s slowed down now, gently nudging his nose underneath Dream’s ear before pulling back, facing him once more.

Dream’s eyes flutter open and Hob feels struck down. He’s never seen Dream’s eyes so dark, his blue iris’ nearly all encompassed by the black of his pupils. Hob, unable to resist now, taps his nose to Dreams, taking a breath.

“I was scared.”

He can hear how Dream swallows.

“Me too.”

They sit like that for a long moment, holding on to one another, breathing each other’s air, savoring the revelation that had just transpired. And knowing it wouldn’t last. 

—-------------

They of course saw each other again at graduation, and throughout the days that followed. Hob prepared to move across the state to his chosen college and Dream prepped to leave the country all together.

Hob offered to drive Dream to the airport on moving day, but Dream shook his head, saying it was already too painful that he was leaving, he didn’t want any lingering looks. Instead Dream’s father took a quick detour to Hob’s house, where Dream stood in Hob’s doorway to say goodbye, and in full view of both their families, all they could do was hug. And Hob put his entire body into it, crushing Dream, who had always been so damn thin and gangly, in his arms and nosing his way into Dream’s hair to take one final, deep inhale.

“We’ll see each other again.” Hob promised, in that hopeful way young people did.

Dream only smiled ruefully, his eyes shining and causing a lump to form in Hob’s throat.

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” Hob nodded, getting his hands around Dream’s face and caressing his thumbs under his eyes and across sharp cheekbones. “You think you can get rid of me that easily?”

Dream huffed out a quiet laugh, the blue of his eyes sparkling.

[landwriter]

Please, please tell me something about Untitled 1!

(By which I mean, of course, please share something you’re excited about)

excited about this Hob realization in 70s SF AU:

Hob grows quiet and starts unpicking a seam on his jacket, so he fishes out his cigarettes and offers the box. Hob takes one gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

---

“Anyways. Probably for the better. Doubt he wanted a queer or a poet for a son. Only other way I’ve really taken after him is smoking. Started two years after he died, same brand I remembered seeing in his truck. Lucky Strikes, like you. It’s where he had to smoke. Mom wouldn’t let him do it inside. Calls it a nasty habit.” Hob snorts. “’Least she used better words when she found out I was gay. I think she secretly hopes I’ll quit both. Send her a postcard one of these days: ‘Hi ma, San Francisco is great. I’m all finished with smoking and men. Still a poet, sad to say, but I don’t associate with the hippies here. Doesn’t the Golden Gate Bridge look lovely in this photo? Send my love to everyone.’”

Dream laughs. Hob beams, nudges his shoulder into him. “So. What about yours?”

---

“Why not?” He fumbles out a cigarette, lights it. He’ll play Dream’s mystery man for him. “C’mon, huh?” He takes a shaky drag. “Why not? Why don’t you take something from me, then, and we’ll call it even?”

Dream stares unblinking at him for a moment and then sets his beer down on the table with a sudden clatter. Shit, maybe he’ll deck me, he thinks, if I’m lucky.

Instead, Dream reaches out and pulls the cigarette from his lips and puts it between his own. Hob sways forward after it. Dream takes a long drag and tilts his head back to blow the smoke past Hob. His throat is pale. Like the fucking moon. His eyes haven’t left Hob’s. Sharp wet seaglass. Fuck, fuck, fuck, thinks Hob. Dream stubs out the cigarette and leans forward. He never smokes. He always has cigarettes, and he never smokes. His voice is rough from it. “Like that?”

[itspileofgoodthings]

I mean, you know I love an American aesthetic.