i was ready to leave this be but then @designtheendless made this gorgeous art so of course i had to write a bit more The Devil Wears Prada AU:

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Dream invites Hob as a plus-one to a fashion event. Hob is ecstatic to get a glimpse into the fast-paced, cut-throat industry that Dream has nudged his way into. He warns Hob that Morningstar might drag him away at any given moment and he’d be left alone, is that alright? Hob shrugs and can’t say he minds. If he gets free food and booze out of it, he’ll gladly wander around for a bit.

And for the first time in Hob’s life, he gets dolled up. Really dressing the part of a fashion mogul’s partner. Dream takes him out, using the money from a bonus in his salary to surprise Hob by taking him to a tailor. Hob wonders why none of his usual blazer and pants combo wouldn’t work and tries not to get offended at the way Dream scrunches up his nose and refuses to answer him.

“Every man should have a tailored suit in their wardrobe,” Dream explains while Hob stands on the short platform and the seamstress takes his measurements. “A perfect fit is the raison d’être of custom suits.”

Hob swallows at the perfect French slipping past Dream’s lips. He had only been in Paris for a couple weeks yet he was already name-dropping influential French designers, recalling conversations he’d had with them in stories he’d recant to Hob in an accent that Hob never knew Dream could pull off. Or that he’d be so enticed by.

“I’ll never get the chance to wear this again, you know,” Hob smiled, a little self-deprecating. Working as a chef hardly afforded Hob time to dress up. And it wasn’t like he ever went anywhere fancy enough for such effort. “After the party, it’s just gonna sit in my closet forever.”

“We’ll make use of it…” Dream says softly, standing up as the seamstress steps away to grab something. 

Dream takes up Hob’s arm, fingers trailing down the length of it, covered in a deep blue fabric that probably costs more than their monthly rent and Hob’s eyes never leave Dream as he inspects the pins and cuffs.

“A custom suit,” Dream starts again, dropping Hob’s arm and moving on to the front of the jacket, caressing the lapels. “Is designed to highlight the best features of its wearer. Bespoke tailoring is an art form, and you are the perfect canvas.”

Hob looks down at Dream, standing on the platform gives the illusion of added height, and Dream raises his eyes to look upon him. Hob tries very hard not to dive too deep into Dream’s blue eyes, tries not to get lost in the crystal clear sea of emotions, the way he could drown in them.

“And what are my best features?” Hob grins, raising an eyebrow, challenging.

Dream chuckles, tugging at the jacket. His eyes never leave Hob’s, even as the tailor returns.

“I’ll tell you later.”

There are a lot of big names and top designers at the event and Hob hasn’t a clue who any of them are, but he listens and nods when Dream points them out. He shakes hands with professional photographers and runway models and designers that Hob kind of recognizes but not really. He’s too busy marveling at the immaculate decor, the flowy dresses, and the free champagne. 

Dream, as warned, leaves his side constantly. But Hob has perfected the art of fake-it-til-you-make-it and smiles cheerily and engages in simple chit chat where he lets the other person do all the talking and nods along enthusiastically. He tugs on the sleeves on his jacket, amazed how a well-fitted suit can feel like wearing nothing at all. The fabric is also high quality, buttery soft to the touch and moving along his skin with every step like a gentle hug. He feels a little like a poser, but after a few drinks in him, settles more into the mindset of a party crasher.

After about an hour of missing Dream, Hob goes looking for him. Weaving and winding through the crowd, finding Morningstar on a few occasions and blatantly ignoring her, especially as he doesn’t see Dream with her.

Hob finds a back entrance that’s all glass and slips through into the cool evening air and hears Dream’s unmistakable deep tenor, talking with someone privately. 

And as Hob approaches, he notes the distinct agitation in Dream’s tone.

“... truly tired of finding you everywhere I go, Christian.” Dream sighs disdainfully. 

“You should be in print,” another voice– Christian, speaks quickly, laying on the charm heavily. “I see the way Morningstar treats you.”

“They treat me fine. You, on the other hand–”

“I’d treat you so well, Dream.”

Hob finally rounds a corner and finds Dream leaning back against a wall of the mansion, holding a champagne flute that no longer has anything in it between them, as if using it as a barrier. Christian is leaning just a hair too close in Dream’s space and at the sight of it, Hob nearly sees red.

“Hey, Dream. I’ve been looking for you.”

Dream turns his head and at the sight of Hob, his face relaxes immediately. The impatient, frustrated look in his eyes, the furrowed brow, vanishing in relief.

Hob isn’t a jealous guy, and he knows it isn’t jealousy that he feels rushing through his veins. It’s possession. It’s some kind of embarrassing animal instinct to claim and parade about how that’s mine, back off.

So the way he slips next to Dream, getting an arm around his waist and pulling him into a kiss that absolutely doesn’t need to be as lascivious and biting as it is, feels both appropriate and completely unnecessary. 

But the way Dream melts at the slip of Hob’s tongue, the way he’s kissing back, using his free hand to knot into the expensive fabric of his button down and pull, keeping him close, wipes Hob’s brain clean and nearly forgets why he’s doing this… until Christian clearing his throat makes its way past Hob’s ears.

They detach with a wet gasp and the way Dream chuckles, a low rumble that shoots straight through Hob’s chest and down to his crotch, makes Hob go back for another, and another. Lips only and chaste, but Dream still leans back respectably, turning his head to address the man before them with a sly grin as Hob nuzzles his way instead up his jaw and behind his ear.

“Christian, this is my fiance, Robert Gadling.”

“Uh, hi.” Christian bites out and Hob turns his head just enough to stare him down. “Didn’t know you were engaged.”

“You did.” Dream insists, extending his arm and pushing the empty glass into Christian’s fumbling hand. “You can leave, now.”

With a barely restrained sigh of “whatever,” Christian goes, shaking his head as he does and Dream takes Hob’s face in both his hands, bringing his attention forward.

“Sorry,” Hob cracks a grin. “I know you’re trying to network and he might’ve been some hotshot guy–”

“He was no one,” Dream interjects, his fingers getting in Hob’s gelled and combed back hair and pulling it. “And that was very hot. Thank you for saving me.”

“Anytime,” Hob laughs and Dream pulls him in to taste it.

my love, mine all mine — lucy gray baird

pairing(s): lucy gray baird x fem!reader, mentions of coriolanus snow x fem!reader.

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, mentions of ptsd, trauma, angst, possessive!lucy, Y/N usage, slightly mean!lucy, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: boom! another one. i am so happy you all love my writing! keep sending in these requests, y’alls ideas are so cool and i adore reading them. this fic is based off of this request, and i hope you all enjoy it! much love .

masterlist

When your eyes first laid upon Lucy Gray Baird, you were immediately enthralled by her presence. Everyone who had ever gotten the honor to meet her would say the same.

You had grown up in the very same district that her and her family, The Covey, were locked up in after being rounded up by the Peacekeepers. Most people around Twelve talked shit on them for being different, but the thing that drew you in the most to her was the fact that she didn’t give a shit.

She didn’t care what anyone thought, no one in her family did. They loved what they did, and that was singing. You saw this on full display at the Hob, where they performed every other night.

You already knew she was beautiful, but, God, when you saw her on that stage, beaming, you swore Aphrodite was standing before you. Her voice was just as beautiful as her, as she danced around stage, captivating the whole room.

At the end her performance, you snatched a daisy out of someone’s bouquet as you walked by, speed-walking to the corridor you were watching her walk into.

“Lucy Gray!” You called, the girl turning towards your call immediately, a smile still on her face. You held out the flower, a soft smile on your face. “You’re beautiful, as well as your singing.”

She blushed, her laugh coming out. “Why, thank you, darlin’.” She took the daisy, taking it up to her nose to smell. “What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” You beamed. “It’s a real pleasure to see you and your family around here. You really light it up ‘round here.” You complimented. “Twelve’s a normally dull place, but here.. it’s different.”

“Thank you, truly.” Her hand grabbed yours, squeezing. “I’ll see you around.”

And she kept her word, finding you after her next show to get to know you better.

And just like that, the pair of you were inseparable.

She introduced you to the Covey, and after they learned you had pipes, you were immediately brought into their group. You loved it, it felt as if you had found the people you’d been longing for your whole life.

But you found yourself staring at Lucy Gray for longer than normal, a dopey smile lazily draped across your sun kissed features. It wasn’t until some teasing from CeCe and Billy that you realized that you had feelings for the girl.

“Aye, Y/N, it seems like you got some drool right there…” CeCe teased, a playful smile on his face as they caught you staring at the girl for the 100th time.

Billy butted in from his side. “Yeah, you do. Someone’s fallin’ for the songbird,” He laughed. You rolled your eyes at them, before taking their words into consideration.

Holy fuck, you were falling for her.

I mean, how could you not? She was a beacon of light, her presence alone brighting up every room she walked into to, and she had treated you wonderfully, even going as far to include you with her family.

You were caught up in your love daze, not realizing the crushing realities that came with your feelings. But when you did, it left a sour taste in your mouth.

The butterflies swirling in your abdomen stopped in an instant, replaced with an oozing, grueling feeling of worry. Lucy Gray could find you repulsing— and the whole Covey would leave you as well.

It left you wishing you had a factory reset button to forget your feelings at once.

“Y/N, what’s with the frown?” Lucy Gray suddenly appeared in front of you, her signature smile on her cherry lips.

Your eyes snapped to hers, your nerves only growing. “Oh, nothin’. Just thinkin’.”

She sat down next to you. “Oh, really? Didn’t think you was capable.” She joked, making you lightly shove her with a smile.

Your breath caught in your throat when you realized how close you were to the girl. Her honey eyes stared up into yours, and you struggled to not look at her lips. All you wanted to do was close the space between the pair of you.

But you decided on that day that you would settle for this. After all— having her as a friend was better than nothing.

It wasn’t until the reaping of that year that you decided to throw caution to the wind.

It was the Covey’s first reaping, and it was for the annual 9th Hunger Games. Your nerves always got the best of you during this time of year, but it seemed that you weren’t the only one.

You sat in your room, Lucy Gray sitting at your desk in the corner. She said she was trying to write, but you could tell by the bouncing of her leg and her tense body that it wasn’t going well.

You licked your lips, putting your book aside. “You alright, Gray?”

She turned her head, her eyes meeting yours from over her shoulder. She sighed, turning back to the paper and rubbing her temple. “No,”

You stood up, coming to stand next to her, your hesitant hands rubbing her shoulders, the tense muscles deflating under your touch. “What’s wrong?”

“I.. I just really miss my mama.” She let out a sad breath. “And this reapin’ stuff is got my nerves wrecked.”

“I know the feelin’.” You bitterly chuckled. “You won’t get your name drawn, Lucy, none of you will. Your names are only in their once, your chances are slim. You should be okay. I miss my ma, too. I know it hurts.” You tried your best to calm her.

Her hand came up to grab yours that was resting on her shoulder, lacing your fingers together. “You know, you are about the only good thing in this District,” She smiled up at you, her worry lines faded.

At her words you felt those butterflies return, as your eyes flickered down to her lips, your teeth pulling in your bottom lip as you tried to talk yourself down.

Lucy Gray noticed this, however, and with a smile still plastered on her pretty face, she leaned up ever so slightly and captured your lips with her own. Your eyes widened in surprise, before they fluttered closed, your hands coming up to cup her face.

You let out a happy hum against her lips, the girl standing up to get a better grip on your hips, her lips never leaving yours. When you broke apart for air, a giggle left her slips at the sight of your lips stained with her lipstick.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for so long,” You admitted with a smile.

A smirk grew across her face. “I was waitin’ for you to grow the balls to do it first. Turns out you were too chicken.” She teased, her arms wrapping around your neck as she left small pecks on your lips.

You didn��t even pretend to be offended by her words, instead rolling your eyes playfully before kissing her again.

“Be my girlfriend,” She whispered against your lips. You pulled back slightly at her words, before jumping into her arms.

“Yes, yes.” You chuckled, as the girl hugged you back just as tightly.

That led you to now, where you smiled at the same brunette that was laid in your arms. She was different, anyone who had been what she went through would be, but she was also still your same Lucy Gray in all the best ways.

After you got her back from the games, you vowed to never let her go again. The turmoil you felt in the weeks that she was away from you, not knowing if you’d see her again or not— you never wanted to feel that again. And she felt the same way.

“You got a starin’ problem, girl?” Lucy Gray teased with that southern drawl you loved, seeing that you were lost in thought.

A warm smiled crossed your face at the sound of her voice, your hand going to play with her hair. “If it means I get to look at you, then yes, I do.”

She giggled, snuggling deeper into your arms. “Yeah, yeah, you sap.”

“You love it,”

She rolled her eyes, playfully. “I do,” She looked at you seriously now, leaning up to kiss you softly. You smiled against her lips, the feeling of her expressing her love for you in such an intimate way always making you smile.

You would proudly admit that you were head over heels in love with your girlfriend to anyone. But you knew you couldn’t— hell, the only people that even knew you were together was the Covey and her mentor, Coriolanus Snow. People didn’t seem expect, nor accept your type of love.

She had told him during her time there, during the nights they spent together talking through the cage bars. She talked his ear off about you, a love-sick smile on her face the whole time, the girl forgetting that some people weren’t accepting of your love.

But to her surprise, Coriolanus didn’t care if she was with a girl. In fact, he was thrilled, which confused her to no end. (She didn’t know this, but the only reason he was happy was because he now had something that would fuel her to win.)

You thanked every star above for the Snow boy for bringing your girl back to you, even if she was brought back with sharper edges. You didn’t care, you had her back in your arms. And you wanted to thank him.

But, Lucy Gray was a different girl than what she was when she left, even if she tried to pretend that wasn’t the case. She was more paranoid, more protective of the people she loved— especially you. More than you anticipated.

So the next morning when you set out to find the boy who was currently serving time as a Peacekeeper in your very district, the one goal in your mind was to thank him, the thought that this might be upsetting to your girlfriend not even crossing your temple.

You decided to bring him a rose— Lucy Gray mentioning to you that his Grandmother grew them, and you just happened to as well. It wasn’t like the pure ones his Grandmother grew in the Capitol, but you deemed it good enough.

You caught a glimpse of his platinum buzzcut, a smile growing over your ruby red lips. “Snow!” You called, jogging up to him in your cowboy boots. He turned at the call, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw it was you.

“Y/N?” He questioned.

“Hey, Coriolanus.” You smiled, holding out the rose for him. “Lucy Gray mentioned something about your Grandmother and roses, and just as a thanks for you bringin’ her back to me, I’d like to give you this,” You motioned to the rose.

To your delight, his hard face warped into that of a smile. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly.” His hand came out to squeeze your forearm affectionately. “I appreciate it, and you don’t have to thank me for that.”

“I do.” You assured him. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t get her back. You saved her… so, truly, thank you, Coriolanus. I mean it.” You felt eyes on you, but you shook the feeling off.

He nodded sheepishly, not used to the type of compliment you were giving him. “Of course.. Thank you for the rose. Let me know if you need anything, I’ll see you around.” He smiled, giving your forearm one last squeeze before he turned.

“You’re welcome, Coryo.” You flashed him one last smile before you turned on your heel yourself. What you didn’t expect to see was to see those honey eyes you loved staring daggers at you.

You cocked your head to the side as she began to stomp her way towards you. Once she reached you, she grabbed your wrist with a hard grip, and without word dragged you back to your now shared home.

“Lucy, what’re you doing?” You asked, just as your neared the front lawn of your home.

She clicked her tongue, a sign she was mad, and shook her head, continuing to lead you to the house in silence. Once the pair of you got in, she threw her bag on your shared bed, crossing her arms.

“What the hell was that?” She asked, her tone hard.

“What are you talkin’ about, Lucy?” You asked, stepping closer to her. She only backed away, her head shaking once again, while you visibly shrank at her rejection.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You know better,” She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I been runnin’ around, lookin’ for you like some fool, while you were off with my mentor, lettin’ him touch you. Why were you with him, huh?” She pressed. “What, you think I’m stupid or somethin’?”

“Coriolanus?” Your eyebrows furrowed, still not quite catching on to what she was so angry about.

“Yes, damnit, him.” Her voice slightly raised as she walked up to you, her gaze lowered as she glared at you. “Why were you givin’ him a rose, huh? Why were his hands on you?”

You licked your lips as you took in her state. Her pupils were blown out, her jaw slack— God, she looked so hot when she was angry. You shook your head at your thoughts, trying to be serious.

“Aye!” Her fingers snapped in front of your face, angrily. “Answer me,”

“Lucy, I— I was goin’ to thank him..” You whispered, your voice dying in your throat as you submitted to her fiery gaze.

“Why?” Her voice was low and raspy, sending shivers down your spine.

“For bringin’ you back t’me.” You admitted, looking at the floor guiltily as it sunk in that how much you truly had upset her. “I never got the chance to properly thank him, and you said he liked roses. So I brought him one, I thought it would remind him of home. I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear,”

Her eyes softened. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry..” She whispered, one hand coming up to cup your jaw, rubbing softly. “I.. My mind went somewhere completely different when I saw him touchin’ you.. It just made me angry,”

A sly smirk came over your features. “I think you mean jealous, Lucy Gray.” You whispered teasingly.

“Only you could make me this crazy,” She smiled. “But, I am sorry.” She said, guilt swirling in her eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright.” You reassured her, seeing that she was beating herself up. “Even I get a little jealous seein’ Billy drape hisself on you when he’s shitfaced, it’s normal, baby, I ain’t mad.” Your goofy smile mixed with your southern accent making her smile come back.

But just as it returned, it was replaced with a serious look. “Just.. stay away from him, alright? I don’t fully trust ‘em.”

“I won’t go near him again, I promise. I just wanted him to know I was thankful for bringin’ my best girl back t’me,” You tried to cheer her up, your lips ghosting over hers.

“Good. ‘Cause your mine,” She smirked, closing the space between the two of you as her lips kissed you hard, her teeth nipping your bottom lip as you let out a gasp, granting her access to your mouth as she deepened the kiss.

You smiled against her lips, thanking the stars above that you had the pleasure of being hers.

"A van Dyck," Dream drawled, dragging a light finger along the gilt frame of the painting propped on the top of one of Hob's shelves. Hob really should do something more formal with that. "Interesting thing to have in your living room, Hob."

"I tell people it's a print," Hob said, coming to stand beside him and handing him his tea.

"Oh, but it is not." There was a smirk dancing on Dream's lips, Hob knew without even looking at him directly.

"Makes sense that you'd be able to tell," he sighed.

"Of course. Just how did you come across such a thing?"

"Well, I was still mingling with the aristocracy in the early 17th century. Met some interesting people." He shrugged. "Really should have sold it when I was, well, destitute, but couldn't bear to. Managed to stash it away. One of the few things I have of that time, actually."

"I can only imagine you had more than one valuable thing in your possession over the centuries," Dream mused, sipping his tea. "Why this one?"

Oh, God. He knew, didn't he?

Hob rubbed at the back of his neck. "Reminded me of you."

Hob had never known much about art, particularly back then. He hardly would consider himself a collector and certainly not a connoisseur. But that particular portrait had caught his attention immediately for its similarity to Dream.

The likeness was, indeed, striking. His hair was longer than it had been when they'd met in 1589, sweeping over his shoulders, and his features were half-draped in shadow, but his eyes. Hob would know that haughty, intense gaze anywhere.

He'd never quite discounted the idea that it was a portrait of his stranger, except that he couldn't imagine him having the patience or cause to sit for it, or the desire to be immortalized in that way.

"It is me," said Dream.

"What? Seriously?" Hob turned to stare at him and found Dream already looking back, ethereal and lovely. There was only one lamp on in the living room, night falling around them, and it cast his face in a similar light to the portrait, soft gleaming skin and plunging darkness as backdrop, limitless shadow in his eyes. "You, allowing a portrait? You're not having me on?"

"I do not joke." Dream took a step closer to him, setting his tea aside on a table. "I suppose I must have been in good humor that day."

Hob raised both eyebrows. "Oh, uh-huh, you in good humor?"

Dream's lips ticked up in a half-smile. "It happens occasionally."

Hob leaned against the shelf, careful not to jostle the painting. "For someone who so disdains the waking world, you sure are very aware of the art scene."

Dream leaned beside him, tilting his head. "You might consider me a patron of the arts."

Hob chuckled. "A patron? Or an inspiration?" He reached out and dragged his thumb along Dream's lower lip. "Dream?"

"A lover of artists, perhaps."

"I'm sure." Hob swept a hand along his cheek, breaking up the light like he was dragging a wet brush through paint. "You look like you could have stepped right out of that painting right now. You could have stepped out of any painting."

Dream looked at him from under his lashes. "Are you calling me a work of art, Hob Gadling?"

"Always."

Then Hob kissed him, hands framing his beautiful face. Dream was like an artwork, constant in essence but changing interpretation in every new light. Hob could imagine how many people over the centuries had had a fleeting encounter with him and come away changed, just as he had.

Dream hovered near him when they parted. Hob looked over to the painting again. No mere depiction could capture Dream in all of his colors, but it really was a rather good try. Van Dyck had gotten the depth of his eyes just right.

"The Baroque period suits you," Hob told him.

"Now who knows something about art?"

"I've picked up a few things over the years. I'm in love with the world's greatest artist, after all."

Dream moved in as if to kiss him, but paused to speak against Hob's mouth. "There are other works of me out in the world, if you care to seek them out."

"Don't open that challenge because I will do it," Hob informed him, quite seriously.

"I hope so." There was a sharp gleam in Dream's eyes. Hob could only imagine what kinds of paintings might inspire that look. "I look forward to seeing what you find."

At some point after they’ve started hanging out in the Waking more, Dream gets fed up with watching random people hit on/ flirt with Hob, and he decides the solution is (obviously) to put a ring on it. 

He doesn’t get there on his own, Matthew helps. Unwittingly. A little bit wittingly. Look, he just needs these two idiots to get their shit together sometime this century, okay? So Dream asks Matthew how humans in the waking ward off the unwanted advances of others. For Hob, because Hob always turns down these hopeful humans with their lurid daydreams, so wouldn’t it be easier if he had some sort of way to make sure everyone knew that he wasn’t interested? It’s for Hob’s convenience only, and in no way about his own inappropriate possessiveness. Hob was HIS, and everyone needed to know that. 

So Matthew is like... uh, I guess a ring on his left hand fourth finger would do that? But that has a really specific meaning that you might ant to talk over with Hob first, boss, okay? 

Dream obviously does NOT talk it over with Hob first, just sweeps in and slips the (beautifully crafted) ring on his finger and says it’s to protect him from unwanted attention.

So Hob thinks it’s some kind of supernatural protection thing and that Dream doesn’t know what it means to humans. After all, the idea of wedding rings is relatively new, right, to a being as old as Dream? So he wears it, wanting it to mean something it doesn’t and knowing it will make it impossible to move on for as long as he does, because everyone thinks he suddenly got married and is off the market. 

Dream is very smug at first, but then nothing in their relationship changes despite Hob’s acceptance of his suit. (Alright, now that it went well and was accepted he can admit that’s what he was going for the whole time. Wedding rings have been around for 3,000 years and feature heavily in a lot of dreams, he knows what they are.) SO basically they are both idiots thinking their love is unrequited.

I’m looking for a sort-of fishbowl rescue where Alex ends up painting the orb completely black and it ends up getting sold in an estate sale and bought by Hob and his boyfriend of the time.

It is a specific one, but I’m also happy with any recs for fics with a similar premise, where Hob somehow comes into possession of Dream either unknowingly or with the intent of freeing him

I haven't been able to find this exact fic, maybe another Dreamer has? But I can absolutely recommend accidental Dream rescue/acquisitions! Please mind the tags on these ones, they can get heavy and have some triggering themes. They're worth reading, but look after yourselves!

The first is the fic your ask reminded me of instantly. It doesn't have Alex painting the cage black, but it does feature an estate sale, a Hob rescue and the cage being altered:

The End Of All Things by Ranchdiip Words: 13,149 (WIP)

Graphic depictions of violence

There’s not much use thinking about those times, anymore. He will always be Hob Gadling, but the biggest part of what that used to entail had stormed away on a rainy night like this one hundred and thirty years ago, and hadn’t come back.

Hob remembers the ache in his chest in 1989. He remembers the glow of the pub, so much warmer than the pale light cutting across the alley now. He remembers staring at that empty chair for hours—first with anxiety, then with concern, and eventually with bitterness.

“You dare suggest one such as I might need your companionship.”

Hob had dared, and he’d paid for it.

He’d walked out of that pub in 1989 and not looked back.

It's 2020, and Hob Gadling is old, tired, and bitter, dancing the waltz of London's underground black market. Word has spread about something from the Burgess Estate going to auction, and who is Hob to deny himself and his team the opportunity to get their hands on it?

Rated M, Dream/Hob

Let Your Morning Fall Upon Me by Mywayornorway Words: 20886

Graphic Depictions of Violence, Heavy Angst, Please mind the tags

Utterly enraged by Dream's refusal to grant him his wishes, Roderick Burgess finds new joy in torturing his unwilling guest. If he can't get the Endless to talk, perhaps he can make it scream instead.

That is, until his patience comes to an end and he gifts Dream to the next best person who comes along: Hob Gadling.

Rated E, Dream/Hob

And a more light-hearted but no less brilliant fic than the previous two recs:

A Lucky Break(out) by Cuubism Words: 9892

Hob acquires a familiar ruby at an antiquities sale. Said ruby summons something else into his home as well.

Rated T, Dream/Hob

Give In To Us

Part 1 (Part 2)

Steven Grant x Marc Spector x f!reader

summary: after being friends with Steven for months and hiding your growing crush, you finally ask him if you can meet Marc, and things heat up quickly.

word count: 1,699

warnings: 18+ content, smut, dirty talk kinda, praise, f receiving

masterlist

Steven has always been so unbelievably lovely to you. From the minute you met him at the museum gift shop he was opening doors, pulling out chairs, asking if you were okay all the time. It was endearing, really, how caring he could be towards someone he called a friend. And how possessive he could be too.

You could see it sometimes in his eyes. They’d change. He’d go from having caring, deep brown irises to having jet black eyes that would latch onto you like prey. You saw it first when you were both getting coffee after work, a man had approached you for your number and you could have sworn you heard Steven growl under his breath.

It wasn’t until eight months into your friendship that Steven told you about Marc, and you didn’t meet him until a few months after that.

-

Your mind was wondering, as if often does as you sit with your legs swinging, perched on the counter top watching Steven cook for you both. Watching him it crossed your mind what Marc what Marc might think of you, as selfish as it was you didn’t like the thought of someone so close to Steven disliking you. You wondered what he was like, whether he was as gentle as Steven, what he liked, whether he’d roll his eyes at you and your growing crush on Steven.

“Steven?” You call, quiet so as to not startle him as you often did when he was cooking. It was cute how engrossed he could get in these things.

“Yes, love?” He responds, not taking his eyes off the pan in front of him. He has a habit of using pet names, and as much as you’d hate to admit it you’d become accustomed to hearing them - they always sounded so lovely coming from Steven’s lips.

“Does Marc like me?”

At that, Steven puts down what he’s holding and turns to look directly at you, a frown setting across his features.

“Why d’you ask?” He turns off the hob, crossing the kitchen to stand in front of you.

“I wonder about him, not a lot I just… I don’t like the thought of us not getting along when me and you are so…” you choose your next word carefully, “close.”

“Oh God, well, uh,” he stumbles over his words as he mumbles out “Me and Marc we…” another stumble, a sigh, “we feel the same way about you, I just think that-“ he pauses again, collecting his thoughts. “I think maybe Marc would want to show it in a different way.”

You’re confused, mind wondering again about what Steven could mean - you know Steven enough to know he sees you as his best friend, so Marc does too? Clearly he can see the confusion on your face because he sighs and continues.

“I just - Marc can be a bit uh, a bit less subtle with how he acts. He’s… possessive.”

After a moment of silence between the two of you, you raise your gaze from the floor to his eyes, deep brown and caring, searching yours for some sort of response.

“It’s him, isn’t it. When you pull me away from creeps and keep me safe when I’m not paying attention. That’s Marc.” You watch as he nods sheepishly, knowing what you’re going to ask of him next. As much as he hates to admit it, Marc was the confident half of them and if it was up to Marc, Steven reckons you’d be theirs already. This was going to happen eventually, he knew that. “Can I…”

Steven sighs, looking down, and nods. The energy around him shifts and you find yourself wanting to shuffle backwards to give him some space. A low groan escapes his mouth as he looks back up, dark eyes taking you in. You hear your name whispered under breath.

"Hey princess." He starts, looking up with a shit eating grin plastered across his face. The accent was different, new to you, American.

"Marc." You respond simply, not really knowing how to approach him, he was a stranger after all.

You aren't sure whether it's just how much time you spend around Steven but you can see the difference in how Marc stands, how he moves, how he breathes even. It's all... bigger.

"I've been dying to meet you, y/n. I can't believe Steven's kept you to himself all this time." He moves over to the cabinets in a few long strides, grabbing himself a glass from the cupboard.

"Kept me to himself? I wouldn't say Steven has really done that." You make Marc laugh by saying that, he turns with another huge grin on his face, pointing at you, discarding the glass entirely and turning his full attention to you again.

"No, you're right, and that's because he doesn't have the balls for it." He laughs some more, leaning up against the worktop.

"What on earth are you talking about?" You scoff, a blush creeping onto your face as you think about the connotations behind his words.

"Steven and his infinite amount of chivalry would never allow him to act on his wants, his needs. I on the other hand have absolutely no issues with telling beautiful women exactly what I want."

"And what does Ste-" you pause, "what is it you want?" You trail off, hoping that Marc will finish your sentence for you, put you out of your misery and answer the unanswered question.

"You." He responds, stalking across to you and placing his hands firmly against your thighs. "Steven would never admit it, princess, but we've been pining over you since the day you met us." His gaze drops to where his hands are placed. "Is this okay?"

You mumble something incoherent under your breath .

"I'm going to need you to speak up, doll." He whispers back.

"Yes, it's more than okay." He huffs in approval and smiles at you as you gaze up at him.

"And this?" He taunts as one of his hands wraps round your back to pull you closer, the other playing with the waistband of your leggings.

Nodding quickly, you breathe out another "yes" before biting down hard on your lip.

What happens next comes all too quick. Marc's lips are on yours, his hand snaking down into your underwear as you moan into his mouth. His fingers ghost your core and you feel his eyes on you, gauging your reaction to every move he makes. It's only when he's absolutely sure that your comfortable that he slides his fingers down through your folds, coating them with your arousal.

"Fuck, y/n, I've barely done anything and you're dripping." He groans, pushing his middle and ring finger deep into you, hitting just the right spot that makes a strained moan leave your throat. "Mm, that's right pretty girl, make some noise for me." You can hear the grin on his face as he speaks, pumping his fingers slowly in and out of you, watching every reaction you have to make sure he's hitting just the right spot.

"Marc, please." you whine, not entirely sure what you're begging for, but he seems to understand anyway. Picking up the pace, he groans and attaches his lips to your neck, leaving bruise after bruise in his wake as he makes his way up to your jaw. "Marc, god, I-"

He chuckles against your neck, keeping a steady pace, knowing you're close from the way you start to shiver against him.

"Come on, be a good girl, use your words y/n." He taunts again, keeping you on the edge of falling off, right where he wants you to be. Shivering against him as he draws you closer and closer to bliss.

"Please, Marc, I want to come." You whine again, a deep blush setting over your face as you beg. "Please." You practically whisper into his hair.

"Mm, good girl baby, come for me, come on my fingers." He groans as he feels you start to shake, fingers curling inside you to hit that spot over and over as you come. He doesn't stop after that, fingers still rocking in and out of you as he speaks. "Do you want Steven, doll?" Marc asks, watching as your half closed eyes stare into his. "You want him to fuck you?"

Nodding, you watch as he smirks, winking before closing his eyes, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

His fingers come to a stop and abruptly pull out of you as he snaps his head back up, deep brown eyes frantically searching your face. Steven.

"No, no please." You beg as his hand leaves you. "Please, Steven, I-" You're desperate for it now. After feeling how his fingers filled you up so well you can't help but drool over the thought of his dick inside you.

"Fuck, y/n, is this-," he takes a look at you, at the bruises on your neck, and then to his hand, dripping wet. It doesn't take him a second before he's realised what Marc has done. And he's jealous. He wants what Marc had.

"Steven, I want-" before you have time to finish your thought, Steven has taken a step forward and is bringing his hand up to his mouth. You watch in awe as your lovely, innocent Steven sucks your arousal off his fingers and closes his eyes in bliss, moaning.

"I've been wanting to have my hands on you since the day we met. And he beat me to it." Steven practically growls down at you, his hands going to your sides.

"I wanted you back, Steven I- oh fuck." You're caught up again as he pulls you to the edge of the counter top, his bulge pressing firm against you. "I wanted you, I asked him for you."

By now he's close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips, and you don't think you can take any more of this.

"Please, Steven. I need you."

At that he groans, practically ripping his shirt over his head before attaching his lips to yours, growling into your mouth.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you."

Sandman Bloodborne AU 🩸🔪

Also posted over on AO3

The stench of smoke and cooking flesh ran rampant through the air as local hunters celebrated a victory over a beast a few streets away, their celebratory roast of the monstrous flesh ridding the corpse of its scourge. The night of the hunt was long and men took solace in the small victories. A kill here. An immolation there. Enough for the blood lust to be satiated and pride to bloom in their chests.

Hidden amongst the shadows, far away from the flames, two beings were careful to keep their shared presence to a minimum but no less messy.

Hob Gadling tilted his head away as the Corinthian claimed his bloodied prize from the fallen Vileblood. The fingers of the great nightmare moved with grim precision, plucking the eyes and slipping them to plump lips which lay just beneath the metal veneer which covered his upper features.

Blood. Fear. Desire. Insight.

This had proven to be a particularly delicious kill as the fresh corpse possessed a history of vile cruelties which they enacted upon many unfortunate humans, many of them from the damned Hemwick village.

Stood to attention once more, the Corinthian watched with mild fascination as Hob inhaled the scent of fresh blood like a familiar bouquet. He could see it, the way the blood called to the young hunter like an old friend and he smirked as Hob visibly inhaled deeply through his mouth to minimise the temptation.

"As the champion hunters of Lord Morpheus," the Corinthian stood to his impressive height as he wiped the residual drops of blood from his twin Blades of Mercy - named in jest from a flippant comment by his Lord - on the edge of his robe, "you truly do not appreciate the gifts our Lord has to offer." He continued with a slight goading tilt of his head.

Clearly still rattled by the unexpected appearance of the nightmare - even if it could do him no harm - Hob's bloodstained fingers were quick to palm the hilt of his moonlit sword with a shake of his shaggy head.

"I imbibe the blood, but the eyes don't interest me. I've seen enough, and Morpheus has not asked that I develop my insight. The danger is too great."

"Human weakness. A shame, then. The ones who succumb to the madness of the vileblood have wonderful sights to share. Delicious in their blasphemies. I know our Lord has tasked you with eradicating the escaped menace of Hemwick witches but they also know how to have a good time if you dare to indulge sweet Delirium and her frenzied daughters."

The Corinthian flashed a brilliant red-stained smile, his ocular teeth as obscured as ever by the steel crow-shaped mask.

-----

As the familiar looming doors of the throne room swam into view, a shudder rolled through the Corinthian's spine as freely as his lace-edged cape flowed across his shoulders. His Lord's voice rolled through the air, carrying through the very molecules like it belonged there.

"Fear the blood, Desire. Your influence will push them beyond the ability to dream and further into the arms of our dear sister, Delirium. And there, neither you nor I will be able to reach them. Fear the blood which you spread so freely, sibling of mine."

Ah.

The Dream Lord appeared to be entertaining one of his kin; Desire, Child of Appetite and Twin of Despair. The inner machinations of his Lord's relationships with the other great children remained a mystery to him, but Desire often sparked a true irritation within his Lord which often led to further delightful bloodshed on his part.

"Your delicious little pet awaits you, brother." Desire's warm tones, so unlike Dream's, swept through the air in a similar fashion regardless. "We may yet save our hunger for another night."

The Corinthian's heart jerked as he became an unwilling participant in their conversation, his mind fluttering with memories of each Vileblood he had consumed. Desire acted as their unofficial patron and their wrath was not to be scoffed at. One who scoffed at a Great Child would not be laughing for long; and that included one with as much power as he.

Regardless, the doors opened with the slightest of creaks and he did not hesitate to walk through. Weakness was not sewn into his being and it served him no benefit. His mask sitting heavily atop his face, he was thankful regardless for what little protection it offered.

Dropping to his knees as he approached the raised pedestal of the throne room, the constant presence of his eldritch Dream Lord enveloped the Corinthian like an ocean, lapping at his clothed skin and filling his lungs with every shaky breath as invisible eyes took stock of his bloodied state.

"May I witness you, Dream Lord Morpheus?"

"You may." The disembodied voice rang out, each syllable taut and measured as the grave as Dream acquised to indulging his most deadly nightmare with a physical form.

In a blink, the blackened throne was filled by a familiar but no less imposing presence. The inky hair of Lord Morpheus stood in all directions and the deep void of the robes which wrapped around his thin frame swirled and twinkled like the evening sky.

"To what do I owe this visit, my Corinthian, Blade of the Nightmare."

"I request permission to move against the School of Mensis." The Corinthian purred, standing from position to move towards his Lord with a serpentine gait, the allure of his physical form proving too difficult to resist. "The people of the Unseen Village speak of a monster he has crafted to challenge your rule. An abomination known as the One Reborn. I will bring you its many eyes for the disrespect while your shaggy-haired Hunter continues his pursuit of the Hemwick harridans."

The laugh of the Dream Lord is low and the Corinthian basks in it with pure delight for only a moment before schooling his features back to a familiar neutrality.

"You would move to kill that fool Micolash for such a lowly and petty show of disrespect? We both know his abomination could never hope to hold the true power of an Old One."

"I would kill him for less." The Corinthian smirked back before remembering himself and offering a slight bow. "With your permission of course, my Lord."

"Indeed." Dream hummed. His marble fingers rose from the arm of the chair to beckon sweetly. "Regardless, remove your helm and join me by my throne, my nightmare. It will please me to hold these discussions of your intentions with your true face and not this crow-like veneer you adopt as part of your games."

The Corinthian snatched his helm from his head with an undignified speed as his feet carried him swiftly to his Lord, his hardened heart fluttering at the close proximity.

hello my dear i hope you've had a good weekend! gotta say posting a "what pokemon is dream" poll featuring options like munna and then going radio silent is possibly the funniest way to not post on tumblr for a couple days?? if you got thrown into the shadow realm by dream of the endless then uh. rip. anyway i'm still consumed by dream/hob/destruction brainworms so here's today's Concept™

so. dream and hob are hanging out more often! dream and destruction have had their Spiderman Pointing Meme moment! sometimes the three of them are all hanging out! it's generally going pretty great! except that dream and hob are both pining and completely unaware of the pining. olly, in possession of eyes and a brain cell, sees the pining and has been trying to get them together. he's tried subtly suggesting it to both of them. he's tried unsubtly suggesting it. talking isn't working. so, plan b: make dream snap.

dream drops by generally without warning, but a weekend when he knows hob doesn't have plans and he hasn't visited in a while is a decent bet. so, while hob's still asleep, olly gets a cage on his cock and works an inflatable plug into his hole, and hob only wakes up while he's pumping it up enough that it'll settle nicely inside him. hob loves it when olly spends the day fucking with him, after all, and if dream doesn't show up, hey, maybe he'll call this prep and give hob the fisting he's been angling for.

dream does show up. while hob's on the couch, cuddled up with olly, working on some marking when he's not distracted by the plug that destruction just keeps pumping bigger. there's no way he'd be able to walk convincingly normally out of the room to get the plug out, and dream settles in for a chat, so hob figures he just... has to cope with this. and then olly pumps the plug bigger again. hob knows he's got a hell of a poker face, but he's pretty sure the plug's big enough that it's starting to show through his belly, and if olly keeps going it's only going to get more obvious.

something something dream does eventually notice hob's belly bulging out and destruction looking incredibly smug. and once he acknowledges that something's definitely going on with hob, hob just... collapses. just goes limp and spreads his legs and whines, showing off how stuffed he is and how soaked his sweatpants are from his caged cock leaking between his legs. dream very much does not have the self control to resist that. so hob winds up in olly's lap, legs spread open, nicely presented for dream to fuck him. with as big and monstrous a cock as he feels like using.

-🐈‍⬛

My love!!! Good news, I have not be banished to the darkness <33 I can't work out whether Dream would be more offended about being associated with munna or Mr Mime. I think he would probably cry either way.

Anyway. LOVE the idea of Olly blatantly teasing Dream by practically fucking Hob right there in front of him. And Hob is well trained by this point - he's quiet, docile, makes good conversation even as the plug balloons inside of him and he can literally feel his inner walls burning and spasming around the intrusion. Dream would almost be able to pretend that nothing is wrong, except for the fact that he can smell Hob’s arousal as his trapped cock leaks shamelessly. He keeps looking at the growing bulge in his tummy that's showing through Hob’s t-shirt, wondering what it is, how big it is. Olly is just waiting patiently for Dream to break.

And boy does he break! It's a good thing Hob is so well stretched, because Dream gives himself a big, pulsing cock with a massively thick head and a ridged shaft. There's no way he's going to have dick envy next to Destruction. Yeah, theres a bit of competitive fucking going on, and yeah, Hob is very much benefiting from it. Olly definitely teases him for being such a greedy slut, and Dream gradually gets brave enough to join in and lovingly tease his favourite human.

Dream and Olly spend the rest of the afternoon taking turns coming in Hob’s hole, until he's messy, swollen and nearly unconscious. He gets plugged back up, but even the inflating plug is almost too small for his hole now! Poor baby. He's definitely doesn't get that marking finished. And all he can think about is when Dream might come over again, because he already misses being stuffed with two different kinds of cum. His sexdrive increases so much, Destruction is probably going to need all the help he can get 😉

Happy New Year, everyone! Have a summary of some of my favourite art pieces of 2022 - brief descriptions/characters and fandoms/links to where the individual pieces are posted (if I have posted them publicly at all) can be found under the cut!

January: A portrait of Helsing from The Vampire Dies In No Time, for this fic here.

February: A Valentine’s Day Exchange gift, featuring Purson from Mairimashita! Iruma-kun! handing over a “Devilentine” card, which is here on Tumblr.

March: A sketch of Opera from Mairimashita! Iruma-kun! as a skeleton.

April: A sketch of a stained-glass window featuring Bob Clergy from The Vampire Dies In No Time, with Helsing gazing up at it.

May: An illustration reminiscent of a movie poster for this Indiana Jones AU fic, starring Azz and Clara from Mairimashita! Iruma-kun!, also here on Tumblr.

June: A redraw of the “I’ll slit your throat, that’ll shut you up!” - “You’re beautiful...” scene from Princess Mononoke, with Kuwabara and Shinji from The Vampire Dies In No Time.

July: An illustration for a still-unposted Mob Psycho 100 fic, in which Tome (possessed by Dimple) kicks an enemy goon in the face while doing a backflip.

August: An illustration of Stanley from The Stanley Parable in front of a wall of paintings holding screenshots of the game, which was drawn for this fic and is here on Tumblr.

September: I was writing my Bachelor Thesis during this month, and also moved right after handing it in, sooooo... no art in September. But I hope you enjoy this meme I made to remind myself of the deadline.

October: The hands of Dream of the Endless and Hob Gadling from The Sandman only barely touching each other, an illustration for my Soulmate AU fic, art also here on Tumblr.

November: One panel of a MUCH longer Sandman comic based on the lyrics of “Who Wants To Live Forever”, the full thing can be found here on Tumblr.

December: The Vampire Dies In No Time fanart, featuring Northdin, a vampire, applying a turning bite to Bob Clergy’s neck.

Interwoven | Chapter 2

Chapters:  2/6 Fandom:  The Sandman (Comics & TV 2022) Rating:  Mature/Explicit Relationships:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Original Female Character, Dream/Reader Characters:  Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Original Female Character, Hob Gadling, Original Characters, Matthew the Raven, Lucienne, Calliope, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Calliope, The Endless, Eve, Delirium, Death, Desire Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Past Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence, Jealousy, Trauma Responses Tags: Character Development, Established Relationships, General complicated feelings, meeting the family, meeting the friends, talk about fantasies, domestic life, fluff, past Relationships, ANGST, OFC: Dahlia, Named Reader, 1st POV

Summary: She had very few people in her life and while he denied it, Dream had so many. People that cared for him, people that warned her. Or in other terms, Dream and Dahlia’s casual relationship is turning not so casual. Chapter Summary: Birthdays, Bars, and Blushes

4th in the Fragments Series | Read on AO3 Writing Masterlist Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Previous in Series: Possession Next in Series: The Complications of Family (Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this posted here. Still working through some grief and just feeling generally depressed after my grandma’s passing. I’m trying to shake it off and cope and writing usually does that) Chapter 2: Anissa

Dream was right. I hated when he was right, but I do get anxiety when dealing with uncertain situations and right now I was anxious. Birthdays weren’t big on my list. Mom and Dad had died when I was almost seventeen and were the main celebrator. They would wake me up and give me a present throughout the day, letting me choose what I wanted for dinner and then Mom would always make me a cake to celebrate. Sometimes we’d go to the library and pick out new books, sometimes we’d go somewhere extra special like the zoo or a show. But when they died and I started living with my abusive older partner, that had all gone out the window. I spent the first few years hopeful and then quickly learned to get used to the taste of disappointment. After that, there was simply no point in even hoping. Thomas, my most recent ex, forgot and I wasn’t inclined to remind him so we never celebrated in the one year we were together. I didn’t have any more relatives or even friends after escaping the first relationship and years later, Anissa was my only friend and we had gotten close in recent years. And I had Morpheus now even if we were/were not dating. Even then, this was more support than I’ve had in years and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t want to expect anything at all. When you hope, you set yourself up for disappointment. I wish none of them had found out what the day was. There would be no anxiety over Morpheus meeting Nissa or taking him into public or trying to figure out how to answer my coworker’s questions. And poor Hob was pulled into the mix. At some point, Matthew had flown by to drop off a small package, cawing a quick “Happy Birthday” before rushing off like he was in a hurry. Morpheus had definitely told them what day it was which made me extra suspicious as I looked at the small black box the raven had left behind. It was fancier than anything I had in my small apartment which was a giveaway in itself that it was one, from the Dream King, and two, from the Dreaming itself. Wrapped in a delicate, perfect ribbon, the box fit in the palm of my hand and had no card. Chewing on my lip, I carefully unwrapped it to preserve the ribbon and opened it up to find a necklace with earrings more beautiful than anything I owned. It was simple but immaculate featuring an onyx teardrop stone encased in ornate metal swirls on a rose gold chain, the earrings matching the design but smaller and dainty. I could almost feel the essence of Morpheus in the item, a steady hum I had become so familiar with and able to distinguish easily now in everything he made. The kernel of hope curled to life and I had to force myself not to get choked up at the idea that I’d received a birthday present. It was gorgeous, so stunning it felt unreal, and I smiled at the sparkling black stones, staring at them throughout most of the day and unable to keep from touching them. I was positively giddy over it and almost hated it. The evening was coming soon and I distracted myself more with getting dressed. Anissa had suggested a different place than before, a nicer more cocktail style bar than our usual place. I was glad considering the whole ordeal with Morpheus scaring my now former coworker, Cameron, had sullied that bar. But a nicer place meant I had to dress up so I took my time doing my makeup and choosing a decent dress and coat. I figured if I wore a heavy enough jacket it would keep me warm on the walk there even in a dress. I’d just fully clasped the halter straps of my dark green gown when I felt the tingling sensation of power coating over my skin like a gentle breeze along the open back of my dress. My eyes darted to the doorway in the bathroom mirror precisely as Morpheus walked in like he owned the place, long black wool peacoat in place with a black plain shirt, jeans, and laced up boots underneath. His sharp blue eyes met mine as he leaned against the doorway, a small smile tilting up his lips. “Hello, little dreamer,” he whispered as he took in my form, the way the emerald fabric followed my curves and the large expanse of skin it left exposed.

I dropped my arms, smirking at him in return through the mirror and feeling some of my anxiety ease at his presence, “Hello, dreamlord.”

Turning, my long hair skimming along my shoulders to fall to my back, I stepped closer and leaned against the doorway next to him so I could stare up at his amused face, “Do I clean up decent enough?” Morpheus’ eyes darkened and he took his time to follow the line of my body, at the draped neck of my neckline, the silk of the fabric as it hugged my waist, and the fall of the skirt as it fell to my feet. I could feel the burn of his gaze the entire way and swallowed, my mouth going dry as he drank me in. This was the most dressed up I’d been since the masquerade ball dream I’d had months ago, when he had danced and touched and teased me relentlessly. It made me want to dress up more if only to see his reaction. His hand lifted, knuckles grazing my cheek and dragging down to my chin, neck, collarbones, to the dip of my necklines. My breath was coming out in shallow pants, bottom lip pulling between my teeth. I would never get used to his touch, his attention. It was like drawing the focus of the moon, overwhelming and enthralling. Morpheus leaned forward, forehead touching mine and breath ghosting along my lips, his voice a dark whisper full of promise, “You are breathtaking. You always are.” “Flatterer,” I joked though my heart was beating in my ears and all I could focus on was the heat of his skin and his breath mixing with mine. His lips grazed mine in the barest hint of a kiss as if he was restraining himself, but the simple touch was enough to undo me entirely. I pressed forward and kissed him, moaning as he let go and met me eagerly, arms wrapping around my waist and pulling me forward. His palms flattened along my exposed back and a gasp left my lips to be swallowed by him as his tongue explored my mouth. He held me tightly while kissing me deeply, causing liquid fire to spread and pool in me. My hands grasped the fabric of his shirt and fingers dug into the thin width of his waist. I wanted to touch the cool, hard skin of his stomach, feel his muscles as he moved against me. I wanted to call the whole thing tonight off.

It would be a far better night to stay in. Just say sorry and pull birthday rights so I could stay home and let the Endless completely drown me in his touch and not leave the bedroom. But even as my body screamed at me, reason began to slowly seep in as the need to tear his clothes off rose to dangerous levels. It was getting tiring having to leave the house when staying at home was so much better. I slowed, his soft black hair already between my fingers, and let out a low groan, “I don’t think we have time before Hob gets here.” The Nightmare King growled low while giving me another searing kiss, chasing me even as I attempted to lean back, “He can wait outside.” The man had zero patience for anything else in the universe when he wanted something and was being denied it, I was beginning to realize. So far, it mostly seemed to be when people or things got in the way of us having sex. But the words did their job of snapping me from the intensity of our lust as I laughed and put a hand on his chest to keep him from lifting me on the counter and having his way right then, “We have later, I promise. I’m not going to make him wait outside like a sad college roommate.” He sighed and recomposed himself, cupping my cheek in his hand with a look as if I had kicked his puppy, “Very well then.” Shaking my head, I smiled up at him, “Thank you for the present Matthew dropped off earlier. Can you help me put them on?”

He kissed my forehead softly and nodded, “Of course. I trust they were to your liking?” I nodded in reply and held his hand, leading him back to the living room where the small box resting on the coffee table held the necklace and earrings. He took the dainty chain out and moved my hair aside, the small onyx pendant resting above the top of my cleavage. With a gentle kiss to the back of my neck, the jewelry was secured and in place. The earrings followed next until all pieces were in place. It was definitely the most beautiful thing I’d ever owned and I couldn’t help touching it, feeling the small current of his power hidden inside. It made me wonder if everyone could feel it, that slight hum of something otherworldly that surrounded him and everything he created. It was almost impossible to ignore and something I had to get used to, now signifying anytime he was near me. “You will always be connected to me through this, if you should ever have need of me while separated,” Morpheus whispered into my skin, hands settling on my waist. “This isn’t like a tracking beacon or anything, is it?” I teased, but also half serious.

He frowned and I started to consider if I wasn’t actually correct, “Anything connected to the Dreaming, I can locate but the intention is more to be a way to communicate an emergency should you have one.” So yes and no. I let the answer slide though, knowing how paranoid he was about my safety, especially since Thomas had showed up and pushed his way into my apartment. Being human didn’t help his nerves about me and sometimes he acted as if I could shatter at the smallest accident.

“Well either way, it’s beautiful,” I hummed. We stood there embraced for a while and caught up, him telling me about the latest delegation to come and visit the Dreaming. Now that the realm was getting back in order finally after the past couple years of Morpheus’ return, other gods and delegations from other worlds and realms were visiting to get reacquainted. Half the time the names he told me went over my head, having no clue who he was talking about, but it was interesting to hear either way and I liked hearing him discuss his work. He took it very seriously, put it above all else, and so sharing it showed a little bit of the pride he took with it. Lucienne was taking a more active role beyond librarian and now acting more appropriately as a right hand to the Dream King, organizing his “calendar” so to speak and being a mediary when he wasn’t present. She had held the Dreaming together while he was gone and I was happy to see her having something that challenged her beyond the library. It especially helped when he wanted to visit me as she kept the place running and freed up his time to come to the Waking world.

A sharp knock interrupted us and Morpheus laid a quick kiss on my shoulder before I could fully process the interruption, moving to the door himself. Acting as if it was totally normal to open the door to my apartment, he unlocked and answered it, greeting Hob on the other side standing in the hallway. The history professor blinked, obviously caught off guard, and grinned at both of us, stepping inside, “Wasn’t quite expecting you to answer, but you always have been full of surprises.”

Morpheus didn’t say anything, only raised a brow and shut the door behind the man. I couldn’t blame him, if Dream had answered the door anywhere I was going I would have been stunned. It was weird, seeing both well dressed immortal men in my mediocre little apartment, but life had been a whole lot weirder since meeting the dreamlord and I was trying to learn to take it all in stride. After all, I was now friends with a talking bird, pumpkin headed janitor, dream librarian, and now an immortal man.

The man in question pivoted to face me and the grin grew even wider, brightening his face, “And happy birthday to you, fair lady!” He produced a sunflower from behind his back and made an overdone flourish of bowing, presenting it to me in an outstretched fist.

I smiled and laughed, slightly blushing and not used to having the attention all on me, taking the flower from him, “Thank you, Hob. I appreciate the gesture.” The man was dressed in tan slacks and a loose white button up long sleeved shirt, a brown vest over it and shiny leather shoes. He was very handsome in a more grounded way than the dreamlord was, more of a rugged good looks type of man with his stubble and earthy tones and longer hair. His charm amplified it all, half smile constantly twisting his lips and lighting up the room. It was no surprise that if anyone was going to become friends with Dream of the Endless, it would be the one man I couldn’t see anyone hating really.

I went to put the sunflower into some water, hearing from the kitchen as Hob teased Morpheus about essentially wearing the same thing constantly and him arguing that his appearance changed depending on perception so it was pointless to change outfits. It felt…nice, having the two friends in my home, as if the place had warmed up and they were just a normal group of friends. If you ignored that they were anything but. I came back to find Morpheus slightly more annoyed but in a longer, nicer coat with dark black floral embroidery along the edges and a black button up shirt underneath, the collar held together with a golden pin. It was subtly different but was nicer. I tried not to grin, knowing it would just annoy him more if I pointed out the outfit change and the fact that Hob had gotten to him. “Alright, you both ready to go?” I asked innocently. Those blue eyes of his swirled, lips pressed into a thin line, and the dreamlord only nodded while his friend winked. The air outside wasn’t too bad even with the sun fully set and the stars blazing outside. Anissa had at least considered my hatred of driving and made sure to pick a close enough place that I could walk without needing to hail a cab or drive myself. My own coat was cinched at the waist around me to protect me from the cold and Dream had taken my hand into his while Hob had jokingly offered his elbow, the three of us walking side by side down the mostly empty sidewalk.

For a second, I wondered if the Endless would be upset at how much Hob seemed to be flirty with me, knowing that much less had set him off before. But he either didn’t notice, which I doubted, or didn’t care. Maybe since it was someone he knew and trusted, it didn’t phase him or he simply knew that was how Hob was..

I hadn’t fully warned Anissa that I was bringing Dream, merely sending her a quick text saying I had invited some friends. She’d sent an eye emoji back but I didn’t respond, figuring the less information I gave the less likely I would be fielding questions and getting more nervous before the night came. I knew her well enough to think she wouldn’t start a full argument but I also knew she was hot headed sometimes and thought she knew best….same with the Dream King. They were both stubborn. He wasn’t human, didn’t have to deal directly with them often, and so I wasn’t sure how he’d react to her making digs at him. He didn’t seem to like her all that well either. The anxiety was coming back and I let the sound of the street and the intermittent chatting of the two friends on either side take over as my thoughts drowned me. This felt too big. Introducing the guy you’ve been kinda-sorta seeing for the past handful of months to your friend felt too big. Yes, he had taken the first step in this, had planned for me to meet Hob but I could reason that he was simply introducing the only two humans in his life. Anissa didn’t know about the Dreaming or Dream Walking or anything considered supernatural. What if this was a mistake? What if he realized how mundane and dumb and boring my life was and he lost interest? What if Morpheus denied any feelings or intentions towards me and then I’d feel embarrassed and stupid and- The hand in mine gave me a small squeeze and I broke out of my unblinking stare to look up at him, the knowing look in his eyes catching me. He was looking at me with an inquisitive look, a brow twitching up as if to ask if I was okay while also reassuring me that he was here with me. My breathing had started to come in quick, panicked pants without me noticing and I worked to calm down and take deep breaths. I was spiraling. It was his idea to come and meet her, I repeated to myself. And before I knew it, the bar was in front of us, nicer than any place I was used to frequenting which didn’t help my nerves at all. I was a simple type of girl. I didn’t care about anything fancy or appearances or high end things. It made me feel like a kid, trying desperately not to ruin anything expensive after being allowed to sit with the adults. Hob opened the door and Dream led me in, holding my hand securely in an effort to sooth the apprehension he could feel coursing through me. His thumb ran over the back of my hand, the chilled skin sending tingles as I felt a little more grounded. The lights were dim inside, a jazz band in the corner playing live with a few people dancing in front while a good remainder of the place was filled with circular tables couples and groups sat at, dressed up and drinking over candlelight. The place wasn’t too crowded for the evening and in the back corner I could see Anissa’s long red hair, pulled up into a high ponytail and a figure hugging white dress on. Her eyes met mine and then swiveled to the two guys at my back, eyebrows noticeably rising even at a distance. I swallowed a groan and pulled Morpheus behind me with a tight grip, headed to her direction while silently praying for a drama free night. I hated my birthday.

Reaching the table, I shot her a quick thin smile and let the dreamlord take off my coat to avoid meeting Anissa’s eyes, my own gaze latching onto the two shots of liquor already on the table. I grabbed one and didn’t even ask, feeling all their eyes on me as I shot it back and felt the sharp burn of what was very likely tequila. “Okay, yeah, that’s for you,” Nissa commented dryly with wide eyes, brows high into her browline, “I’m sorry, do you need more?”

Clearing my throat as the warm liquid lit my insides on fire, I shook my head and took a seat on the stool next to her, “No, I’m good. Hi.” “Hi, happy birthday” she incredulously, eyes flicking to the two men taking seats next to me, “Hi?” I eyed the second shot briefly, feeling anxiety tightening my throat as I tried to introduce everyone over the sound of the music, “Uh, yeah, this is Anissa, my friend and coworker. Nissa, this is Hob…and Morpheus.” No explanation, only their names because I couldn’t explain them.

I waited for her to take in the way the latter male sat close to me, hand on my waist as he watched me carefully and seemed to not be caring that he was being introduced as he was more worried about my wellbeing. She was smart, she’d connect the dots to who he was even though I had never mentioned his name before. Because if I had ever called him Dream or Morpheus in front of her, she definitely would have commented on the oddity of it. Hob, the godsend that he was, took the reins and held out a hand, smiling wide and easily, “Hello! So you work with Dahlia at the book publishers?” Anissa continued to stare, taking in Dream’s appearance and stoic demeanor, the protective way he hovered before turning to the other man, “Yeah, we’ve been in the same department for the past few years. How do you all know each other?” “Uh, Hob here is a history professor and friends with Morpheus,” I tried to nonchalantly explain, “And Morpheus-” “Dahlia and I are involved,” the Dream King cut in, eyes cool and face almost icy. The fingers at my waist clenched almost possessively and I wanted the alcohol to kick in much faster. Her dark brown eyes met mine then went back to him, taking in his demeanor and appearance as it all clicked together, “Ooh, so you’re the fun.” I wanted to die. “Pardon?” he shot back and I could see Hob out the corner of my eye rub his temple. “I mean I’ve heard…not a whole lot about you, actually, but glad to see you have a name and are willing to come in public with her,” Anissa replied with a smile that was too sharp to be genuine. Out of context, the statement would have sounded relatively normal and not at all loaded, but I knew the underlying accusation. “Fun is good but I think you deserve someone that will make you feel comfortable, love you, accept you as you are! I know you’ve had some issues in the past-” “That’s an understatement,” I muttered. “-But! I know you deserve someone that will see it and accept it and be considerate to what you need. You’re having fun for now but maybe when the fun starts to make you sad, it’s time to call it,” Anissa finished.

She’d taken me out when Dream and I had been fighting and I’d felt small and insecure and miserable. She understood that this was something I was having a hard time putting to words, trying to put what we were into clean boxes and failing. Unfortunately, while she cared, she wanted something else for me, not believing that this would end well. And so…she’d tried to set me up with Cameron…which had ended well.

“I am more than willing to be seen in public with Dahlia,” Morpheus answered back curtly, “Especially on her birthday, lest you try to pair her with another male coworker of hers.” Dear fucking god. I grabbed the second shot from the table and threw it back, letting the burn of it drown the absolute absurdity that was happening right now. Five minutes. It had only taken five minutes for the whole thing to go to absolute shit because of course. Everyone around me had the biggest heads and egos. “Can we not?” I asked, placing both hands on the table to try and cut in between them, “Maybe everyone…chill?” Anissa pressed her lips tightly together, locked in a glaring match with the Endless at my side, “Of course, Dahl. It’s your birthday, I wouldn’t want to be inconsiderate.” “Are you implying that I would?” I wanted to shove my head into my arms and disappear. Someone tugged on my arm and I turned to find Hob now behind me, gently pulling me from the table and out of Morpheus’ grasp, “How about we go to the bar and get you a big birthday drink, darling?” I stared at him with wide eyes and a look that definitely asked if he was crazy, shaking my head fervently, but he managed to pull me away. Both parties left at the table went to protest but stopped as Hob let out a quick, “We’ll be right back!” and dragged me away. “Are you out of your mind leaving them alone together?” I hissed at him, hand swallowed by his large one as he tugged me a short way away to the bar. “Listen, sometimes you have to just let people duke it out,” the immortal argued back, saddling up to the bar top, “They’ll get it out of their system and either come to an agreement or hate each other but neither are your fault and you don’t need to bare witness to it.” “That’s my friend and my…person…” the words stopped and I let myself drift off, trying to glance back at the table and two we were discussing. I could see the stiffness in Dream’s posture and the way Anissa’s lips twisted as she spoke. My mind was already conjuring the worst case scenario. Hob stared at my profile, absentmindedly waving down the bartender, “I’ve been meaning to ask about that. You and my old friend. How did that happen?” My eyes were still on the two arguing until my companion gently turned my face to look at him with a finger under my chin. I almost jumped at the contact, not expecting it and blinking large eyes owlishly at him, “You’re asking how me and Dream met?” He smirked and tapped my nose with the finger that turned my head, “Eyes here, love. Let them hash it out, no point in watching. And yes, I’m asking how you met.” The bartender came by and he ordered a whiskey while I got a cranberry vodka sour, the leftover tequila coating my throat reminding me why I hated the liquor. “I would have thought he’d tell you,” I answered and resisted trying to look at the person in question. Hob let out a bark of a laugh, one side of his lips twisting in deep amusement, “Might I remind you, he didn’t even tell me who he was until yesterday when you did. Sharing isn’t exactly a skill of his especially when it’s about himself.” He paused and a considerate look seemed to light up his warm eyes, “I think that’s why I like you. For years he’s been this big secret, this mysterious figure I couldn’t discuss with anyone. Him and the whole not dying thing. But now there’s you and it feels…relieving to have someone to talk to and share the experience with.” I smiled at that, pondering over the words. He was right. Dream of the Endless had only been in my life for a blink of an eye compared to Hob but it felt restricting sometimes that I couldn’t really discuss him. You can’t exactly go around and tell people you were seeing the anthropomorphic personification of dreams and nightmares without ending up with a wellness check. So it was nice to have someone who knew him in a human way and felt the frustration.

“Yeah, I feel the same,” I replied absentmindedly. He tapped me on the nose again and I jerked, giving him a small glare, “Now, back to how you two met.” “It’s complicated,” I sighed, “I feel like everything about us is complicated. There’s never a straight answer.” “So I take it you didn’t meet out in a bar or out in the streets?” he joked and thanked the bartender as our drinks were placed in front of us, “I mean, technically he picked me up in a pub.” I could feel the anxiety of wondering what was happening behind us and tried desperately to stay focused on the cold drink in my hands, the way the condensation slid over my skin and dripped onto the counter, “No. You do know about him being captured, right?” The other man nodded while taking a drink of his whiskey, “Well, I am apparently something called a Dream Walker. I am completely lucid when I dream and can actually go into other people’s. I didn’t even know it was something I could really do until a couple of years ago when he was freed.” I told him about how it was apparently something that was in my family, though with Morpheus’ capture the only person that had done it before was my grandmother when she was a child. Both her and my mother were dead by the time I could Dream Walk on my own, having believed it was a crazy story my grandma told, but luckily she had warned me not to interfere with other’s dreams as if it were a children’s bedtime story. And I’d followed that rule for two years…until I’d gotten drunk and destroyed my ex’s dream after finding him in bed with my neighbor.

The King of Dreams usually tampered down on any Dream Walker’s abilities when they first manifested, had never let one grow into their full power out of worry it may damage the realm, but it was too late to do that with me. And so he let me be, after very angrily arguing with me. “I thought he was going to kill me,” the words sounded a little ridiculous now, seeing how it ended up being the opposite, and Hob’s answering grin told me he thought the same.

“You did? Nah, I think he likes to be argued with sometimes. Keeps him humble…or somewhat humble,” he laughed. I laughed and drank the sour alcoholic drink, my body feeling warmer and loose as the two shots previously started to sink in a bit more, “Well, I know that now. Back then he was terrifying. He sent a nightmare after me.” Hob choked and coughed, eyes wide and red as he blinked at me. I only chuckled and grinned, “Yeah, this big tentacle monster thing. And then the next day he met me in the Waking world at that café after I ran from him and I thought he was going to murder me in front of everyone. But instead he said it wasn’t my fault I was how I was and let me be…but then he started asking questions and we started talking and I think he was flirting with me. I don’t know, there was just a shift and slowly it built up into whatever this is.”

Seeing both our drinks were empty, he waved the bartender down while I cautioned a look back at the table. The annoyance was gone from Anissa’s face, almost sad and blank, and I could see that Morpheus was talking, but I couldn’t figure out the tone of the conversation. But his posture wasn’t as rigid and neither of them were dead so that was a plus. It was killing me that I didn’t know what was being said, what was happening but Hob nudged me with another drink and I turned back to face him. “I think sometimes that his time away changed him more than he’s willing to admit,” his fingers tapped on the countertop, eyes reminiscent, “Don’t ever mention this to him because he will deny and probably flip over a table, but I feel like he’s desperate to build connections. Over a hundred years in isolation did a number and now it’s like he doesn’t want to be alone entirely.” “Touch starved,” I blurted, staring at his fingers as they tapped and tapped their own rhythm, “He’s definitely touch starved.”

He nodded, almost a little sadly, “I’ve seen him more in the two years since he’s been back than the six hundred plus that I’ve known him. Honestly it wasn’t entirely a surprise that he popped up and was suddenly dating someone-” “Oh we’re not dating,” I cut him off with a wave of my hand, “I mean, this is…casual, I guess.” Hob furrowed his brows, mouth quirked in a way that screamed bullshit, “Oh yeah, because my old friend definitely brings every person he sees casually to meet me. Darling, I don’t mean to call you delusional, but…” He gave me a pointed look and I winced, “You mean something to him and it’s definitely not casual. I’ve never met anyone in his personal life, but he wanted me to meet you.” I sighed, chewing on my bottom lip and staring at the glass in my hands, “It’s hard to put into words. What we are…we’ve never really talked about it in certain terms. He says he’s mine and I’m his, but I always figured that was like the overly romantic way of saying we were exclusive. I don’t know what we are, really, and I’m afraid to bring it up.” Hand reaching up and rubbing my back, the warmth of his hand soothing on the expanse of my exposed skin, he chuckled a bit, “In 1889, I told him that I thought he kept meeting me because we were friends and he was lonely and he was so furious that he walked out. It doesn’t surprise me in the least that he hasn’t bothered to clear things up. I doubt he even fully knows, but he is very attached to you.” Blinking up at him under his lashes, I stared at his profile in the dim light and found he wasn’t looking at me but back at the table where Morpheus was talking with Anissa. There was a slight smile on his lips, a fondness when he talked about his friend and perhaps something more. His own kind of attraction to the dreamlord. Hob was old, charming, and a relentless flirt. I couldn’t help but think of all the relationships and lovers he had probably taken in the past, all the things he might have tried. And when faced with Morpheus, who had his own pull… I couldn’t help but take in the angle of his jaw and the strong line of his nose. He was handsome in an entirely different way from Dream, a more masculine way, stubble coating his jaw adding a ruggedness to him. With alcohol starting to seep in, the hand rubbing at my back shot tingles through me. Before I could properly think about the question or my line of thinking, I blurted out, “Have you and he ever…?” Brown eyes turned to meet mine, that affection still dancing in the dark irises. I took in the natural tilt of his lips, the humor and lightness that seemed a permanent fixture to him. He didn’t answer, only met my gaze and gave me a small flirtatious smile before dropping his hand from my back, “Come on, looks like those two have finally settled and we should probably save him.” With a wink, he grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers and I realized the alcohol had seeped in a lot more than I thought as he kept me from stumbling on my dress back to the table. My mind was having a hard time focusing, distracted by what was happening, and all I could picture were those same tanned hands on pale skin and his fingers in ink black messy hair. My skin felt too hot and tight. Suddenly lifting my hand and giving me a small twirl I wasn’t expecting, Hob deposited me in a less than graceful stumble into Morpheus’ arms who wrapped them firmly around my waist and settled me half on his knee at the table. I comforted instantly at the feel of him and the smooth texture of his coat against my bare back, my body feeling warm and toasty. “Are you two done fighting?” I asked and was startled at the slightest way my words felt in slow motion. I could feel Dream stiffen and turn to his friend with a glare who shrugged with a laugh. Anissa looked resigned, taking me in next to him, “We weren’t fighting, just having a disagreement and yes, we are…. Though what kind of pretentious name is Morpheus anyways?” “Nissa!” I reprimanded sharply. She raised her hand in surrender, “Okay, okay, I’m done!”

“Did you get her inebriated?” the man in question asked while his fingers gripped the soft skin of my hip through the fabric. I mumbled my dissent at being called drunk while Hob pointed a finger at me, “Technically she did that to herself when she started the night by downing two shots and she’s fine! It’s her birthday, let her loosen up if she has to deal with both of you tonight.” My coworker scoffed and looked at him, “Excuse me, I don’t even know you.” Hob grinned, “I don’t have to know you. I could tell from how she almost had a damn panic attack getting here she was worried about both of you. That tells me all I need.” I gave him points on being observant but was mostly feeling disgruntled that I was being discussed by everyone while literally sitting between them all, “I’m right here, you know.” “Yes and you look lovely,” he winked. I rolled my eyes and settled into Dream’s arms, partially pleased that he was still holding me even though we were in public and he never seemed like a publicly affectionate being. But he held me to him while the other two bantered, Hob driving the conversation to them to give us a break. Anissa had found a worthy partner to verbally duel with and the other man definitely was taking joy in trying to charm her. Turning my head into him, I asked my partner quietly, “You alright?” The Dream King hummed in acquiescence, tracing lazy circles in my dress, “We had a discussion and came to an understanding. Apologies, I did not wish to worry you about our meeting or cause you distress. Are you well?” I nodded, wondering what kind of an “understanding” they came to and what was even discussed, “Yeah, me and Hob just talked and drank a bit.” My mind flashed to the images I had unintentionally visualized earlier as well as those hands on my back as well and I flushed, diverting my attention to the rest of the bar. I could feel Dream’s eyes on me, knew he was taking in the blush on my cheeks and hoped he chalked it up to the alcohol I had drank in quick succession that was now hitting me all at once. I was slightly tipsy and apparently horny. I needed to get myself together and stop fantasizing about them. Yes, they were two ungodly attractive men. But they were friends and I’m sure Morpheus wouldn’t appreciate me imagining another man, no matter how close they were. “… I do not share.” He had told me that forever ago, had warned me about how possessive he could be. And even if he had loosened up on it, directed it to be a less toxic form of possessiveness, I doubted he had changed that drastically.

Hob proved to, in fact, be a very good mediary. He kept the conversation going with talking about books and history and of all things, the early stages of the printing industry. To Morpheus’ annoyance, he called more drinks over with the excuse that it was my birthday and if I wanted to get hammered then I could. When Anissa would ask basic questions we couldn’t answer like what did Morpheus do for a living or how we met or how long the two men had been friends, the professor easily diverted the conversation or gave an obtuse answer. I’m sure she was noticing how the conversation kept getting steered away, how little information Dream gave or even seemed to talk now that their own argument was over, but she didn’t push it and I was grateful.

Nissa apologized for how she acted, if only after a couple more drinks, saying she only wanted me to be happy after everything with my exes and I waved her off. It didn’t stop her from making small passive aggressive comments towards Morpheus but he seemed less reactionary now and more able to ignore her. I understood it all. Both of them argued out of care for me, and also ego, but I’d rather it be shoved away and not talked about anymore. I was still uncomfortable with anger and fighting in general and it being about me made it more uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to people caring enough to argue. As the band switched up to a livelier tune, Hob managed to persuade Anissa to dance, carting her off and leaving me alone with the Endless. His tolerance was high, hers was low, and it wasn’t hard to keep her distracted so we could have alone time. My head felt slightly fuzzy and I’d switched to drinking water simply because I would still have to walk home and didn’t want a hangover in the morning, but overall I felt relaxed. Dream’s lips pressed to the dip in my shoulder and the simple touch sent a wave of electricity shooting through my already heated skin, “How are you feeling, little dreamer?” “I think Hob’s trying to get everyone drunk,” I chuckled, leaning into him and the feel of his kiss, “But I’m good. We should probably head back soon though before it gets too cold.” I’d taken up residence between his thighs, his long legs still stretched out on the ground even though he was sitting on a stool, standing but fully wrapped in his hold. His fingers drifted up and down my sides, taking satisfaction in the way I shivered at the small act. I could tell he was all for leaving, probably had been from the start. Coming out tonight was less a want and more of a need to be present, to be involved in my life and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was half to stake a claim on me. He knew Anissa had tried to set me up and wasn’t pleased, probably wanting her to know I was off limits for future matchmaking.

But he didn’t like being amongst people or playing human, I knew that much, and I’m sure he found it all very droll. His fingers went to my bare back again, tracing the skin and dip along my spine. I let my head fall back to rest on his shoulder, closing my eyes and relaxing under the haze of alcohol and the delicious feeling of him touching me. His breath brushed along the shell of my ear and I shivered as he whispered, “You were blushing rather hard earlier. What was on your mind?” I froze, my mind taking a second to process the words. So he had noticed that. Of course he had, he notices everything but I didn’t think he’d ask directly. “Uh nothing,” I answered innocently. His nail gently scraped my skin and I had to hold in a moan at how it felt, pulling my lower lip between my teeth, “You are a poor liar, little dreamer. I have seen all of you bared beneath me, seen what makes you blush so. What are you afraid to tell me?” My breath hitched and I opened my eyes, blinking at the dim lights hanging from the ceiling and feeling the thrum of music all around us. Even in a crowded room and our friends nearby, I felt like we were alone in our own bubble, the sound muffled except here with his voice so close. I turned my head, catching the dark swirl of his irises with my own and seeing the stars hidden beneath. The air left my lungs in a shallow rise and fall, heat pooling in my center as the darkness of his gaze seemed to strip me down and leave me exposed, “It was just…alcohol and my brain being overactive.” His black brow rose, hands moving lower down my body. I was keenly aware that we were mostly hidden in the corner of the room behind the table, the bar dark and most of the lights focused on the band and the dance floor. It was almost like we were wrapped in shadows and I wondered if Morpheus did something to hide us even more. “That is not a proper answer,” his voice was low and half a growl of admonishment, eyes tracing the length of my neck as I stayed fully pressed back against him, following the scoop of the fabric covering my neck and the fact I definitely hadn’t worn a bra with this dress. Dream’s lips touched my temple and he muttered, “What did that overactive mind of yours show you?” I gulped and felt his fingers on my thigh, slowly pulling the long fabric of my skirt up and up my legs, “I don’t want you to be mad.” He paused and pulled back a little to more fully see my face, “And why would I be angry with you?” My eyes instinctively flickered over to where Hob and Anissa were dancing, my friend cackling as the immortal swung her around and spun her on the dance floor. His movements were easy and fluid, practiced, while she flailed around trying to keep up but obviously having fun.

Morpheus followed my gaze and I could almost see him connect the dots as I whispered, “He’s a flirt and I had wondered if you and he…then I thought of you and me as well…” His voice was rough and deep, eyes locked on watching his friend and mine dancing as he commented darkly, “The three of us…” I swallowed and broke from looking, staring down at the table and watched the water slide down the outside of my glass. “I’m drunk and it’s dumb and it was a passing thought. It’s not anything. I’m apparently a horny drunk which is interesting,” I rambled and chuckled anxiously, my words all running together as I tried to move on from what I’d admitted and force my brain to make any sort of sense. Two shots and almost four drinks were not helping, “Like I said, my mind is overactive and should be ignored.” But he was still fixated, not looking at me, “You were afraid I would be angry.” It wasn’t a question, a flat statement as his hands stayed paused on my thighs. I wanted to groan and sink down under the table as I worried I’d ruined the peace everyone had managed to reach after the rough beginning. I shouldn’t have drank, didn’t usually and my tolerance was low and apparently made me run my mouth and do stupid things. Afterall, drinking is what had led me to destroy Thomas’ dream which then caught Morpheus’ attention. I was chewing my lip raw, nerves pushing through the alcohol as I wasn’t sure what the expression on his face was exactly, “You said you don’t share. And after last time…I thought you’d be angry at him or me or both…” Last time when Cameron had only flirted with me and Dream had terrified him enough that the man didn’t go near me and quit his job. When the mere idea of someone being interested had sent him into a jealous tantrum. Morpheus finally turned and looked down at me, straightening us both enough that he could fully see my face. One hand left my hip and went to cup my cheek, raising my face to meet his and gently moving a piece of hair behind my ear, “That was a different situation and I promised I would not be so quick to anger. But is this… scenario you imagined…something you wish for? Truly?” My heart was beating so loudly it drowned out the jazz music that was playing and all I could see was the blue of his eyes and feel the fast thrumming of nerves. I considered his words. I’d never really fantasized before, hadn’t considered my sex life in general before Morpheus came around. Sex hadn’t been something I craved, simply a way to please whatever partner I was with. Mind you, none of my previous partners were all that good at sex and there was a level of trauma attached to the act after my first abusive boyfriend but sex was decent enough and I got use to it. Now possibilities had opened up, I had a healthy and very active sex life, and I wasn’t sure, was almost scared to look beyond what was considered normal or vanilla. But the dreamlord was already more than I could have ever expected, more gorgeous and skilled than I thought possible. He was always attentive to my wants and boundaries. And Hob was handsome and attractive, physically and personality wise. What would it be like to be with both of them, to have both their attention on me and even each other? What kind of life did I have that the scenario was even a possibility? Two immortals with a mere plain mortal? But god did the image interest me, leave me pulsing with want and excitement. It was something I hadn’t ever considered but now…now maybe… Dream traced a thumb over my chewed lip and my breath hitched, eyes wide and unblinking as against his dark, curious gaze before I let out the subtlest of nods. It was small and almost imperceptible but I knew he’d caught it. He leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine, hand moving from my cheek to entwine with my long hair at the base of my neck as he asked softly, “Why him?” My voice was shaky, stuttering as I gripped the wrist of the hand in my hair, wanting to keep him close to me, “Because you trust him so I trust him. Because he cares for you.” And I’d do anything as long as Dream was involved. His skin was so hot against mine and I could feel the muscles in his arms, the humming of his power surrounding me and answering back in the small necklace and earrings hanging from me, “Perhaps… when you are of clear mind and sober …that is something we can…discuss further about making happen. When you are ready, of course.” Not a no. Most certainly interested. I nodded against him slowly, his breath mingling with mine at the proximity, unable to form words and process that not only was he not mad but potentially willing for that scenario. And as much as I wanted to say yes and let’s talk about it now and make it happen, I respected that he wanted me to sit on it a bit and not rush into something I may not be prepared for. The idea was exciting but the reality was harder to swallow. Pulling me in, he laid the barest kiss against my lips and I could feel the raw need he was holding back, the hunger he was keeping carefully tucked away. I sighed, simultaneously tight with my own lust and incredibly relieved that this hadn’t turned into a complete disaster. And that maybe I wasn’t the only one turned on by the idea. But before I could deepen the kiss he pulled back, leaving me to chase him eagerly, and laid a softer kiss to my hair. His arms were back around my waist, tucking me into him as our friends returned panting and out of breath with wide smiles. Neither of them seemed to guess that anything was off or even hinted that they knew what we were discussing, but I could feel Dream’s desire in the slight hardness against my back. He was done with being in public and wanted to go home to other things and honestly I couldn’t argue with that. I just wanted to be sure I wasn’t being rude even if it was my birthday and I could feel exactly how excited he was. Unfortunately for both of us, Anissa proceeded to pull me into a dance, claiming I had gotten time with both men and it was her turn. I could feel Dream’s annoyance in his scowl and the way he watched her drag me away from him, but I could only smile as she began to swing me around. We were both pretty sauced and neither of us knew how to really dance to the music that was playing, but I laughed as we basically swayed and spun each other. Nissa smiled and hugged me as we moved back and forth in some attempt at dancing, “Happy birthday, Dahl. Sorry it started off a little rough, but I’ll say your guy isn’t so bad. Has a dumb name, but not bad.” My guy. I smiled back, feeling strangely choked up at her approval, and laughed a bit, “Thank you for looking out for me and trying.” She laughed and sent me into another spin, “I want you to be happy, that’s all. You’re a good person, Dahlia. You deserve it.” I could only nod, hearing her words and not knowing quite what to say. So I said nothing and hugged her, both of us fake dancing through the rest of the song. For what it was, even with all the anxiety and bickering, it had been a good birthday. Morpheus had made the effort to spend the evening with me in the Waking world. A weight felt like it was lifted off my shoulder now that Anissa, the only person I was close with, had met him. Plus I had gained a friend with a similar experience through Hob. Not bad at all. Hob took care of the tab while we danced and luckily, everyone seemed to be in agreement that it was a good time to head out. Anissa downed the remainder of her drink, claiming she didn’t want good alcohol to go to waste, and Morpheus helped me into my coat as we walked out. I had been right and it was much colder now, the air stinging my nose a bit as it held a slight bite. The tipsy haze had cleared up a little bit, my words coming out a little stronger, but the alcohol was still very heavily in my system and warmed me however it could. “Are you sure you can get home on your own?” Hob asked my friend, who was ever so slightly swaying while standing straight. I met his eyes and shook my head, not knowing if she had walked or driven to the bar. Either way, I wasn’t sure she should be left to go off alone and as I went to open my mouth, the immortal shrugged, “I’ll make sure she gets to her place. Last thing we need is someone trying to make a move on you.” “I’m fine, it’s not even very far,” Anissa rolled her eyes but seemed to be tilting to the side as if we were still swinging and dancing. “Mmmhmm,” he hummed skeptically, “Either way, it’ll make everyone feel better.” “Just let him, Nissa, it’ll be better than arguing,” I shot before she could let out a retort. Huffing, she relented and he grinned while offering an arm to her, “Get back safe, you two! And happy birthday again, darling!” I smiled and waved, watching them walk off down the street and trusting that he would actually get her home in one piece. Sighing, I turned and found Morpheus staring at me, the stars more pronounced in his eyes, “What?” He only smiled softly and held out a hand, long fingers so pale in the darkness of the night, “Come.” Staring at him suspiciously, I took his hand and intertwined our fingers, him tugging me not down the street but around the corner to the dark opening of an alley. My suspicion grew as I looked around, brow furrowed. “Uh, are we about to have sex in the alley cause I have to say, it’s a little too cold for that,” I commented dryly, looking at the black abyss that encompassed the small space. If I didn’t know and trust him, I would assume I was in the beginning of a true crime podcast episode. He frowned and shook his head, “That is not an idea I wish to cross off your list, unfortunately.” We stopped at the opening, not that far in but far enough that we weren’t easily noticed even if you were walking past. His eyes seemed to reflect in the darkness like a cat and it was almost as if we were back in the Dreaming, the irises so dark they seemed black and the reflection sparkling like twin stars. Morpheus continued to hold my hand and pulled me closer to him, trying to keep me warm with his body heat, “Do you wish to go to the Dreaming?” My brain, alcohol-laden and tired, stuttered and tried to comprehend what he was asking, “Um, yes though I’m confused. I thought I’d already been going to the Dreaming? Didn’t really know there was a choice since I have to sleep unless you’re implying not sleeping at all, which I may be down for?” He shook his head, half a sigh and half a chuckle leaving him, “You misunderstand. When you sleep, you are simply visiting the Dreaming but your physical body stays here. You are there but also not. I am asking if you would like to go in your entirety. Physically, go to the Dreaming with me.” “I…didn’t know I could physically go there,” I mumbled. “Of course you can. The Dreaming is as whole and solid as the world you are standing in now,” Dream reached a hand out and dragged its knuckles along the edge of my chin, “The residents have a purpose but they live there the same as you live here. Living beings simply are able to visit areas in their sleep but unlike you, they never remember upon waking.” He wanted me to come to the Dreaming. No time limit, no wondering when my body would wake up and force me to leave. I could actually go there and be there with him. I’d always had a hard time wrapping my head around the concept of the Dreaming but the way he described it made a bit more sense. It was just another world that we were allowed to briefly visit. He was asking me to be there in all ways. “Yes,” I met his gaze in the low light, the words rushed and eager and excited, “Yeah, I want to go.” His smile, the one he showed so rarely, lit up and my heart sped up at the sight, “Good. I can take us there now.” “I don’t have to bring anything?” my words were a jumble, nerves surfacing now that I had accepted. He knew I took a few extra days off from work, if only so I could laze around at home, but I didn’t know if that was something he ever even considered because why would he? He didn’t have to pay bills. “You will have everything you need there and I will bring you back when you wish,” he stepped closer, bringing my head up to look at him. Only a couple inches more and I would be able to reach his mouth, pull it against mine finally and kiss him fully and deeply. I only nodded though, entranced by his gaze and what almost seemed like his own excitement there. His hand went to his waist and to the small pouch of sand he always kept on his belt. It had to be some form of magic that hid it. When I would be held to him, I never felt it on him even though it was hard to miss. Holding me close, he whispered while taking a handful of grains out, “I should warn you, Lucienne may have discovered what day it is and was planning on having the kitchen staff make you something.” While I wanted to groan at more birthday celebrations, connecting it to Matthew’s quick visit and hasty retreat, it was heartwarming that even those in the Dreaming wanted to try and help me celebrate a bit. But at the same time, “So we should probably go straight to your quarters first then?” And as the sand swirled around our feet and all around us, his devious smile sent a shiver down my spine with a delicious promise of what was to come.

lost signals & tunes — coriolanus snow

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, angst, mentions of violence, injustice in the districts, possessive!snow, trauma, kinda mean!snow, talks of a breakup, arguments, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: i’m back for round 3!!! i’m so happy that you all like this series so far as much as i do. here are the links to part 1 & 2, if you missed them. this one is sad and angsty, i’m sorry. the song y/n sings is by frank santra! anyways, i hope you enjoy this one! much love.

masterlist

Since your last real conversation with Coriolanus, he had been acting different. He was colder, and you didn’t know if you were simply going crazy, or if he just going out of his way to ignore you.

But regardless, you were hurt. When you tried to speak to him, he would say he had somewhere to be. And maybe he did, but you just wished he’d spend time with you.

You missed him, really.

Lucy Gray frowned as she watched you from across the room. You and the Covey were all getting ready backstage at the Hob where you were set to perform shortly. Even if you were cousins, you and Lucy Gray were brought up as sisters and knew the other probably better than you knew yourselves.

She watched you as you were deep in thought, and she knew something was troubling you. She walked over, and with a click of her tongue she gained your attention.

With a raise of her eyebrows you already knew what she was thinking. “Lucy Gray, please. Not right now,”

She raised her hands up in surrender, sitting down next to you on the couch. “I was just gonna ask what was wrong,”

“I’m sorry,” You sighed, rubbing your temple. “I’m stressed out,”

“Talk to me,” She softly smiled, her hand coming up to comfortably rub your shoulder.

“Coriolanus has just been acting weird, and I don’t know why. I think.. I think when we were at the lake I said something that he didn’t like, or something.” You vented. “Just ever since we got back, he’s been off. Or maybe I’m just delusional.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at yourself. “Christ, Gray, I’m loosin’ it.”

She giggled. “You got a bad case of the love blues, it sounds to me, Y/N.” She repeated the same thing your mothers used to say all the time when talking about past relationships.

A small smile blessed your features. “I think you may be on to somethin’.” You sighed, again. “I just wish he’d at least talk to me, y’know? Let me know whatever I’ve done, so I can fix it, or if he wants to break up just fuckin’ tell me. I hate when shit just lingers.”

“I know.” She shook her head. “Listen, if he doesn’t realize how damn good he’s got it, then he ain’t worth it. You know better. And I know you two got history and what not, but if he stressin’ you out so bad you can’t even enjoy a performance, I’d say ya need to talk to the boy.” She explained, shrugging. “Or leave his ass. You deserve better,”

You chuckled. “Only you, Lucy Gray, could manage to make me laugh while talking about my relationship problems.” You shook your head, playfully.

A smile came back to her face. “You know it, now, c’mon we got a show to play.” She stood up, holding her hand out for you to take.

She brought you over to the rest of the Covey, Issac immediately bringing you into a side hug.

“Aye, sis, you want me to kick that boy’s ass?” He asked, smiling goofy.

You laughed. “No, please.”

“Alright, alright.“ He shook his head. “Let’s go, folks!”

Once you all were out on stage, all of the struggles and worries wrestling around your mind faded, and a smile brightly displayed on your face as you sang along with your family. You didn’t even realize how fast it was going by because you were enjoying yourself.

Until you saw his smirk in that crowd.

You were scanning the crowd as normal, loving to see all of different people coming to together to enjoy music when you saw him. He was in the back of the room, alone, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirked at you.

His gaze almost made you feel uneasy, his sharp eyes boring into yours. Lucy Gray wrapped up one of her songs, turning on her heel and winking at you, her signal to let you know it was your turn on the mic.

You sighed before standing up, grabbing your guitar and walking up to the mic.

“Hey, twelve,” You smiled, looking at the crowd. “How y’all doin’ tonight, huh?” They all cheered in return, making your smile grow bigger. “That’s what I like to hear! Alright, here’s the song.”

Over and over, I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

You began, singing deeply and sharply into the mic, staring into Coriolanus’ eyes.

Once when you walked beside me,

That inconceivable, that unbelievable world we knew,

When we two were in love.

Your eyes burned into his as the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only you and him as you sang to him. He knew it was about him, most of your songs were.

And every bright neon sign turned into stars,

And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours.

Each road that we took turned into gold,

But the dream was too much for you to hold.

Your voice boomed across the pub, the couples holding each other and the singles downing their shots in misery. You touched all their hearts with the song, somehow. His eyebrows furrowed as he truly listened to the lyrics, seeing how you wrote about your love and pain, and he wondered if it was still about him.

I mean, he hadn’t hurt you, right? He didn’t think him ignoring you for a week or two would push you this far.

Now, over and over I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

Days when you used to love me.

Issac and Cece took over for the music break, as you turned to blink away the tears that threatened to spill.

And every bright neon sign turned into stars,

And the sun and the moon seemed to be ours.

Each road that we took, it turned into the gold,

But the dream was too much for you to hold.

The tears only got closer to dropping from your eyes as you kept singing, just trying to get through the song. You tried focusing on the beautiful music the Covey produced behind you and put your all into your singing.

Now, over and over I keep goin’ over the world we knew.

Days when you used to love me,

Over and over I keep goin’ over that world we knew.

You finished with one last strum of your guitar, and the melodies of Lucy Gray and Maudie Ivory next to you. The crowd erupted in cheers and claps.

“Thank you!” You smiled as the rest of your family joined you, bowing. After saying your goodbyes, you stalked off stage as fast as you could, ignoring the concerned gaze from Coriolanus.

“Your singing was beautiful, I love that song.” Lucy Gray said as she walked beside you. “But I do want to give that boy a stern talkin’ to for makin’ you feel that way.”

You grabbed her wrist. “No, Lucy. Let me talk to him.” She looked at you with raised brows, the pair of you exchanging words with your eyes. Eventually she nodded, stepping forward and letting you walk.

You walked through the corridor that led back out to the dance floor, your eyes looking for that familiar face. But it seemed to be that he found you before you could find him, the man already walking towards you.

You crossed your arms, turning on your heel to walk deeper into the corridor so no one would be around. You knew he’d follow, so you leaned against the wall, popping the gum in your mouth.

“There you are,” He called as he turned the corner, seeing you standing there. He walked over to stand in front of you. “Y/N, that song—”

“Cut the shit,” You cut him off. “What’s been goin’ on with you, Coriolanus?”

His eyebrows furrowed at your forwardness. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you avoidin’ me. You been actin’ weird since the lake, Coryo.” You sighed, pushing yourself off the wall to get eye to eye with the man before you. “If this is about what I said about runnin’ away..”

He rubbed his temple, staying silent.

“Coriolanus, do you expect me to enjoy life here? Watchin’ people get hung every other day, scared for my own damn life? My families lives?” You threw your arms out, scoffing. “Why would I want to stay?”

“Because of me!” He cut off your rant with a whisper yell. “I wanted you to want to stay, with me. Or.. come with me to the Capitol.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“I know. And I wish I could change that.” He stepped forward a bit. “Because I don’t want to be away from you, Y/N.”

Your eyes softened. “Coryo, I don’t want to be away from you either. Hell, I’ve been thinkin’ about you for weeks just because you didn’t talk to me,” You bitterly laughed at your own foolishness. “But, look, if this is gon’ cause a problem between us, then maybe we should just call it off here, ‘cause even if it’ll hurt like hell, if we don’t got trust in each other then we got dirt.” You shrugged, even though the words you spoke felt like a dagger to the heart.

“No.” He shook his head immediately, his hands reaching out to grip your hips, almost seeming to make sure you wouldn’t run. “I’m not letting you go, no. Definitely not over this.”

“Then what do you want from me?” You asked, your eyes flickering between his. “You iced me out for 2 weeks because of what I said, then when I give you a solution, you say no?”

“Because that solution is us not being together.” He said, firmly. “That is the last thing I want. This whole thing started because I’m afraid of being away from you, Y/N.” He finally admitted.

You sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me that? We could’ve worked this out together.”

His hands slid up your body to cradle your face. “I was afraid. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t mean to hurt you,”

You looked down. “You scared me, you asshole. I thought you didn’t want to be with me anymore.”

He frowned, tapping softly on your cheek to get your attention back onto him. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way, I always want to be with you. We will figure this out, I promise you that. I.. I’m just not good with talking about things with people, y’know…”

A soft smile spread over your face. “Yeah, I know. Just.. talk to me next time, okay? I hate when we don’t talk.” You said, walking into his arms.

He sighed happily at the contact, nuzzling his face his your hair to inhale your scent. “I will, my love.” He sighed, pulling back and licking his lips. “That song, though, it was beautiful. What is it called?”

You continued to smile. “You didn’t figure it out? It’s called ‘The World We Knew’ and, before you even ask, yes, it’s about you.”

His smiled slowly faded. “I made you feel that way?”

You swallowed, your smile gone as well. “Coryo.. these past two weeks, I thought it was over between us. When I wrote that, I was trying to come to terms with it.”

“Well, now you know that we’ll forever be in that world we apparently knew.” He joked, making you giggle.

He leaned forward to place a loving kiss on your lips, causing you to moan against his lips. He pulled back at the noise, looking at you with a smirk. “I have just the idea to make it up to you,”

You laughed when you saw that glint in his eye, kissing him again. “Show me what you got, big boy.” 

Moonlight Reading

The Sandman

if you dream, I hope it will be of me by acrisisofbeholding. Rated explicit, dreamling, 20k words. Summary: The year: 2022. Hob Gadling faces a lecture hall of students and feels the world change. In another realm, Dream of the Endless makes a deal to save his sibling. For one year, another will hold Dream's memories outside of himself. At the conclusion of this year, both Delirium and Dream's memories will be returned. Until then, Hob arrives home to find an unconscious Endless in his bed, who remembers nothing of their meetings over the years, or indeed, anything at all. Hob cannot tell Dream anything, because Dream has rarely revealed any part of himself to his human friend. All they have are 6 meetings and a raven to get them through. At the end of their year together, almost everything has changed. https://archiveofourown.org/works/42533283 My thoughts: This fic was precious. If you want to read about falling in love with people who create a safe environment for Dream to re-learn who he is at core, this is your fic. Hob is so patient and kind, opens Dream up to new experiences with simple happiness, etc. I wouldn’t call it a slow burn because there are hints of sweetness and romance from the beginning, but it is a gentle slope full of all the things I love, mainly trust-building and a kind of trauma recovery. This fic also features ‘surprisingly’ cuddly!Dream as well, so I’m dead; this fic killed me 😊 This fic has been added to my favorite Sandman fics reclist on neocities.

through the shatter of glass by acrisisofbeholding. Explicit, Dreamling, 7k words. Summary: In 1915, Dream of the Endless misses his next appointment with Hob Gadling. Jessamy does not come with an explanation, as she might have at other times, but Hob does not worry just yet. There is a war on, Dream is a busy creature and a mercurial one beside. Sometimes he wants Hob every day for a year, and sometimes he disappears for months on end. It is 1919 by the time Hob grows concerned. Fortunately, their raven comes for help before it's too late. https://archiveofourown.org/works/43412199 My thoughts: One of my favorite parts of ‘Hob saves Dream from Roderick Burgess fishbowl in the basement’ fics is right at the moment Dream’s out and facing Hob, and this fic’s rendition was soooo *chef’s kiss.* Also this fic convinced me to read more fics where dreamling’s established before Dream was captured by Burgess. I don’t know why I had that mental block to begin with, but it’s gone now, yay! This fic has been added to my favorite Sandman fics reclist on neocities.

Supernatural

Beware Of The by KKBELVIS. Teen and up, Gen, 25k. Summary: Beware of the what? The Dog? The Cat? Bigfoot? A dragon? Whatever the danger is…Sammy's gotten himself into it and Dean is in full-on big brother mode https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8811600 My thoughts: the antagonist in this story was a sympathetic monster, Sam's favorite, so the Sam whump was not just excellent, it was angsty too. Dean to the rescue is always so satisfying, the angry worrying, the quippy bravado, his possessive+protective side coming out full tilt and then the soft moments. I am very happy with this fic! This fic was added to my gen casefics reclist.

Our Flag Means Death

Red Sky by Bazzle. Mature, Gentlebeard, 10k words. Summary: “I know you have no reason to trust me,” Ed says, eyes sad. “Give it a rest, Stede. I tried to kill your friends. You want to get into bed with that? I knew you were a fucking lunatic, but that’s just suicidal, mate. It’s fucking over.” “But I am going to do everything in my power to get you and your crew through this.” When Stede finally returns to the Revenge, Ed won’t hear his apologies. It takes a deadly storm to bring down his walls and bring them back together. https://archiveofourown.org/works/40470261 My thoughts: This fic was SOOO good. I love fics that really walk the highwire between extremely badass and vulnerable. The more plausibly badass they are, the more I melt into a puddle when the time comes for them to show how traumatized or emotionally damaged they are. This was just so good with that. This fic’s been added to my favorite OFMD fics reclist

A Married Monster

A Married Monster by sweetNsimple “That is a sight,” breathed the Corinthian. He spoke with the exact awe and reverence of someone having their greatest dream come true before their eyes. Ironically. He approached the binding circle and the small, curled figure within. He dropped to his knees next to the symbols and reached over the writing, not yet ready to smudge it, and he touched blood-dripping fingers to his husband's cheek. ~:~ In 1916, Dream goes to the Waking to retrieve Gault. In the process, he is imprisoned by the Magus - but not for long. In 1989, the Corinthian confronts Hob Gadling concerning his vivid wet dreams featuring his beautiful Stranger. Gadling has a rather awful time of it. Words: 12384, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Sandman (Comics), The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: The Corinthian (Sandman), Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, Roderick Burgess, Hob Gadling Relationships: The Corinthian/Dream of the Endless, The Corinthian/Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless & Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus & Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling/Unrequited Love, One-Sided Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, One-Sided Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, The Corinthian Saves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus from Roderick Burgess, Married Life, Protective The Corinthian, Possessive The Corinthian, Implied/Referenced Torture, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Sex, Implied/Referenced Eye Fucking, Eye Sex, Jealousy, Power Play, Hob Gadling Needs A Hug, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Dream Sex, The Corinthian and Dream of the Endless Are Married, Oral Sex

Mahavir Groups: 4 Best Properties In Thane

Mahavir Bliss

Mahavir Bliss is located in Balkum, Thane, which is a rapidly developing area with excellent connectivity to major parts of Mumbai. The project is situated just 3 km away from the Eastern Express Highway, making it easy to commute to various parts of the city Thanerailway station is just 7 km away, and the upcoming metro station is also in close proximity. The project is surrounded by lush greenery and serene surroundings, providing a peaceful and tranquil living experience.

Amenities

Mahavir Bliss Thane offers an array of modern amenities that make living comfortable and enjoyable. The project has a fully equipped gymnasium, a swimming pool, and a clubhouse for recreational activities. The landscaped gardens, jogging track, and children's play area provide a perfect blend of modern living and nature. The project also has 24/7 security, power backup, and ample parking space, ensuring a safe and convenient living experience.

Mahavir Spring Daffodil

Mahavir Spring Daffodil is an upcoming residential real estate properties in thane that promises to offer a luxurious and comfortable living experience to its residents. The project is being developed by Mahavir Group, a renowned real estate developer that has a successful track record of delivering high-quality residential and commercial properties.

Mahavir Spring Daffodil is located in the prime locality of Ghodbunder Road in Thane, Maharashtra. The project is spread across a vast expanse of land and is designed to offer spacious 1 BHK, 2 BHK Flat in Thane, and 3 BHK apartments. The apartments are designed to perfection and come equipped with high-end fittings and fixtures, ensuring a luxurious living experience.

Mahavir Square

Mahavir Square by Squarefeet Group is a newly launched project in the Thane, offering spacious apartments in a mid-range budget. This affordable luxury project brings you apartments in Thane West, which are scheduled for possession in Jun, 2027. Mahavir Square Thane is a RERA-registered project with registration number P51700024701. Mahavir Square Thane West has 2 towers, with 24 floors each and 91 units to offer. This project is spread over an area of 1.36 acres. With all the basic amenities available, Mahavir Square offers comfort and a lifestyle at a reasonable price

Special 26 Mahavir Square

Mahavir Square is a project by the well-known developer, Unique Shanti Developers. The complex is spread over 4 acres and features 4 towers, each with 26 floors. The project offers a total of 416 units, including 2BHK and 3BHK apartments. The 2BHK flats in Mahavir Square are available in two variants – compact and regular. The compact 2BHK flats in Thane have a carpet area of 561 sq. ft., while the regular 2BHK flats have a carpet area of 636 sq. ft.

The 2BHK flats in Mahavir Square are designed to offer maximum comfort and convenience to the residents. The apartments are well-ventilated and receive ample natural light. The living and dining areas are spacious and can accommodate large furniture pieces. The bedrooms are designed to provide a relaxing and comfortable environment. The modular kitchen is equipped with modern amenities and features a granite platform, stainless steel sink, and a hob and chimney.

For more information check our site:  https://www.propmart.co/city/properties-in-thane/

The Great Tracy Cook Off

I’ve seen a number of posts floating around about the Tracys doing their own version of a cooking show (no idea how old these posts are). Coincidentally, my own mega fic is currently exploring this very scenario.

P.S. Mega fic is now sentient and actively evading capture. This is chapter 46 of 55, though it can stand on its own fairly well. The only piece of contextual information required is the pup named Celery. She’s an ex-stray who Gordon rescues in chapter 27. She makes regular appearances.

-x-

Gordon wrung his hands nervously as the holo-table beeped, signifying an outgoing call.

He was confident that his plan was a good one. He had the backing of Scott, Grandma and Celery.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Gordon!” a well-spoken voice danced around the room, closely followed by Lady Penelope’s holographic form flickering to life, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The aquanaut smiled with confidence he didn’t have, “Hey, Lady P! Sorry for ringing so late, but I have a proposal for you. And Parker and Sherbert, of course.”

Lady Penelope’s eyes widened in curiosity, “A proposal you say? Please, do elaborate. I’m all ears.”

The den was silent for a minute as Gordon’s mind suddenly went blank. He vaguely remembered John once complaining about something similar; a completely rational train of thought disappearing with zero warning, leaving behind nothing but the sound of chirping crickets.

Alan had taken the liberty of dubbing the aforementioned phenomenon a ‘brain fart’. John hadn’t been impressed.

Stood before the woman he harboured a not-so-secret crush on, Gordon felt his own brain fall victim to a fart of epic proportions. Had it occurred outside the confines of his head, everything on the island would have perished instantly (including Virgil’s potted plants).

Celery sneezing jolted the aquanaut back to the matter at hand.

“Uh, I was wondering if you, Parker and Sherbert would like to come over for dinner tomorrow evening. Are you busy?” Gordon asked, dragging one of his sweaty palms along Celery’s head.

“Tomorrow evening, you say?” Penelope repeated, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she twisted to look at something over her shoulder, “Parker? When is the Duke of Norfolk’s garden party? Next Tuesday? Oh, wonderful. Yes Gordon, the diary is empty for tomorrow evening. What time shall we aim to arrive? And do you need us to bring anything? A bottle of wine, perhaps?”

Gordon cringed as drunken memories from the previous Christmas and Scott’s birthday jostled for dominance inside his head, “Uh, no thanks, that’s fine. Just bring yourselves. As for time, does seven o’clock suit?”

“F.A.B,” Penelope chirped, “In that case, we’ll see you tomorrow!”

Gordon was about to reply, but was interrupted by the raspy voice of his grandmother echoing around the den.

“Gordon? Is this pile of underpants next to the dryer yours? I’m about to put a wash on and can’t remember which detergent you like best!” the Tracy matriarch bellowed.

Penelope quirked a playful brow as Gordon flushed scarlet. Of all the times his grandmother could have chosen to take an interest in his underwear…

“I’m kind of busy, Grandma!” Gordon barked, his tone a stark contrast to the pleasant smile he had plastered across his face.

“I remember you mentioned something about a rash?” Sally bulldozed on, oblivious to the distress she was causing her fourth grandson, “I think you might be sensitive to the detergent we’ve all been using. I’m going to try washing your underpants in the same stuff I use for John’s allergies. That should hopefully stop any more nasty rashes from interfering with your missions.”

Gordon felt part of his soul leave his body as Penelope let out an involuntary snort of laughter.

“I think we need to take you for another eye test, Grandma!” Gordon retaliated, his desperation evident, “You must be confusing my stuff with Alans. I never mentioned anything about a rash!”

“Are you sure?” Sally screeched, her voice like nails on a chalkboard, “I remember you complaining the last time you took your wetsuit off. And this pile of undies is definitely yours. I can see your favourite pair of pineapple boxers on top!”

“Nope, your glasses must be broken!” Gordon didn’t think he’d ever felt more embarrassed in his life, “Go and fetch your contacts and tell Alan to do his own laundry! Crazy old woman!”

The silence that followed was heavy, and it took all of the aquanaut’s willpower to suppress the groan of humiliation that suddenly hovered at the back of his throat. In the space of just sixty seconds he’d managed to tarnish his image in front of two of the most important women in his life.

Penelope would never take him seriously again, and Grandma would no doubt flay him alive for calling her ‘crazy’ as soon as she got her hands on him.

“Gotta go Lady P, see you tomorrow,” Gordon gabbled, terminating the comm link before he could faint from embarrassment.

Okay, that was one down (three if he included Parker and Sherbert). Now he just had to convince Kayo…

…which he’d worry about after apologising to his grandmother and pleading with her to follow through with her sensitive detergent suggestion.

Mothers (or grandmothers) always knew best.

-x-

Twenty hours later, Gordon was very much regretting his decision to give the whole cooking malarkey ‘a stab’.

Oh, something was going to get stabbed alright.

Right now, it was most certainly what little remained of his dignity.

“Put the chicken on the stove,” Gordon quoted from the recipe sheet Scott had given him, “Okay, sounds simple enough.”

Stepping over Celery’s sleeping form, the aquanaut fished a packet of chicken out of the fridge before placing it on one of the hob rings, packaging and all, “There, the chicken is on the stove. Now how do I turn this stupid thing on…”

The Tracy residence was equipped with a state of the art kitchen that boasted just about every appliance known to man. The stove in particular was a feat of engineering brilliance; motion sensitive temperature controls, voice recognition and an automated shut off feature to name a few. The latter came in particularly handy when an emergency call came through in the middle of breakfast/lunch/dinner.

Long gone were the days of Scott having to abort Thunderbird One’s launch sequence because he’d ‘left the oven on’.

Unfortunately, it was all wasted on Gordon.

“Let’s crank this thing right up,” the aquanaut muttered, turning the heat up to maximum as he ferreted in one of the cupboards for a saucepan. After locating one that looked suitably sized and dumping the chicken into it, he turned his attention back to Scott’s ingredient list, “Okay, now where does Grandma keep the pasta…”

Celery raised her head in curiosity as her master set about opening and closing every single cupboard the kitchen had to offer.

“We must be out,” Gordon mused, biting his lip in worry, “Never mind, I’ll use noodles instead.”

Oblivious to the rapidly charring chicken atop the stove, the aquanaut trotted off towards the larder to retrieve a packet of instant noodles, pausing en route to grab a Celery Crunch Bar, “Okay, so that’s the chicken and the pasta taken care of. What else do I need…hmm, cream and parmesan. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

Both items were acquired without difficulty, although it was with a smidgen of regret that Gordon realised he’d have to limit his sauce intake. Scott had been kind and made his portion of alfredo pasta with dairy free cream the night before, and parmesan was naturally low in lactose apparently. Gordon had no idea if there was even any dairy free cream left, but at the rate the chicken was burning, he knew he wouldn’t have time to find out.

The stove was hastily turned down, its contents smoking like the Australian wildfires Scott and Virgil worked every year to help extinguish. Thankfully, the chicken was saved just short of going nuclear, although the smoke detector didn’t seem to agree.

“Deactivate!” Gordon yelled, huffing in irritation as silence descended over the house once more, “Okay, nearly there. What do the instructions say to do next...”

The sauce recipe that Scott had given him was blessedly simple to follow, however possessed one fatal flaw, much to the aquanaut’s horror.

He hadn’t written down ingredient quantities.

Gordon was so past caring. Between the burnt chicken, noodle substitution and lack of dairy free cream, his hopes of redeeming himself were sinking through the floor. He was just amazed he hadn’t set anything on fire.

“What do you think, girl?” Gordon asked, peering down at Celery who was banging her tail against the fridge door in excitement, “Should we use the whole carton of cream, or just half?”

Woof.

“You’re right,” Gordon announced, dumping the whole carton over the top of the cremated chicken before reaching for the parmesan, “More is always better. I think I’ll add the cheese gradually though; don’t want it to be too salty.”

Woof, woof.

“Of course!” the aquanaut slapped a palm to his forehead and dove for the pepper mill, “Gotta have seasoning”

Woof, woof, woof.

-x-

John had never been fond of surprises.

Mainly because he associated them with heart attacks.

Scott putting a stump-toed gecko in his bed, Virgil accidentally lighting a firework in his room and Alan’s birth had all fallen under the ‘surprise’ umbrella.

None of them had been welcome.

“Are you serious?” John shook his head so fast his brain almost rattled out of place, “Why on earth does Gordon want to put himself through all the stress of playing hostess for the evening?”

Scott sighed as he handed the redhead a mug of tea, “No idea. Said he wants a chance to prove that he can take things seriously. I think it’s probably best to let him get it out of his system. Plus, he’s volunteered to try cooking. He’s a grown man, it’s about time he learnt how to make something other than toast and pancakes.”

John hissed as memories of Gordon’s last unsupervised kitchen stint flashed through his head, “I’m not touching whatever he ends up making. He’ll probably end up using ingredients I’m allergic to anyway.”

“Why don’t you write a list of all your allergies and pin it to the fridge?” Scott suggested, “It’ll certainly take a lot of the guesswork out of cooking for me.”

John grunted in approval, “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

Scott beamed and raised his mug, “The only kind I have.”

Forty minutes later…

“Seriously?” Scott gaped as his eyes scanned the two pieces of A4 paper John had stuck to the fridge, “You’re allergic to glitter? And shoe polish?”

John gave a sniff of defiance, “Kindly tell Gordon to not use either in his cooking.”

Scott cringed, “Might be too late.”

-x-

Gordon had always taken pride in his appearance.

Sure, he wasn’t as much of a peacock as Scott or Virgil and had been known to go weeks between sock changes, but he was still aware of his Tracy genes.

“What do you think?” the aquanaut asked as he paraded down the staircase, his usually coiffed hair slicked back against his head.

From the safety of the den, Alan snorted, “You look like a roll-on deodorant.”

Gordon gave a disgruntled harrumph before swanning off to check on the status of his culinary masterpiece.

“Chef’s privilege,” the aquanaut snickered, dipping a spoon into the alfredo sauce and licking it clean, “Not bad…could probably do with a bit more salt though.”

In went the salt.

“Better…but it’s still lacking depth.”

In went the parmesan.

“Oh yes, now that’s good. A little more black pepper and we’ll be good to serve.”

In went the black pepper.

“Hmm, I wonder if some of my canned cheese will make it a bit thicker…”

In went the canned cheese.

“Maybe just a dash more salt…”

In went the salt.

“Oh, that’s incredible! One more quick taste won’t hurt…”

In went the spoon.

“Man, that’s even better than the stuff Scott makes!”

In went the spoon again.

And again.

And again…

The Return of Mr & Mrs Sinclaire – Part III A Rose By Any Other Name

A Choices Desire & Decorum based AU fanfic All rights to characters and settings from the Desire & Decorum fiction belong to Pixelberry Studios Featuring: Rose Sinclair, Luke Harper, Caiden Lykel (oc), Marina Burke (oc) Rating: PG-13   Warning: Captivity, Language Word count: Long post around 3446 This takes place after Part II - The Fire Tags: @darley1101 @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @speedyoperarascalparty @hellospunkiebrewster @tornbetween2loves @gardeningourmet @melodyofgraves @thequeenofcronuts @symonde @ritachacha @hellooliviaolivia @paisleylovergirl @allaboutchoices @regencylady1810​   Rose was bounced hard against the floor of the wagon as the team strained for speed. The hay wagon lacked the suspension designed to add comfort for carriages. Trussed in the feed sack with her arms bound she couldn’t brace herself. Time was measured in bruises. But she could feel the fatigue of the horses even as she heard one of the men yell and the whip crack.  “Garrik, ease up mon. T’weren’t no good if yas kill tha horses.”  “Shut it Hob. I ain’t dyin on this bloody plain over no doxy. Tha horses will make it to tha farm and we can hand er over and get our quid and be done.”

   She heard the edge of nervous anger in the second voice even as the whip cracked again. Rose tested her bonds and realized her luck as the rope was bound around and around her but her wrists and feet weren’t bound. She wasn’t gagged. And the bonds were all inside the sack where she could get at them. The problem was even if she could get free and manage to get out of the cart in the daylight there was no practical cover to hide in. And if she tried to get away and they caught her she knew they would secure her better.  The more the wagon slowed the more the men argued until finally Hob bellowed, “I’ll piss on you if you don’t stop, mon. I need to piss and there’s water here. You got ta let them rest and drink for a bit or we’re all gonna be walkin’. We need ta check her ladyship and gag her like you said. They was specific ‘bout her bein’ in good state. She ain’t made no sound she could be daid.”  “Fuck she ain’t daid. Don’t say that. Bloody fuck.”  They stopped.  Rose felt the wagon shift as the men got down. She did her best to relax as much as possible knowing it wouldn’t serve to struggle. She heard some rustling but couldn’t discern what was happening.  “She ain’t movin’” The man she thought was Hob sounded close. Abruptly her ankles were grabbed and she was drug to the end of the bed of the wagon. Somehow she managed not to scream fearing they would let her drop to the ground.  “She ain’t daid just fainted is all.”  She was pulled and nudged. “Come on girlie, wake up.”  She remained completely limp. “She ain’t movin’, Garrik.”  “Fuck. Come on girlie it’s time ta wake up.” He shook her again. “Fuck.” “Put on your scarf and get me some fuckin’ water, Hob. I’m gonna take er head sack off.”  “What about, ‘I gotta piss’ did you not ken? You get your own water. I told you not to go so hard. Now you broke the horses an the doxy. I knowed we was shite outta luck when you took this job haulin’ er ladyship cross tha country cause she ran away from tha high nob. Ladyships is delicate like flowers and yas broke er.”  “I’m gonna break you, ya piss fer brains.” Grunts and curses and noises of scuffling were coming from the ground close to the wagon. For a moment she considered if they really thought she was dead they might just leave her. Then she almost panicked when she considered they might try to bury her. She settled on playing senseless and incapacitated. If she could convince them they would be less likely to restrain her as well. So when the sounds of the fight changed from angry shouting to more petulant sniping and grousing she moaned softly.   “Ya bastard, ya broke me nose.” She moaned a little louder.   “Bet ya wish now ya’d got me wat..”       “Hush!” She moaned again, softer.   “I tol ya I ain’t killed er! Now get me some water for er! And put yer cloth oer yer face.” A moment later she was being shifted in the wagon remarkably gently. And the voice she had decided was Garrik was again trying to persuade her to wake up. “Come on yer ladyship just wake up a wee bit.” She thought he was untying the top of the sack she was in as he coaxed her.  “We got a commission from es highship yer husband tha Duke ta get ya back ta em.” She stayed limp but moaned in reality as he shifted her and hurt one of her many bruises. The sack over her head was removed and she concentrated on staying relaxed and resisting the nearly overwhelming desire to open her eyes. She could tell it was light out by the deep red she saw through her eyelids. He was adjusting her again then cold water was dribbled on her face. She gasped and moaned and fluttered her eyes open a moment before she rolled them up in her head closing them again and going limp.  “Fuck! Somethens wrong wit er.” He started to shake her again but almost immediately stopped when Hob yelled at him.  “Garrik, for fucks sake stop mon! She’s sore hurt cana ye ken! Prolly smashed her brains. Ain’t gonna serve ta shake her none. Leave er ta me and go tend tha horses so’s we can get ta tha farm.”  Her plan seemed to be working well as Hob tended her undoing the rest of her bonds and then patting at her face with a soaked handkerchief that made her twist away from the smell of stale sweat which only encouraged him to renew his efforts to rouse her.  “Come on Ladyship, let me know ya’s gonna be foine.”  She fluttered her eyes open again and blinked doing her best to look confused. “I.. I… “ She frowned as though trying to focus. He was dressed in workers trousers and a dirty green sack cloth shirt. A scarf covered the bottom half of his face and his left eye was swelling shut. A cut over his brow continued to seep.  She blinked and whispered softly “You’re hurt… Did, did you save me?”                                 -----------------------------------------  Marina smiled as she exited the Turks Head Tavern and saw The Captain was waiting with four horses, two of them saddled. She adjusted the pack she had put together over her shoulder and fished a couple of carrots out of her pocket breaking them into four pieces and giving each horse a piece before she walked around them trailing her hand gently over them. She checked their legs and hooves making certain of their soundness before she adjusted her tweed cap and glanced at Caiden.  “Good horses, Captain. Are they yours?”  “Aye. They’re Arabians. I first encountered Arabians on a trading expedition years ago. They’ve got the best endurance of any horse I’ve ever seen. As a boy I loved horses.” He frowned. “Then I joined the navy and had to ship them.” He trailed off and shook himself nodding at the mare that Marina was inspecting. “That’s Sheba. The one next to her is Jezebel. She bites so have a care. I’m sitting on Samson. And Zibiah is my lead.”  Curiously she turned a steady assessing gaze on him.  The Captain was not an especially large man though he had the aura of command that pulled attention and filled spaces. He possessed an elegance in his bone structure that spoke more of French or Spanish heritage than Germanic. His eyes had always fascinated her. They shifted from a dark steel gray to a blue so dark they looked black. For just a moment she allowed that he was a handsome man. The recognition bothered her. Her awareness of him bothered her. Her experience with men as a woman was not a happy tale.  “Am I sound?” His deep voice shook her from her contemplation and she dropped her eyes and adjusted her cap to hide the heat in her cheeks before taking a deep breath and meeting his dark gaze.  “Philosophers of the ages may debate that. It’s beyond my ken for certain.” She secured her pack behind the saddle and grabbed Jezebel’s lead before carefully fitting her foot to the stirrup and springing herself into the saddle. She caught his grin before he turned and led them off.  They rode silently north along the carriage road and Caiden set a steady mile eating pace. Having lost the morning they were pushing the fresh horses just a bit.          

  Marina found herself enjoying the opportunity to study The Captain even as they rode. Perhaps because they were leading horses and the speed they were travelling they travelled single file. Keeping to the road as much as possible for safety and speed. Still she noted how he focused on the horses and regularly would drop back to check on her.   Hours later Caiden departed the road and headed for the river Wharfe. The river had been getting closer and closer to the road for the last hour or so and now was a shimmering silver grey band winding its way beside the road.  Eventually he pulled up under a large sycamore tree by the bank. He dismounted and allowed his horses to drink while he went to her, “May I assist you?” He lifted his arms in offer.  She hesitated, lifting a brow and looking down at him. It was a strange moment for her, the first moment the Captain was treating her in a manner that proved he recognized her as a woman. She noted the afternoon sun had turned his eyes silver grey like the river and it momentarily transfixed her. At last she nodded and swung her leg over the saddle to face him. He gave her a gentle smile as he grasped her waist and lowered her carefully to the ground. Holding her a moment to be certain she was steady before he stepped back and went to pull the saddle from Samson.  “We’ll change horses here.” He spoke to her as he saw to Samson rubbing him down with sweet grass and checking his hooves. “I had fancied making Skipton when we set out but I think not now.” He paused looking at the light and back over at Marina who was pulling the saddle from Sheba. “If you allow I can saddle Jezebel for you.” His voice was soft with the offer his face hidden from her as he gave Samson a fond pat before taking his blanket and saddle to Zibiah and checking her before saddling her.  “It’s a kind offer and I thank you, but I can manage.” Marina frowned realizing that she was becoming increasingly discomfited by the Captain’s gentlemanly behavior toward her. “I’m not helpless.”    Caiden snorted with laughter and Zibiah shied a bit til he placed a calming hand on her neck speaking gently. He looked over at Marina, “Forgive me. But you are the least ‘helpless’ person I think I’ve ever encountered.” He was shaking his head. “I would not have engaged you on this had I thought you were at all helpless. That you are not helpless does not mean that you are not worthy of every consideration.” Just then Jezebel decided to try to bite Marina as she was preparing to saddle her. Marina slid her hand up on the reins to just beneath Jezebel’s mouth holding the horses head down and pushing her backwards as she spoke firmly “Ty budesh' podchinyat'sya! No! You will obey me!”  Caiden’s mouth fell open as the diminutive woman backed the horse up. He watched as she walked forward forcing the horse back with sheer strength of will and determination. Finally she stopped and stared at Jezebel for a moment sliding her hold on the reins back to a more natural lead position. Her voice was soft but firm as she addressed the mare. “Are we in accord? Good. Now come.” She led her back to the tree and the blanket and saddle.  Caiden chuckled and shook his head. “Jezebel, I could have told you not to try such foolishness with her Ladyship.”  Marina’s eyes went wide. “I’m not a Ladyship!.”  “Oh, but you most definitely are. And I am your Captain.” The words fell from his mouth without thought as some admission of his soul’s desire even as his personal measure of proper decorum was cringing at the most unsuitable retort.

He strode over to her picking up the saddle and settling it on Jezebel’s back before he reached beneath the horse to grab the cinch and fasten it. His mind was trying to formulate an apology but he wasn’t sorry.

 Her black eyes were lancing him, one arm braced on her hip in agitation. “I am NOT some Ladyship to be owned by anyone, Captain. Others have tried and failed before. I may have foolishly agreed to help you; and I hold to my word. I am your employee. But mark this well when your friend is safe we are done. Do you understand me?”

 His eyes went wide and locked with hers studying her carefully. Her reaction was far more extreme than he could anticipate. Finally his voice as gentle as he could manage, “Miss Burke please forgive me. Truly I intended no offense. I fear this endeavor will necessitate some levels of intimacy between us that may prove awkward for both of us. We actually know little of one another.  Be assured that I respect you in every way.”

 She turned without a word and riffled through her pack pulling a couple of carrots and a cloth wrapped piece of cheese. She wordlessly handed him a carrot and then unwrapped the cheese and cut a chunk of it off handing it to him before cutting a piece for herself. She wiped her blade on the cloth before rewrapping the cheese and stowing it again.

 Caiden fished a dried summer sausage out of his own pack and sliced chunks off for each of them. Then pulled a bottle of wine out of his pack and deftly pulled the cork with his teeth before offering her the bottle first.

 Marina took a deep swig of the crisp summer wine before handing the bottle back to the Captain. They stood as they ate their travelling repast and walked each horse to the river allowing them to drink. At last as they were tightening their girths and checking their packs were secured on their lead horses she addressed him. “So you should tell me of your friend and this Lady I’m to impersonate.”

 He looked at her a moment noting that she had not accepted his apology nor uttered a word of forgiveness. And he was still trying to fathom how his banter had so seriously offended her. He wanted to press it but thought better of it and decided to answer her question.

 “Ah. Well, Earnest Sinclaire I’ve known since we were both boys. We made our maiden ship together. It was one of his father’s ships and I came aboard as cabin boy and cook’s mate. We were bound for China. Being of an age and our first time at sea we found soon enough that we got on well. We both planned to get our experience and then serve commissions in the Royal navy and fight Bonney.” He frowned looking pensive for a moment. “It sounded so grand when we would talk about the future to pass our watch hours. Then James, Earnest’s elder brother and the heir died and his father fell gravely ill. He went home. I went to the Navy commissioned as a lieutenant.” He shook his head pulling himself from the past and looked over at her.

 If he hadn’t seen her when she rescued him from drowning he would never have guessed that the trouser and coarse linen shirt clad diminutive figure was aught but a boy. She was fascinating to him. Even dressed as she was, sweaty after riding steadily for the last four hours there was an energy about her and a quality that spoke of nobility. He frowned at himself so addled by this woman. As he forcibly brought his thoughts back to her question.

 He’d never actually met Rose Sinclaire but Earnest had given him fair description. Miss Burke was smaller he suspected. Earnest was fairly tall and commented on how his Rose fit perfectly in his arms as they danced. Caiden met her dark gaze as she studied him.

 He smiled and shrugged. “To be truthful I’ve never met Rose Sinclaire. I have her description from Earnest’s letters.” He grinned, “Hair like the sunset spun into fiery waves… Skin fair as alabaster, angel’s kisses dusting her perfect nose…”

 Marina snorted shaking her head and laughing. “Your friend is drunk as a sailor just paid with a week before shipping out again on this Rose of his.”

 Caiden chuckled feeling his heart lift at the pure joy of her laugh. He was having his own moment caught again in his own fascination with one Marina Burke.

 She continued, “So does she have an accent? You said they are new married now? I know we are in haste to Gretna Green. Then we assume their names and leisurely journey back to where? Hoping as a fisherman teases for fish to lure those who would collect this bounty out to attack us?” She lifted her brow.

 Caiden was contemplating the perfection of her tiny rosebud mouth. He finally managed to process what she had asked him and nodded. “That’s the plan so far.” His voice was warm and soft as he met the rich darkness of her gaze.

 She cocked her head slightly puzzled by the delay in his response and the strange note in his tone. “And you think we can manage this impersonation?”

 “Aye.” He was certain in that moment he could convince any observer that he was besotted with this woman. He was leaning toward her and caught himself. He cleared his throat and noticed the length of the shadows. “We need to go, Marina.”

 She nodded and took a small hop setting her left foot flawlessly into the stirrup and vaulting into the saddle.

 He took an extra minute to check the cinch on his saddle girth before mounting. “Let’s make for Addingham while we have the light.”

 “As you lead, Captain.” And they were off again.

This leg they did not push their mounts and it was well after the sun had slipped below the horizon that they made their way into the village of Addingham and found stable at The Fleece Inn.

Caiden went first to secure a room at the inn and was pleased to find they had one to let with stabling for their four horses. He paid for the room and extra rations for the horses then went out to join Marina and lead the horses around to the stable. As they were tending them he kept watching her as she fed them and gently cared for them.

 “You have a hand with horses, Marina.” His voice was whisper soft as he looked over the stall wall at her brushing Jezebel.

He frowned. “It would be good if I had a name to call you besides your own. Introducing you as my stable lad Marina won’t do.”

 “You shouldn’t introduce me.” She lifted her brow at him as she looked over Jezebel’s back. “If you introduce me I’ll have to remember to answer to it. Just call me Boy for this journey.”

 It made perfect sense and Caiden hated it. She deserved so much more than this hell paced ride to swap places and put herself in mortal danger. But he knew better than to argue with her so he nodded and went back to brushing Zibiah.

 When he was finished Caiden went around to the stall where she was putting up the tack. “There’s lamb stew in the common room.” He waited for her and she looked up at him and smirked.

“I don’t think you escorting me in to dinner is going to be good for our cover, Captain.”

He fidgeted suppressing his inclination to offer her his arm. Then he met her dark eyes, his voice soft and sincere, “Marina… I am sorry to put you through this. I want you know… I appreciate this.. I appreciate you…” His voice dropped to a whisper, “so much.”

She turned from him ducking her head to put her cap between her flushed cheeks and the warmth of his gaze.

“Apology accepted Captain.” She nodded toward the opening of the stable. “Lead and I shall follow you.”

------------------To be continued -----------------------