#just imagine hob waiting for dream after work | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wordsinhaled · 1 year

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so after that devastating ask neil answered about morpheus and calliope’s wedding i was suddenly beset by a MIGHTY need for a dreamling fix-it so... this is that. part headcanon post, part fic, entirely more than i was planning on it being. it got just a bit out of hand and is possibly a bit too sappy but i'm not sorry!!!

Hob introduces Morpheus to his longtime friends and colleagues after they’ve been together for a year. Morpheus carries the suspicion that Hob only agrees to wait this long for love of him.

He’s so excited about it, because he loves Dream, and it brings him the utmost happiness to imagine his friends, his loved ones, the people he works with, his students, getting to meet Dream—who hung the moon, as far as Hob’s concerned.

Dream is... less than enthusiastic about it. He hedges about going out for drinks with Hob’s friends, and he’s cagey about agreeing to be Hob’s plus one to the first department mixer Hob’s thrilled to invite him to. He still goes to these things, because Hob is his beloved and he sees how it lights Hob up to have him by his side at them. He’s the picture of gentility each time; shows up looking incredible, asks all the right questions, says all the right things, makes the small talk. He even personally ensures all of these people have pleasant dreams for a week following, for good measure.

But afterwards, he’s always a mess. Tense, withdrawing into himself.

After the third time this happens, Hob cottons on and asks him about it.

“What is it, love? My friends, or my colleagues, do they bother you?”

“On the contrary. Your friends and your coworkers are as lovely as you are, of course. Well—I must admit Dr. Halliwell is... not my favorite, but... by and large.”

“Oh, he’s no one’s favorite. Bloody insufferable, he is. Alright, well, is there anything I ought to be doing differently? To help make you feel more comfortable?" "You are utterly blameless in this, Hob." "That's..." Hob sighs. "A relief, I suppose. But there is something. And if it’s not that, then...?”

And little by little, it comes out. How the last time Morpheus was as serious about someone as he is about Hob, the last time he was serious enough to want to bind himself to someone... her friends and family opposed it. Opposed him. Thought him entirely ill-suited for her. And on their wedding day, the happiest of days, he was so excited to share his joy with his own family, and none of Calliope’s side were there.

“That’s awful,” Hob says, with a few choice swears thrown in for emphasis. “And it must have been hard for her, too.”

“I believe it is a loneliness she still carries. One far greater than my own.”

~*~

It comes out that Morpheus wants to introduce Hob around, too. Wants to bring Hob to family dinner with his siblings and have Hob with him to receive delegations. How he wants Hob to sit beside him in the throne room of the Dreaming. And how Dream wants to know all Hob’s friends, his little found family of students, his colleagues at the university, his neighbors. How he wants to belong in the life Hob has built for himself.

Yet surely, this is bound to end in disaster, too. Surely he is ill-suited for Hob as well, and surely all of those closest to Hob can see it. Are thinking it to themselves. Are biding their time to tell Hob I told you so.

“But... you’ve got to know everyone adores you. They’re always wondering when they’ll see you next. My students are always asking after you. Everyone tells me we're great together, actually. Never seen me happier, wanting to bake things for you, insisting I bring you along to the next thing—all of it."

"Then it is only a matter of time." "Until what?" "Calliope's family were not exactly... incorrect about me, in the end."

"So... what—you think you're ill-suited to me?"

"I am ill-suited to love."

And of course Hob can't have Dream thinking that. It just isn't true.

So he goes out of his way to be even more vocal about the things Morpheus does that are appreciated. To remind him he is loved. To remind him he is welcomed. To remind him just how well-suited he is to Hob, and how much he fits into Hob's life.

So-and-so says hello, he tells Dream, multiple times per week. Hob stops politely turning down the biscuits his favorite TA sends along, and they've always got a note taped onto the Tupperware ("For you and Morpheus") that Hob makes sure Dream sees. (If Morpheus secrets the little Post-Its away in one of the inner pockets of his coat and Hob never sees them again, well, all the better for Dream to keep them.)

~*~

Hob brings Dream to sit in on his knitting circle one week at the New Inn. All his friends are so excited to have Dream model their scarves and gloves and shawls and cardigans. Morpheus stands there for all of it obligingly, feeling the dreams in each and every one of the stitches.

"Brigitte wants to know what you'd like for your birthday," Hob says to Dream one day, after he runs into his neighbor, who is also in the group, and is held up ten minutes by her asking.

"I do not have a birthday," Morpheus says. "Not as such."

"Yeah, but they all don't know that, do they?" Hob grins, cajoling. "Let her give you something."

"What should I ask for?"

"Well, she is getting on a bit, so nothing too adventurous. She usually just knits me something every year. We could just tell her your favorite color." Hob pauses for dramatic effect. "...What's your favorite color?"

"You jest, I hope." "Right," Hob says, voice full of stifled laughter. "I'll tell her. Nothing but black as the deepest midnight for my darling."

Morpheus wears the resulting jumper, a drapey, soft comfort, constantly; and when the armpits pill and if it ever even approaches becoming threadbare he fixes it gingerly with yarn woven of finely-sifted stardust; and Brigitte has only the best dreams of exactly what she wishes to dream about for the rest of her life. It is the least gift he can give her in return.

~*~

When Morpheus finally invites Hob to visit the Dreaming, Hob comes with an easy smile for even the smallest nightmare and an ear to bend for every dream he meets. He brings a profound and open curiosity for everything about the place. Everyone is charmed. Hob is so regular that some of them are baffled. But Lord Morpheus' happiness rolls off him in tangible waves when he is around Hob Gadling. The denizens of the Dreaming can feel that their lord is lighter than he has been in literal ages of his existence.

Everything in the realm is in fragile bloom for the first time in a very long time. The sunshine is resplendent. The air is balmy. Birds sing in the palace orchards. Hardly so much as a drop of rain dares to fall for weeks.

~*~

The first time Hob is invited to a soiree in the Dreaming he frets about his outfit for days on end.

Morpheus is privately amused by it. "You do recall this event is being held in the Dreaming," he says, sprawled on Hob's bed, watching him pass the fabric of two of his bowties between his fingers, one tie black as night and one so dark a navy it could almost pass for black as well. "You do not actually have to dress for it in the Waking. Your dream-self will simply manifest your preferred attire." Hob just scoffs at him. "Of course. But my imagination's got to start somewhere, right? I don't want to accidentally manifest pyjamas with ducks on them just in time to meet bloody Oberon because my mind forgot what a good suit looks like. Can you imagine?"

"I would not allow you to experience any embarrassment in my realm," Morpheus says, possibly with undue vehemence.

Hob glances over at him. "I know, love."

And the ties go forgotten after that.

~*~

“I’ve got something for you,” Hob tells Dream, one day.

They are in Hob’s living room, sitting on the couch together, Morpheus adrift on a veritable sea of throw pillows. He could, he thinks idly, craft these exact pillows in the Dreaming, replicate their heft and the give of sinking into them, and still they would not offer him such ease.

“Hob Gadling,” he says, disguising his delight rather poorly, he thinks. “You should not have.”

But Hob is already slipping to his knees on the rug in front of Dream, already pulling a small box from behind his back with a flourish, with the sleight of hand of long-abandoned habit. “Shouldn’t I?” he asks. “You deserve beautiful things."

Morpheus stares at the ruby ring, nestled on its little velvet cushion, for so long and so intently that Hob starts to sweat.

"I know it's been a long time," he says. "For both of us."

Morpheus is still staring.

"Fuck, I had an entire speech planned. Rehearsed it and everything. Gideon told me it was brilliant. But now it's like all the good words've been knocked right out of my skull. All I can think is—I hope you don't run off in the middle of me asking you to marry me." "I will not run off," Morpheus says.

"Good," Hob says. "That's good."

~*~

Morpheus is nervous, at first, about telling people. There is a part of him that wants to hold this joy inside his heart, hoard the buoyant sensation of being loved by Hob Gadling like it is a precious commodity that will disintegrate if he lets it out.

But Hob is generous with his love. He reminds Morpheus of it constantly.

“Dream,” Hob says, one morning, propping his chin on Morpheus’ bare chest to gaze at him. “You’re my fiancé.”

Warmth tingles through Morpheus’ body. “I am,” he says.

“I’m your fiancé,” Hob goes on, and now he’s grinning so wide Morpheus is sure his cheeks must ache. “God, am I really?”

“You are,” he promises, with a little swoop of something like fear, or elation, or both. Surely he cannot just have this joy. It cannot be so simple.

“I am,” Hob says, “the luckiest person in all creation.” He says it as earnestly as if he’s saying a vow, right there in their bed.

Hob’s exuberance is contagious, and Morpheus finds that his own smile comes to his mouth unbidden.

Perhaps it could be so simple if he allows it to be.

~*~

Hob is sitting at the kitchen table, addressing invitations to their engagement party, working his way through a stack of fifty laid paper envelopes. Morpheus sits sprawled in his customary chair next to Hob’s, observing.

“That is a great many people,” he says, plucking the pen from Hob’s fingers once he finishes the current envelope and setting it down before taking Hob’s hand in his, kneading the tension from his palm. “Are you certain they should all be in attendance?”

Hob looks up from where he’s scrutinizing his own calligraphy. He must catch something in Morpheus’ tone, because his face softens from surprise into concern. “Only if you want, love,” Hob says. “You know I’d elope with you tomorrow, if you preferred that.”

“Would that bring you happiness?” Thinking on it, Morpheus is unsure it would bring him happiness, now that it is being offered as an option. Strong as the greedy part of him that wants to hoard their love is, there is also the part of him that hungers for it to be known. To be seen. To be shown.

Hob’s brows knit together, then smooth out again. “I admit there’s a part of me that wants to shout about all this from the rooftops.” He laughs softly. “And there are a lot of people who are happy for us, you know. But—” And here he turns his hand in Morpheus’, so he can hold it properly. “I want you to be comfortable. I could marry you in this kitchen and not tell a soul til after—”

“I wish to have the party,” Morpheus announces, because it is, he finds, true. “And I wish to have a ceremony. Here. And one in the Dreaming.”

“Two ceremonies?” Hob’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Now you’re just being extravagant.”

Morpheus huffs. “You have seen nothing yet of my extravagance.”

He feels none of his usual trepidation at admitting it.

~*~

Their ceremony in the Dreaming is an intimate one. The castle is resplendent with flowers, and the twilight twinkles with stars and carries a hint of magic.

Morpheus presents Hob with a crown made of dreamstuff and a mantle lined with stardust much like the inside of his own coat. Lucienne gives Hob his own key to the library. He dances with Gault in the palace gardens, face lit by the auroras rippling through her wings. The new Corinthian swears to protect him. Matthew perches on Hob’s shoulder almost the entire rest of the evening.

Late in the night, Morpheus and Hob excuse themselves to walk together in the fields of the Dreaming, and to kiss beneath the endless sky.

A fraction of the tightness in Morpheus dissipates, having Hob here. Having him welcomed by his realm. Having his own choice so honored, and Hob so loved.

~*~

There are fifty people at their engagement party in the Waking world, and two hundred at their Waking wedding reception. Most of them are from Hob's side. By the end of the evening Morpheus’ hand is sore from being wrung so many times by well-wishers, he is surprisingly tipsy off surprisingly good champagne on which Hob had spared no expense, and he feels slightly effervescent himself, even in this Waking body.

The gifts table creaks under the weight of all the presents—many of them handmade. There is a hand-painted portrait and a hand-thrown ceramic bowl and a hand-knit blanket for his and Hob’s bed and a crocheted sweater for the dog they do not yet have together. There is a queue to sign the guestbook.

He drifts in the pleasant dreams their guests have for them—Hob’s fellow professors, his research assistants, his former students, his neighbors, his knitting group, his landlord, his philosophy discussion club. These people dream of happiness for Hob; of happiness for them; of happiness for him. There is love in their hearts for Hob, and now, by extension, a new love for Morpheus.

The rest of the old weight lifts from his shoulders that night, as Hob beams down at him, and kisses him long and slow, and whispers “I love you” while his patchwork of family—their family, now—whoop and holler and clap.

#the sandman #dreamling #SMOTHER MORPHEUS IN LOVE TIME

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cuubism · 8 months

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Zero [complex math verse]

cw for disordered eating eating disorder storylines can be very triggering so please mind this content warning as it applies heavily to the entire fic

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Hob is almost to his data structures section—running a bit late, as per usual—when he gets a call from Death. He picks up as he’s rushing up the stairs to the Comp Sci building.

“Hey, Hob,” she says before Hob can even tell her that he only has like thirty seconds to talk, actually. She sounds fatigued. “Can you go pick up Dream from the Maths building?”

Hob pins the phone between his shoulder and ear as he tugs open the door. “‘Pick him up’? Is he okay?”

“He asked me to come get him, but I can’t leave this patient right now.” Hob can imagine her leaning against the wall, hand pressed to her forehead. Why didn’t Dream call him?, Hob wonders. He’s usually much more available than Death, at this hour. “I asked if he wanted an ambulance, and he said no, but if you can’t go get him then—”

“Wait, wait.” Hob stops in the middle of the hall, stomach swooping. Someone walking behind him swears as they have to swerve to avoid hitting him, but he ignores it. “An ambulance? I thought you said he was okay.”

But... she hadn’t said that exactly, had she?

“He will be,” Death says, which doesn’t fill Hob with much confidence. But he turns around and heads back for the door, heartbeat picking up with each step.

“I’m going now, I’m not far.” The undergrads are just going to have to cope with not having discussion section today. He doubts they’ll be too unhappy about it.

“Thanks,” says Death, with relief. “Text me when you find him? And you should bring some food, if you have it.”

Oh.

Fuck.

Hob had been afraid something like this would happen. But he can’t exactly force Dream to pick up better habits. Horses and water, and all that.

“Yeah, yeah, I will, thanks,” he says, and walks faster.

Hob is going to be upset with him.

The thought circles Dream’s mind as he sits crumpled on the bench outside the classroom he’d been working in, head on his knees, hands clasped behind his neck. Nothing feels real. Everything is spinning and swaying. He might pass out. He might throw up. He hates throwing up. Hob is going to be upset with him.

It’s exactly what he was trying to avoid by calling his sister instead. Death will be upset with him, too, but she’s chastised him before. Dream is used to it. The same words coming from Hob will be a different matter.

He should have known that she would be busy, and would call Hob. Even if she could come to get him she would likely call Hob after. He should have known. He sits with his head pressed to his knees and waits for the inevitable.

Either Hob was very close by, or more time slips past Dream’s notice than he realizes, but it feels like only a few minutes before he hears Hob’s footsteps coming quickly down the hall. He doesn’t know what it means that he can recognize Hob’s footsteps. Or that Hob had known which classroom to go to. The one Dream always prefers to work in.

“Dream?” Hob crouches in front of him, trying to meet his eyes, but Dream can’t lift his head from his knees. It’s the only thing keeping the world from tipping over on him. Hob lays a hand on his arm. “Hey, love. What’s going on?”

“‘m dizzy,” Dream murmurs, voice small. He hadn’t realized how much his shoulders were shaking until Hob touched him. He thinks that’s distress more than physical shakiness. But Hob’s presence soothes him more than he’d expected. Even if Hob chews him out, he doesn’t want Hob to leave. He wants Hob to hold him. He just wants Hob to hold him.

“Okay.” Hob’s voice is quiet and calm. He brushes Dream’s hair behind his ear, though it’s not long enough for that to do much. “Sit up for me for a sec? I’ll help you.”

Dream is helpless but to follow Hob’s voice. He starts to sit up. His vision is still spinning. Hob wraps an arm around his middle and bodily lifts him up until he’s leaning back against the wall, then sits beside him on the bench, their thighs touching.

He meets Hob’s gaze. Hob is close enough that he doesn’t appear to waver as much as everything in the background. He looks beautiful, he’s a savior, an angel.

Dream’s brain is not working very normally right now. Not that it ever is.

Hob looks more concerned than angry with him. But Dream doesn’t have much time to study his expression before he’s turning to dig in his bag and pull out his water bottle. He uncaps it and hands it to Dream.

“Drink that. At least half of it. Slow.”

He goes back to digging in his bag as Dream sips the water carefully. Hob is very steady, underneath the concern. No panic. Good in a crisis, Hob. That’s interesting.

Hob watches him drink the water, then hands him a package of cheese crackers he’d pulled out of his bag. Despite himself, Dream laughs, weakly, as he takes it. “Do you always have food with you?”

“You’re not the only one who forgets to eat lunch, I just accommodate for it.”

‘Forgetting’ is… not exactly it, Dream thinks as he picks open the package and takes a cracker, eating it slowly. He still feels more nauseous than hungry, but he knows Hob won’t let it be until he eats it.

No, he has witnessed Hob skip a meal when in the throes of some engaging problem, but he always makes up for it later. Or by carrying around snacks, apparently. Whereas with Dream… it is not exactly forgetting.

He eats the crackers one by one, mechanically. Barely tasting them. Fortunately, the food cuts the edge of nausea in his stomach instead of exacerbating it, and he no longer thinks he’s in imminent danger of throwing up. Or passing out. That would certainly upset Hob.

“There you go, love,” Hob soothes him. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Hob could have gone into the medical field instead if he wanted to, Dream thinks, somewhat deliriously, swallowing his final cheese cracker. His bedside manner is very good.

Or perhaps this is just because it’s Dream.

The thought makes him want to cry, but he doesn’t. He just stays still as the world starts spinning a little less, and Hob takes the water bottle and empty snack package back and shoves them in his bag, then tugs on Dream’s arm.

“Alright, why don’t you lie down.”

“This is a public hallway,” Dream complains, albeit weakly.

Hob sighs in exasperation. “We’ve slept on classroom tables before. Besides, this is a university, everybody’s seen weirder shit in public than this. Lie down.”

Dream acquiesces, and Hob guides him to lie down on the bench, his head on Hob’s lap. It’s pleasant, like that, and the world spins less and less. Hob pets his hair, and Dream closes his eyes.

“Are you going to make me go to A&E?” he murmurs, after a few moments of quiet.

“Depends how you feel in twenty minutes or so.” He sighs, and there’s a shake to it. “But I think you’ll be okay, love. Just give it a moment.”

Dream will be okay, until Hob decides he’s recovered enough to chastise him for his behavior. For now, he just lies there quietly and enjoys the settling feeling of Hob’s hands in his hair.

Hob doesn’t ask him what he did to himself, or why. Perhaps he’s judged Dream too tired or incapacitated to talk about it right now. He just keeps steadying Dream, quietly, his hands ever-moving.

When several minutes have passed, Hob asks, “How are you feeling, darling? Do you want to go home?”

Darling. Hob calls him such sweet things when Dream is nothing but difficult to him. “I would like to go home. Please.”

Hob helps him sit up, bracing an arm around his shoulders. But the room, thankfully, has stopped spinning. He gets Dream to his feet, and Dream doesn’t sway. Hob picks up both his bag and Dream’s from the floor and slips them over his shoulder. He wraps an arm around Dream’s waist. And silently, relieved to be standing again, Dream follows Hob home.

Dream’s flat is closer to campus, so Hob takes him there, gets him settled on the couch and makes tea and pushes a box of biscuits into Dream’s hands, and all this before even telling Dream off for his behavior. Dream is not a child, he knows perfectly well how much sustenance a body needs to sustain it, he knows that it is unwise to go without eating, so why doesn’t Hob tell him so? Chastise him for his foolishness?

Dream sits curled up on the couch. Turning the box of biscuits over and over in his hands, unopened. Finally, Hob sits beside him with his own tea.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

Dream can’t manage to get himself to open the biscuits. He sets the box in his lap, but picks up his tea as a compromise that will hopefully ease Hob’s worries. It does not work, based on Hob’s expression as he watches him do it. Dream sips his tea anyway. Hob’s put a lot of honey into it. Correctly deducing that Dream hasn’t had enough sugar or anything else today.

Instead of responding, he tears up.

Hob puts both of their mugs back on the coffee table and pulls him into his arms.

Dream presses his face into Hob’s shoulder. Tucks his hands in against the warmth of Hob’s body, pressed between his back and the couch. Crawls halfway into his lap. Hob wraps his arms around him and holds him close. Dream feels like his soul is pattering around and only staying contained by the boundaries created by Hob’s body. He doesn’t know what that feeling is.

Hob strokes his hair, murmurs against the shell of his ear, shh darling, it’s okay. Dream is a pathetic cowering creature soothed by Hob’s touch. That feeling. It’s fear. He’s scared. Scared of himself. That he can lose such control while grasping so tightly for it.

“Thank you,” he finally manages, something he should have said earlier, but means more than he can say, “for coming.”

“You could have called me, you know.” It’s not accusatory, but a little hurt. “It’s okay if you’d rather have Death, just—”

“It is not that. I—” He pulls back to see Hob’s face. Hob wipes the tears from his cheeks. “Death has told me her feelings on the matter before. I was… apprehensive to hear yours.” Death, also, has seen Dream at lower points than this. She can hardly think less of him. The same is not true of Hob.

Hob looks sad to hear this. “My feelings are that I’m concerned. Did you eat anything today?”

“…No.”

“What about yesterday?”

Dream thinks. He must have, surely? “I think so.”

“I can make you stuff, you know,” Hob says. “Whatever you want. I don’t mind.”

This is the last thing Dream wants. For Hob to think this is somehow his fault.

“If you’re forgetting I can just come get you whenever I’m eating,” Hob continues. He’s only growing more distressed at Dream’s silence.

How can Dream tell Hob, who cares so much and wants to help, that he does this on purpose? That he doesn’t forget that he’s hungry, but rather ignores it? Or worse, relishes in it? That he has done so for a long time. That it makes him feel sharper. In control of himself.

That once broken, habits are, it turns out, very hard to pick up again. Even when that habit is eating.

“It is not so simple, I’m afraid,” he says, ducking his head.

“No, I guess it wouldn’t be.” Hob bites his lip, looking away. “Why, then? I want to help you, but I don’t…”

“It makes me feel better,” Dream says. “Until it doesn’t.”

Like today. He pushed too far. But it’s only when he does go too far that the reality of what he’s doing comes back to him. It’s easy to forget, when he is used to it.

Ironically, he knows from experience that it will be easier to eat better in the next few days, now that he’s shocked himself back to reality. It will be easier, until he slips again. He doesn’t know how not to slip.

When he finally looks back up, Hob is already looking at him again. He looks sad. Dream doesn’t want him to be sad.

Hob takes Dream’s jaw in his hand, strokes his thumb over Dream’s lower lip. “You scared me, seeing you like that.”

Dream should probably apologize for his behavior. Instead, all he can do is lean in again to press his forehead against Hob’s. He knows Hob wants to fix it, to offer solutions, but all Dream really wants is his touch. Hob’s touch fixes more for him than anything else.

“I’m gonna stay over,” Hob says, cradling the back of his head. “And we’re going to have dinner.”

It is, in fact, almost dinnertime, Dream realizes. No wonder he felt overcome, after having nothing until now. Hob will insist on him having something, he knows. It still feels… strange. To be having something.

He tucks his face into Hob’s neck. “Very well.”

“Will you eat some of it?” Hob asks, petting his hair again, tugging the short strands between his fingers. Dream thinks it must be soothing to him to do so.

“Yes,” he says. “However. I don’t want you to think that this is your responsibility to fix.” Or that you can. Hob is very very good at taking things apart and fixing problems, but if he digs his hands into this one he is going to get his fingers jammed in the unsteady gears of Dream’s brain. He is only going to get hurt in trying.

“Maybe not,” says Hob, and, like he heard what Dream didn’t say, continues, “but I can feed you one meal so let’s start with that?”

Does Hob understand how much comfort he brings? Can he possibly?

“I love you,” Dream murmurs, almost unintelligible for how close he’s pressed himself to Hob’s body.

Hob kisses his head. “I love you, too, my darling.”

He bundles Dream closer so their limbs are all tangled together. Dream loves that, how he can feel each pressure point where they touch. “Will you tell me more about it? When you feel up to it. The more I get how you feel, the more I can help you.”

As a child, Dream’s favorite number was zero. Some mathematicians would insist zero was not actually a number, but rather the absence of one. That was exactly what Dream liked about it. The nothing defined by the everything around it. Zero was foundational, and yet it was not even properly there at all.

Sometimes Dream felt like zero. The less he ate the more he felt it. It was easier to be nothing than to let the everything in.

“You are insistent upon trying to help me,” Dream says.

“Yup.”

“Because,” Dream realizes, with a hard swallow, “you love me.”

“Exactly. You get it.”

Dream twists their fingers together and squeezes. If Dream is zero, Hob is like infinity, so boundless that he can’t help but let it engulf him.

Perhaps one day Dream will be able to explain it all to him in better words than that.

#definitely NOT inspired by real life. lol #cw eating disorder #complex mathematics #this fic is part of the ongoing Let Dream Get Hugs agenda #hob out here a whole millennial calling dream shit like dear heart and my darling. old school romantic. they were made for each other #bc did you know all dream ever wanted in life was to be called dear heart and my darling. ok that's all #(he also likes being called baby. anyway)#dream of the endless #my writing #dreamling #hob gadling

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valiantstarlights · 10 months

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Personal Trainer Dream being Horny on Main is my life's one true joy

He may even take progress pictures of Hob during the course of his "training"

Week 1 of Relationship

Hob suddenly gets a picture of him taking two of Dream's pianist fingers (and Hob suddenly has to find a way not to be horny on main)

Week 52 of Relationship

Hob gets a short video clip of Dream gently coaxing him into pushing out the toy Hob has been wearing the whole day and Dream pushing in to keep Hob full

I think this ask made my fever worse and took me out for an additional one (1) business day. 😂

But yeah, same 😊 Dream being horny on main for Hob will always be S-tier to me. 🥰

And progress pictures??? 🔥 Yes.

I imagine Week 1 Hob would be super flustered upon receiving that notification. What does Mr. Endless (Dream 🖤) mean by this? Is he praising him for the progress he's making? Or maybe he's asking him to provide an update on his 'homework'?

Meanwhile, Dream sent that picture to Hob simply because he wants Hob to know that he's looking forward to 'training' him again 😏 Like, it's a sext. (kinda) No hidden meanings whatsoever about it. And yeah, okay, maybe he would like for Hob to reply with something sweet like, "I can't stop thinking about you, too 🥰" or a flustered, "Dream! 🥺 I'm at work 🥺🥺" but it's fine if he doesn't. Dream just wants Hob to know how crazy he is about him and how much he occupies his thoughts.

So imagine Dream's face when, half an hour after he sends that picture, he receives Hob's reply. And it's a picture as well?

He makes the mistake of checking the notification.

It's Hob inside a university bathroom stall, trousers down and simple cotton briefs pushed to the side, showing off the (small) buttplug he went to work wearing. He's red in the face, but also smiling sweetly. And the caption is, "Doing my homework! 🥰"

(Dream runs to the staff locker room so quickly to masturbate while looking at Hob's ass and hairy thighs and cute smile. Oh, but what he'd do to be in that stall with him to personally check on his progress!)

As the weeks go by with Dream and Hob exchanging 'training' pictures for updates (it's not sexting! how dare you lmao), maybe Dream thinks that Week 52 needs something special, and so he sends a video instead.

(At this point, his phone's very hidden [and password protected] spank bank is just filled with pictures and videos of Hob 'training.')

Hob still gets shy and squirmy whenever he gets Dream's training pictures of him, but it's a video this time, and ???? Oh gosh, does he really sound like that? He sounds so slutty and well-used, and Dream hasn't even fucked him proper yet.

But it's Dream's voice that makes him whine out loud. His gentle coaxing, and his soft "Good boy," followed by the sound of him finally entering Hob like they've both been wanting to, and the sounds the two of them make as Dream tongue fucks his mouth while his cock starts thrusting inside him.

The video is less than a minute long, but it got him so hot and bothered that he has to cancel his last two classes to rush home (to Dream's house). But then...Dream is home, too? And he's been waiting?

Hob scolds him half-heartedly because doesn't Dream know that he still has a couple of classes left to teach? But he melts when Dream pulls him closer to kiss him. It's just one day in a year, Dream reasons. And anyway, it's a long weekend, and his students would be glad to have more free time.

And...wouldn't Hob want to spend the next few days reviewing everything he learned that year? He's made such a huge progress and Dream is very proud of everything he has accomplished.

(Hob comes to work the following week still dazed but happier than ever. Dream had stretched and fucked him so well, but he also made sure to give him lots of aftercare so he doesn't feel as sore as he should have. His hole still intermittently twitches whenever he remembers their long weekend, but he's wearing a brand new custom made plug keeping Dream's cum inside him from just that morning, so it's fine.)

(Little does he know that the plug vibrates and oscillates to target his prostate. Dream kept that one a surprise, only turning it on when they're both back home. He doesn't want anyone else to see Hob's pleasure-filled face or hear his seductive moans, no matter how many toys he uses to train his cute little hole with.)

#personal trainer dream AU #ask and you shall receive #dreamling #the sandman #my writing

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kirkenovak · 1 year

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Dream decides to get married; Hob was right - he admits to him one evening- he is lonely, had been for a very long time and spending ~130 years stuck in a glass cage in some dude’s basement had not helped with this one bit. One might argue it made things worse.

And so, Dream of the Endless, embarks upon a quest to find a wife. Well, I say “embark upon a quest”, more like sits on his throne while an endless line of eligible bachelorettes present themselves to him, like it’s some Ye Olde Tinder and Dream is continuously swiping left.

Hob is… not impressed. He implores Dream to change his method of selection because world’s longest yikes, at least spend some time with your potential brides? Find out what they’re like before you reject them? Clearly the good old fashioned method of Ill See Her And Know She’s The One For Me is not working. Frankly, that’s the same advice that Lucienne and Matthew give him.

Dream gets an idea. He enlists Hob to help him find the future Mrs Of The Endless, because after all, who better than his best friend, to sieve through all these candidates? To know what he’s looking for? To advise him, to support him, to be his literal best man?

Hob spends then next several months helping Dream find his queen. Ok, I say queen but at this point they agree they have to cast the net a bit wider. Goddesses and fairy princesses and nymphs are nice of course, but we’re talking about finding The One for Dream! Also the pool of candidates has quickly dried out so to speak Imagination is the limit!!

And so, any supernatural being that believes they could impress Dream enough to have him propose, takes a chance; from the most beautiful beings of grace and beauty so radiant that just looking at them makes Hob cry, to the most terrifying demons from the deepest, darkest pits of hell, handpicked by Lucifer herself. Outer Gods whose eldritch shapes would cause instant madness in Hob if Dream’s power didn’t protect him. Old Ones so unperceivable to human eye that Hob simply… fails to perceive them. All shapes, all genders, all pantheons. It seems a bit too much for one human but he made a promise to Dream, he will not fail him, Dream will find love, even if it will literally kill Hob.

Alas, every single candidate Hob presents to Dream thinking they may be a suitable match, has something wrong with them; Apollo is too prideful, and frankly, a bit of a dick *coughspotkettlecoughs* The Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young has a family that loves to interfere, Formless Oedon wants an open marriage, Onoskelis is probably only here at the orders of Lucifer, to help her take over Dreaming, vampire queen doesn’t understand that Dream’s job comes first, Akkorokamui seems too clingy. Etc etc etc at infinitum

[Calliope joins the chat

Calliope: Hey guys!

Calliope: what’s happening in the dreaming??

Hob: We’re looking for a wife for Dream!

Calliope:

Calliope has left the chat]

Yet, every step of the way, no matter how many candidates Dream rejects, Hob is there for him, cheering him up when he’s down, making him laugh when he’s upset, always promising that they’ll find someone; maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow but someday.

Months, nay YEARS pass and then one day Dream asks Hob to present the next candidate and Hob says… there’s none. There’s no one left. There’s no being in this vast, endless cosmos that Dream hasn’t consider and then rejected.

Dream is, frankly, devastated. So all this in vain, huh? No one to be at Dream’s side no matter what? No one to love him the way he is? No one who understands him, knows him, yet chooses to stay despite his many many many faults? No one he can trust? No one who…. Oh wait a minute!

Turns out the real wife was the Hob we made along the way.

Hob and Dream: guys. Guys. We have something to tell you. We know it will come as a bit of a shock, frankly, we’re still trying to comprehend is ourselves, but turns out we are super in love and getting married?!?!

Matthew, Lucienne, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, Lucifer, Desire, Constantine: /sarcasm oh that is shocking and unexpected indeed! /end sarcasm

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

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softie-rain · 21 days

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Same anon that loves how you write Sejanus, headcanon only for him? 🥺 No reader just Sejanus now 💞

Love you anyway 💞

note: so it's funny because that was my first thought but then I was like, wait what if they mean it as dating sejanus? But don't worry I love talking about Sej so I'm super glad you "corrected" me. Anyway as I already stated anon ily thanks for making me write about my bby 🫶🏻 Also I really hope you don't mind I headcanon Sej as gay, so some of these are about that! Once again, tell me if you mind and I'll edit it and add something else :)

I wrote a little something about this one but I feel like on his first day of school in the Capitol he brought cookies that his ma' made, but no one took them and made fun of him for it ):

He has a stuffed pet (cat) that he brought from District 2 which he still sleeps with, his father thinks he threw it away long ago (his ma' knows about it though)

I personally headcanon him as gay even in the canon tbosas universe, I think he kind of always knew he had a thing for boys even back in 2 but his true first crush was Coriolanus (no one knows about this except for him)

The first year after they moved away from District 2 he always cried himself to sleep, his ma' heard him but didn't know what to do to help him ):

In the same period he also tried to run away but like, he's eight, so he didn't go far. As in he didn't even make it to the front door

He's almost constantly arguing with his father

now onto the happy ones because god what's this depression

his favourite colour is blue

He loves to read, like seriously. He's always at the Academy's library reading any book he can find, especially about Panem's history

As kids him and Coriolanus actually used to spend lots of time together, at Sejanus' house of course, but less when they joined the Academy. Only him and Coryo know about it of course

My man is not a virgin!!! He never had a boyfriend but he hooked up with Festus at his 16th Birthday Party

Festus was OBVUOUSLY drunk, and OBVIOUSLY neither of them acknowledged what happened

He kissed Coriolanus too. They were alone at Sej's house, his parents were out and the alcohol cabinet was unsupervised... (they were 17 at the time, one of the few times Coryo was at his house to work on a school project).

Sejanus' memories are blurry, was it a dare? Did they mean to do it? Either way Coriolanus was so wasted he doesn't remember a thing about the night. Sejanus on the other hand does, but knows better than to tell Coryo.

In District 12 he had some girls trying to flirt with him at the his cute adorable ass either doesn't realize they're flirting or is just super awkward about it, like

"Youre very handsome you know?"

"Oh! Thank you :)"

Yes the smile is included.

He loves the Coveys songs?? Like obsessed. He loves going to the Hob to listen to the songs (he's a bit sad Coryo is there for Lucy Gray but the music helps!!)

I feel like in District 2 with Marcus they used to do "races"? Idk like imagine coming back from school, "Who gets home last is a loser!" Those kind of things, to distract themselves from the horrors of the war

Studying is so easy for him? He has a photographic memory, so he just needs to read a paragraph, do a small schematic map on his notebook and bam he studied.

He daydreams A LOT. Especially at night before going to bed, he dreams of still being in 2 and often wonders how his life would be if they never moved

He always wanted to get a cat (even when in 2) but his father is allergic (the bitch)

Has a kid, when his ma' used to bake, he'd always steal some paste with his finger (It was not good. Often had tummy aches. He did not care and kept doing it.)

I could go on forever but that's it for today!!

Listen he sings in the shower. I do not make the rules I'm sorry.

Bonus, TS songs that are him coded!! I Can Do It With A Broken Heart; Who's Afraid Of Little Old Me; So Long, London; I Hate It Here; This Is Me Trying; Mirrorball;

#tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth headcanon #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #tbosbas #tbosas fanfiction

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delta-pavonis · 10 months

Text

July Kinkfest Day 20: Star Trek AU

The Sandman (Star Trek human AU) || Dreamling (Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling) || Rated E || 4k words

Prompts: Lingerie | Domming from the Bottom | “We need to leave right now.” (maybe the middle one if you take a different direction with it?)

Warnings (in addition to the prompts above): Star Trek AU, Star Trek Discovery seasons 1 & 2 minor references (you don't need to know any Star Trek to enjoy!), mostly I just love an excuse to put Ash Tyler in anything, Getting Together, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Talk, Face-Sitting, Rimming, Cowgirl Position, Idiots in Love, they are both unhinged for each other

Author's Notes: Inspired to finally do a Star Trek AU because Dr_Lecteur wrote this

Read below or on AO3.

He has officially reached his breaking point. He has been in love with the Chief Security Officer on his ship for a total of one thousand nine hundred eighty nine days.

Yes. He has been counting.

It is time, as his friend Matthew would say, for extreme measures.

Because he has it on the word of at least a half dozen other friends and crewmates, people whose opinion he actually trusts, that no, Dream is not imagining it, and yes, Hob is interested, and no, Hob doesn't consider everything Dream has done so far as enough of a 'first move' to overcome his anxiety about being Dream's superior officer, even if they are in different departments.

So when the crew finally gets a week of shore leave at Starfleet HQ because the ship is being refitted with updated nacelle architecture, Lieutenant Commander Morpheus Endless, known as Dream to his friends, decides to draw of a new definition of extreme in terms of seduction techniques.

Dream is nursing a brandy at the bar of the 602 Club just on the outskirts of the Academy. He knows that Commander Gadling will meet his friends here after he stops by to say hello to one of his old professors. He knows that in nineteen minutes, when the dancefloor in the basement opens up, one of Gadling’s friends from his Academy days is going to be the opening DJ. And he knows that Hob has a very specific kink that happens to fit under a tailored suit. All of these things he has learned not from his Section 31 connections – which he damned well could have used, you're welcome for the restraint – but from being a close enough friend shipside to get invited to parties where Hob lets his hair down.

He watches as Hob arrives without much fanfare, meets up with some friends who work at HQ, people who he hasn’t seen in a long time, clapping shoulders and giving hugs and offering cheers for being on leave. Laughing, they head downstairs. The rumble of the bass is just starting to make it up through the floor.

Downing the last of his drink in one swig, Dream follows.

As he slides through the crowd to head to the stairs Dream unbuttons the top two buttons of his black shirt and rolls up the sleeves to his elbows – not only is he going to be sweating while he is down there, but he is quite sure that Hob has never seen so much of his skin. Just one more weapon in his arsenal.

Dream prowls along the edges of the dancefloor, already thrumming with a small group of people that is getting bigger by the second. He can see Hob’s head bobbing amongst them, flashing lights making his hair gleam with amber and brass. He gives the man a few minutes to enjoy his friends, because Dream has every intention of thoroughly distracting Hob away from them. He will figure out how to make it up to Hob later. Much later.

He is a predator waiting for his opening. He feels terribly alive in this moment, aware of his blood and his breathing and his skin and his saliva. The crowd grows. The three fingers of liquor buzz pleasantly in his veins. The crowd grows further. The room gets hotter with the warmth of bodies. Dream starts sweating. The music is resonating in his chest and he is all coiled muscle and ready. Then he sees Hob with his head thrown back, lost to the music, and Dream pounces.

It is easy to slide through the writhing bodies when he is so focused on his target; physical contact with strangers is the least of his worries right now. He circles around to come up behind Hob, puts his hand gently on Hob's bicep and leans in to speak next to his ear. “Might I have this dance?”

Dream knows his expression is smug as Hob nearly jumps out of his skin, twisting around at the same time that he yelps “Dream!” Then the Commander takes in his friend and colleague with an obvious look up and down. To Dream's thrill, he watches as Hob blushes. “Holy shit! Dream? What are you…”

He puts his bare forearms on Hob’s shoulders and looks at him through his lashes. “I am asking you if you want to dance with me.”

“Dream!” Hob chuckles, nervous, but does not back away. “Christ, are you wearing eyeliner?”

“Yes.” He dismisses the question quickly as he steps in, maybe an inch between their bodies now. “Do you. Want to.” Hob is watching his lips and he has to stamp down a smile. “Dance. With me.”

“Fuck.” Hob hisses and wraps an arm around Dream’s waist, pulling them flush. It is like an ocean wave crashing into his body, a force of nature, flowing into and up his torso, eroding away any barriers Dream has left. “Yes. Of course I want to dance with you, you absolutely irresistible, gorgeous personification of hedonism. I have wanted to touch you from the moment we met.”

So long? Dream shivers with the excitement that his feelings are reciprocated. And the anticipation of what awaits them. “Then touch.”

Hob moans and buries his face in Dream’s neck, grinding their hips together in time with the beat. He doesn’t kiss or bite, just breathes and presses them close. But he doesn’t touch. Not like Dream wants him to.

Dream drops his hands to Hob’s wrists. “I said,” he moves one hand to grope his chest and the other to grab his ass, “touch.”

“Fucking hell,” Hob swears into Dream’s ear, breath heavy. “Who are you and where did you put my friend Dream?”

“This version of your friend has always been here. Waiting for you.”

Hob chuckles and it vibrates through Dream’s chest, a rush of warmth. “So you are saying I have been an idiot.”

Dream smiles. He pulls on Hob’s hair, pulling him back so that they are nose-to-nose, breathing on each other’s lips. “You are only an idiot if you stop.”

Hob melts into Dream’s kiss, paws at Dream where his hands were placed, and Dream feels the exact moment that he realizes it – Hob’s entire body stutters and he pulls back from the kiss with a gasp. “Oh no. Oh fuck. Did you? Are you?”

He responds with a smirk and unbuttons more of his shirt, enough to bare his shoulder and one pectoral. The black lace and red satin of the bra stand out in stark contrast to his alabaster skin, pale from a life almost entirely on starships.

For a moment Hob just stares at the garment, mouth agog. Then he is dragging Dream by the hips through the crowd growling, “We need to leave. Right. Now.”

They are in Dream’s temporary dirtside quarters so fast they might as well have beamed over. Hob slams him into the wall as soon as the door whooshes shut, the impact hard enough to cause the digital picture in the wall to flicker. Dream snarls and shoves back, driving Hob into the wall opposite and knocking a vase and flowers off the small table.

“Fuck me.” Hob gasps, pulling Dream’s shirt hem from being tucked inside his charcoal trousers. The motions are jerky and frantic and the last button just zings across the room as he reveals Dream’s torso and pulls the shirt off of his arms. Hob’s hands burn as they stroke from shoulder to hip, down once, then back up. “Fuck me.”

Dream fists both hands in the sweat damp umber hair and yanks Hob’s head back so that he can look into his eyes. “Actually, I was thinking the other way around. Would you let me strap you down? Could I tie you to my bed and ride you, Hob?”

Hob’s kiss is biting, a pact made in blood. “Yes. Fuck yes.” Dream may be taller but Hob easily lifts him and maneuvers further into the apartment. “Anything. I will do anything for you. You perfect fucking dream.”

Suddenly the bed is beneath them and Dream is straddling Hob’s lap and he can only smirk as he shimmies his trousers down. Beneath the charcoal wool is more black lace and red satin – garters, thigh-high stockings, and panties. Hob makes this nasal, desperate noise, so Dream backs away, stands up and lets the pants drop as he kicks off his boots. Then he turns around to show Hob his ass.

“You glorious minx, Holy Christ.” Hob’s large hands are bracketing Dream’s hips pulling him in between Hob's knees. Fingers travel over the exposed skin of his ass, not pushing in between but almost, confirming that yes, he is exposed from waistband to balls. “You are gonna ride me with all this on, aren’t you? Is that your plan?"

"Have to get your clothes off first but y-aah!" Dream is flung to the bed on his back and Hob is shucking off clothes as fast as a cadet getting out of full formal dress. Then he is over at the replicator and back with lube before Dream finishes laughing.

"I'm gonna leave you to getting any tying down supplies, since you sound like you know what you are doing and I decidedly don't."

Dream watches, soaking in the view of Hob naked as he kneels beside him on the bed. "Are you asking if I am an experienced dom?" He trails his own hand from collarbone to thigh, back up, preening under the rapt attention from Hob. "Yes, I am, which is why I won't be tying you down tonight. We can negotiate that at another time. I am too desperate to get your cock in me to have a proper talk."

Hob drops down onto all fours over Dream, cups his jaw and plunders his mouth. "How can you just say shit like that?" He is trailing little bites and kisses down Dream's neck and he arches into it, holds on to Hob's shoulders like a lifeline, fingers sliding in the sweat building there. "You are going to be the death of me."

"Can we please leave my sister out of this?" Dream growls as he pushes himself up, wraps a leg around Hob's hips, and twists, rolling the other man under him. Hob grunts as he is pressed onto his back and drags Dream into another round of kissing. "Now pay attention, this question is important,” Dream says, pulling away even when Hob whines with the loss, “Will you let me sit on your face so you can open me up with your tongue?"

The moan Hob gives is something out of pornography; Dream would have thought it faked if he wasn’t watching as his lover’s eyes went hazy and his whole body shook. Hob can’t even get out words, although his throat seems to try. Then more kissing, getting sloppier and more uncoordinated by the second.

“Is that a yes?” Now Dream is just being a brat. He knows it. That isn’t going to stop him. If for some reason this is the only time he gets Hob in his bed he is going to damned well enjoy every second of it, smug bastard that he is. "Use your words, lover."

"Yes. Yes, get up here. Yes." Hob starts scrabbling at Dream's thighs, tugging him up the bed and snapping the garters in the process.

Dream has a moment where he considers turning around so that he might more easily touch Hob, bring him pleasure – but no, he hasn't earned his pleasure yet. When Dream settles his calves parallel to Hob's ears, Hob makes an inquiring sound, nudging Dream's feet with his biceps.

"Give me a proper rimming and maybe I will deign put my hand on your cock." Hob whimpers beneath him, but brings both hands up to cradle Dream's hip bones. "And keep your hands there, pet. No touching yourself and ruining all the fun.”

Hob sounds like he wants to respond but doesn't get a chance to because Dream grabs the top of the headboard and drops his body down onto Hob’s mouth.

Hob takes the cue and dives in, zero hesitation, neck arching so that he can get a better angle, fingers digging around Dream’s hips so he can pull himself up and in. A few long flat swipes of his tongue over Dream’s hole then he is stabbing inwards, twisting and curling his tongue to pet and stroke where the skin turns smooth and wet and sensitive.

Dream cries out, grasps at words, trying to encourage, but finding only vowels can escape. Oh fuck, Hob knows well what he is doing, has clearly had practice in this type of sex, and sweet Christ he wishes that he had Hob’s cock in his mouth. It would sit heavy on his tongue and he could drive it deep enough to close off his airway, make himself even dizzier using Hob’s body. Instead, Dream grinds down onto Hob’s chin with an ecstatic, drawn out “Aaaaaaa!”

A pleased moan rumbles from Hob’s throat up Dream’s spine, making him snap his head back and sob to the ceiling. And still Hob pulls him down further, pushes himself deeper. Dream’s grip on his hair is no doubt painful, and the way he has started fucking himself down onto Hob’s tongue might bruise his nose, but this is what they have advanced medicine for. Death no longer even asks when he shows up in medbay, him or his partner looking fucked five ways to Sunday and asking for a quick heal-up.

Fuck it. Dream wants to come like this, Hob’s tongue and lips and teeth buried in his ass, rutting down onto his face slick with spit. It feels too goddamned good not to. So he shoves the panties down, grabs his prick in his fist, and fucks up into it as he rocks down onto Hob’s tongue and yes, there just like that. He comes all over the headboard, multiple spurts creating tangled stripes of his seed across the metal, and then he is empty, so empty, it is an ache he needs to fill and suddenly Hob’s tongue is nowhere near enough.

With a growl Dream is crawling backwards and now here is the benefit of this position because can grab the lube from where it has rolled to sit against Hob’s waist, continue backwards and he only needs to slather Hob’s cock liberally before he can sink down onto it and yes, oh yes. That. There.

Hob has barely caught his breath when Dream impales himself and he sounds like he has gone six rounds of bareknuckle boxing in three seconds. Looks it, too – all wide-eyed and sweaty, jaw slack and hair mussed to all hell, gaze unable to quite focus as his chest heaves. It takes a moment, but then Hob closes his eyes and smiles, laughing breathlessly as he swipes his fingers across the headboard and then brings his cum-smeared hand to his mouth. “Mmmm, you came riding my face.”

Now fully seated, Hob’s cock buried to the hilt, Dream stretches forward, sliding his hands up Hob’s belly and into his chest hair and over his shoulders. “That wasn’t my original plan, but yes. Felt too good not to.”

He pushes a hand into Dream’s hair, pets him. It is soft and affectionate and makes warmth bloom again in Dream’s pelvis. “Glad to know all that practice I got during my Academy days didn’t go to waste.”

Dream smiles, truly smiles, not something snarky or smug, and runs his fingertips over Hob’s lips. Hob nips at them once and Dream flicks his nose in return, both of them huffing out laughter. He is happy here, Dream realizes, stretched around Hob’s cock and across his chest, so, of course, his mouth goes and tries to do something exceptionally, extraordinarily stupid. “I luh–”

Dream slaps his hand over his mouth so hard it makes his teeth rattle and freezes. Too much. Always too fucking much. And now he’s gone and ruined it again and maybe he should just give up and go full spy like Ash is always trying to convince him – just disappear into the ether never to be heard from again. The Section can always use innovative neuroengineers like you, Dream. Ash says as he smiles that fucking charming ass smile. And I can always use a good deep dicking to keep my head on straight during tense missions. First Officer with benefits?

He closes his eyes and shoves the image of Commander Tyler away. Big brown eyes and a roguish smile always were his biggest weaknesses.

Hob wraps an arm around Dream and levers them both up, up until Dream is sitting in his lap and he is reminded that yes, he still has Hob’s fucking lovely cock inside him. He keeps his eyes wrenched closed, can’t bear to look at him as he whispers, “I’m so–”

“So help me god if you apologize right now Dream...” Dream’s eyes slam open and his mouth snaps shut. Hob gently removes Dream’s hand from his mouth and threads their fingers together. “Do you have any fucking idea how many of your friends and exes I have talked to while trying to figure out how to catch you for myself? Now who is too much, eh?”

Dream blinks about a hundred times in rapid succession. “You…”

“Please,” Hob presses their foreheads together, “please don’t stop. Just let me make love to you once. Then we can put all of our cards on the table and see if our baggage matches up.”

Make love to you. Dream cups Hob’s sticky face with his free hand and smiles. “That metaphor makes no sense.”

Hob’s relief is palpable as he presses their lips together in a soft, chaste kiss. “I am so worked up you are lucky I am even vaguely coherent.”

A smirk is back on Dream’s face, “So I shouldn’t do this?” Dream clenches down with his pelvic floor muscles.

“Fucking hell.” Hob lowers himself back to the bed and rolls his hips up into Dream, whose eyes flutter with the sliding sensation. “Only do that if you want me spent in 30 seconds. But if we play this just right,” Hob rolls up again and forces a soft unf from Dream, “I can fuck you into another orgasm so we can go together.”

They are rocking into each other, slow gentle movements that set Dream’s nerve endings on fire. “And what do you know of my refractory period?”

“Darling, I’ve spoken with both Calliope and Ash. Who send their blessings for us, by the way.”

“Traitors.” Dream says with exactly zero heat behind it, speeding up slightly and then leaning back. He puts his hand below his navel, snaps his hips down and imagines he can feel Hob’s dick buried in him. The image, of Hob filling him, thrusting deep into the guts of him, shoots arousal into every limb and he starts fucking himself harder, but with a steady slow pace.

He loves this, the ebb and flow of a lover into and out of his body, could do this for hours if given the chance. Once, years ago, a relatively unobservant dom tried to use this as torture when Dream got it in his head to sub for her, only to find him coming for the fifth time, completely dry, not a drop of liquid left in his cock or balls, screaming in ecstasy.

Hob’s hands are everywhere, petting every inch of skin he can reach, running over the lingerie and sliding beneath it, but never even grazing Dream’s half-hard cock. Speaking of traitors.

"So beautiful." Hob whispers, almost reverent. Dream can feel the flush bloom on his cheeks, but sitting astride Hob leaves him no place to hide, so he looks away. Only to have a firm hand turn his face back to forward. “No. None of that. You are. Come on, dove, let me see you.” He tugs at the band of the bra. It is quick work for Dream to unlatch it, shrug it off and Hob is grinning stupidly by the end. “You did that real fast. Like you do it all the time.” His hands roam up Dream’s thighs and snap the garters. “How often are you wearing these while on duty, Dream?”

Dream doesn’t answer, just starts moving faster, breathing puffing with exertion now. He caresses his stomach and chest again, pinches one of his nipples with his fingers until Hob bats him away to do it for him. He keeps tugging and twisting, harder and harder, alternating between them, until they are deep pink and Dream is crying out above him.

Finally, he is bouncing himself in earnest, hard cock bobbing with it, and Hob grabs one of his hips to hold on as he starts thrusting up to meet him. The slapping of their skin is loud in the small room – Dream can hear it even over the sound of his own moans and wails. It is so good. Better than good. It feels like Hob goddamned well belongs there, stuffed inside Dream, laid out between his legs, moaning his name from scream-chapped lips.

Hob goes to grab for Dream’s dick and he smacks his hand away. “Absolutely not. Wait until I tell you.”

“Oh fuck.” He watches as Hob’s eyes close and he starts gripping Dream’s hips hard enough to bruise. “I’m close. You better… soon…”

Dream leans back again, changing the angle and ramming his prostate directly onto the head of Hob’s cock. “Yes! Yeessss. Just let me… oh fuck yes.” Again. And again. And again. And again. And, “Now Hob!”

Hob grabs Dream’s cock, too tight and perfect and Dream fucks up into that calloused fist just once before he is screaming out his orgasm, hands reaching back to claw up the backs of Hob’s sweaty, furred thighs. Streaks of white shoot onto Hob’s chest, across his neck and collarbone and chest hair.

His cock stops spurting and twitching but Dream does not stop moving, fucking himself through the start of the aftershocks and shouting, pleading with Hob. “Come in me. Want your seed dripping down my thighs. Fill me, Hob.”

One more snap down of Dream’s hips and Hob is obeying, body going taut and arching and he damned well looks like some ancient painting of a person succumbing to a lustful demon, skin shining with sweat in the dim lights of the room. And then Hob’s moans turn into sobs when Dream keeps fucking himself well into Hob’s oversensitivity, until Hob’s cum is being pushed out of him around the softening cock, making an obscene squelching noise that has Dream smiling and almost purring as he slows to a stop.

Dream collapses like his strings have been cut, flops down gracelessly next to Hob, chest a heaving bellows. He lets his eyes close under the weight of the pleasure had. There is an absolutely dopey grin on his face and he cannot bring himself to care.

Silence, warm and comfortable, settles between them. Eventually Hob’s hand finds its way to tangle with one of Dream’s. He squeezes once. Dream squeezes back.

When Dream finally gets around to opening his eyes he finds Hob watching him, a soft smile on his face. “You are so fucking beautiful.” Hob turns onto his side so that he can bring one hand up and trail gentle fingertips across Dream’s cheekbone. “You are stunning, Dream. And if someone hasn’t told you that every day of your life then I damn well volunteer to finish the job, whether I ever have you in my bed again or not.”

Dream gets up just enough to bring his lips to Hob’s so that they can kiss, leisurely and languid, savoring taste and texture. Dream feels like he could fit here, make a home for himself in Hob’s body. He wants to. “How about we start with a shower?”

#Dreamling #Star Trek AU #human AU #Dream of the Endless #Hob Gadling #The Sandman AU #julykinkfest2023

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valeriianz · 1 year

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Dream hummed, like he was contemplating the passage of a book, his eyes roving over Hob’s absolutely wrecked face, flushed in a pretty pink, down his heaving chest and resting on the seat of his pants.

“Come on then,” Dream stepped back and Hob leaned with it, catching himself with a loud step that rattled him enough to cry out, nearly falling into Dream’s waiting arms. “I would see you in a more comfortable position.”

“Would you?” Hob mocked, laughing at the absolutely salacious way Dream looked upon him, taking Hob’s arms and walking them backwards to the bedroom.

“Did you think of me?” Dream spoke, his eyes darkening as he watched Hob slowly follow, gripping his marble smooth forearms with enough pressure to bruise. “With every step you took? Did you imagine me fucking into you?”

@messmonte your Hob Gadling strip game kept me on fucking edge the entire way through, even after it's completion... I just had to write it out as well.

#dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #dream x hob #my first dip into dreamling smut lets gooo lol #my writing

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pinksirensong · 2 years

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LOVE OF THE ENDLESS (V)

Finally peace was reigning for Love of the Endless, it seemed that Morpheus finally understood that she wasn’t leaving her life here and decided to leave her alone. It was like a weight left her shoulders, now she could finally have her happy ending. Today was like any other day, Y/N woke up tangled in Jake’s bed with him and they started their day, it was trivial as always and each went to do their own affairs.

Pulp Fiction, the nightclub both worked at, was more crowded than usual and Y/N haven’t left her pole the whole night and the crowd that surrounded her was always changing. The men were always almost drooling over her, perhaps it has something to do with her outfit that didn’t leave much to imagination or it might be the way the little devil inside of her came out when she was dancing. Jake wasn’t a jealous guy and that was a good thing in their line of work, but Dream of Endless was known to be, although he never was with her before. After weeks of freedom, he was back and angrier than ever, his eyes were glued in her figure while she danced and by the looks it was like Morpheus wanted to rip her out of there and run far away from all these people. Too bad Y/N enjoyed it, all the attention and the looks, she was seeking it every night.

- Hey, doll, you up for a private dance? – the annoying part was the too drunk costumers that would insist on trying something more with Love. – Come on, don’t be shy. – she drew a line when they touched her, her body was her own and nobody else had the permission to try something without her permitting it.

- You can watch me, but no touching. House rules, hotstuff. – the venom on her voice was enough to warn him “back off”. Y/N noticed that Dream wasn’t alone, another man was with him and by the stories she heard it could be Hob Gadling, the only friend he had outside the Dreaming. Hob was holding him, stopping him from coming to her, like she was some damsel in distress. Faking the sweetest smile, she waved at them. A few hours later she was free for the rest of the night, after putting a long coat Love decided to wait for Jake at her brother’s table. – Hello, brother. – she sits at Hob’s side. – And brother’s friend.

- What was that? – if the circumstances were different, if they were completely alone and she was dancing only for him, Morpheus wouldn’t be angry but turned on by it.

- Dancing, did you guys enjoy it?

- That was not dancing, Y/N.

- It’s the new times, dear brother. Look around us, nothing is like before. This is dancing and it’s a lot of fun.

- Those men around you were clearly under the influence of Desire.

- Perhaps, I wouldn’t know. In case he didn’t tell you anything, mister Gadling, I’ve left our family centuries ago. Although I do fulfil my duties, because I too am responsible for something much bigger than petty feelings. Unfortunately, my dear brother here just won’t leave me alone.

- He is quite stubborn and a little bit rude. – Hob turned his body to face Love. – Morpheus told me a lot about you and as someone who has loved and lost it, I can’t say I blame him for trying. Even anthropomorphic beings can change, just like you said before.

- I liked you, Hob Gadling. Your heart is pure, and you speak with passion, so I will grant you some words of wisdom: the heart never forgets. Worry less about my brother and more about your deceased soulmate. Surely as an immortal you haven’t really thought she was gone forever, right? – she stood up and looked directly at Dream. – I tried to be nice, but you leave me no choice. You cannot give what I want, what I need and deserve. I seek love and companionship, someone to warm my heart and not only my bed. I seek love and not desire, and that’s something you can never give to me. – without saying goodbye, she left them and went to the bar to find Jake.

- Is everything okay, sweetheart? – another positive point in dating Jake is that he could read her like an open book, Y/N didn’t have to pretend with him, except for the fact he didn’t know about her being an Endless and not human.

- It is now, hon. Are you almost done? I just want to go home and take a long bath with you.

- You tired?

- Not enough to not want to have sex with you. I don’t think I’ll ever be too tired for that, by the way. – she reached for his hand across the bar and squeezed it, he smiled at the small gesture. All Y/N wanted was to make Jake as happy as she made her, they couldn’t replace their soulmates in each other’s lives, but it was good, very good. She prayed to all the forces of the universe that they could stay like this forever.

Her little peaceful moment was over, as soon as her boyfriend went to back to get his things so they could leave her focus was now at him, because even if she didn’t want it, itwas automatic to feel him. Y/N could feel his eyes on them and that angered her, because how dare him come to her workspace with his friend and judge her and her choices?! The club was the safe space that she found on her own, the people there were her friends and some even more family than the Endless. Now Love felt exposed, this was a part of her life she didn’t want to share with anybody, especially Morpheus.

Now, Y/N wasn’t petty or mean, but he was asking for retribution, and it was long due. So, because she was feeling him watching her with an intensity that annoyed her, she couldn’t help herself. Jake had come back and before they could join hands to leave, he took something from his bag and gave it to her. That man had no idea what that meant, giving to her that beautiful apple, and honestly Y/N knew it was outdated to think of it as a marriage proposal. Taking all of this in consideration and the look at Dream’s face when he saw the scene, she thought that this might be the key to her freedom at least and did what was necessary, not only she smiled at him and took the apple but Love also threw herself at Jake’s and kissed him passionately. Perhaps a deep part of her wanted it, wanted a proposal and a beautiful wedding, but now wasn’t the time for that type of thoughts. Now they had to leave, the message was delivered. As Y/N watched Morpheus as she left with Jake, she could only think that if looks could kill her boyfriend would be long gone…or should she say fiancé?!

tag list: @the-ruler-of-death @mrs-captainsteverogers @jesllianaquilesrolon @igotanidea @intothesoul @hedwigprewett12 @queenshelby @mattmurdockmylove @boofy1998 @andieperrie18 @formenis @violet-19999

#morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #the sandman #love of the endless #morpheus x oc

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gabessquishytum · 2 months

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Long story short, human!Morpheus is horny. Newly divorced, he's had enough of this happily ever after shit - there's no force in this universe that can make him say 'I do' again. From now on, he'll be realistic. He just wants to get laid! Not only his ex - Alex Burgess - was a cold and uncaring partner in bed, but he also was cheating on Morpheus with their gardener. The audacity! To add insult to injury, their marriage was completely sexless in the last few years, and considering that they had had sex only a few times per year before...Morpheus is seriously underfucked. His sister Death jokes that if Morpheus doesn't find anyone soon enough, he'd probably develop feelings for his vibrator. The worst is that she isn't even wrong, not that Morpheus is ever going to admit it. Morpheus is desperate. He's never been good at social interactions, so meeting someone in reality is…complicated. He goes on Tinder. Everybody does it, how hard can it be? What he gets is a pile of dick pics and a few evenings of some very poor dirty talk. Utterly disgusted, he deletes his profile and this cursed app. And then - hallelujah! - when Morpheus has kinda resigned to a life with his vibrator, his sister introduces him to one Hob Gadling. Hob is handsome, bold, says all the right things, and his hands…oh, Morpheus imagines his hands in places where no one touched him for a while. Hob's looking at Morpheus like he wants to eat him alive. Or maybe eat him out. So, when Hob propositions him, Morpheus can't grab him to the cab fast enough. He's never been religious, but he's praying to every deity he knows that Hob won't be a disappointment in bed.

Asksdksjajjs horny divorcee Dream is such a delightful concept. And isn’t he a lucky boy? He’s just found himself a pot of gold in sexual form.

Dream is trying to curb his own expectations as he sits next to Hob. He can’t get his hopes up too high. He mustn’t act disappointed if Hob happens to be… underwhelming. He’s a grown man and he needs to keep a lid on his horniness. But with Hob sitting beside him in the cab, it’s very hard to stay calm. Even harder when Hob takes Dream’s chin between his fingers, tips his head back and kisses him like they’re in an old movie. Dream whimpers. All bets are off, he’s not going to make it out of this alive.

Especially when Hob carries him up the stairs inside his apartment building. Dream clings on and feels the flexing motions in Hob’s arms and chest. He’s getting so worked up it’s actually embarrassing! But Hob looks pretty desperate too. The way he presses Dream up against the front door and sucks on his tongue definitely doesn’t come across as apathetic.

Dream has never been rimmed before. Ever. His shitty former husband never bothered. But Hob? He’s about to do it about an hour after their first meeting. He whispers into the crease of Dream’s thigh about how he just can’t wait any longer to taste him. This might actually be heaven. Dream is laying on his own couch with his legs splayed as wide as they go, and an incredibly sexy man is saying incredibly sexy things 2 inch away from his arsehole. Holy shit.

Hob makes him cum twice. He’d have kept going, but Dream begged for mercy. He’s not as young as he’d like to be, and he just needs to bury his face into Hob’s chest hair for a bit. He’ll come out eventually.

But there’s no way in hell that he’s letting Hob go anywhere!

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

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wordsinhaled · 8 months

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You said that your ask box was open a little bit ago so hello! ik you're currently on a dr. who & GO streak but I recently heard the song "Til You Love Me" and I was curious as to your thoughts on it regarding Dreamling, because. uh. :

Please, don't say I'm wasting my time I've got nothing but time so I'll do all that I can to catch That ghost of a chance

But if dreams give you power Then I'm strong enough to offer my heart And never give up till you love me Until you love me

I looked in your eyes, so bright and so blue And that's when I knew that you could be mine If good things come to those who will wait Well, I guess I can wait if that's what I have to do Oh, it's worth it for you

And I'm aware that that's like half the song quoted but it is so them coded in my mind.

It admittedly came out in 1995 so not something that Hob could be thinking about during the Missed Meeting (tm) but still. look at those lyrics!

yes - my ask box is always open for anything at all! thank you so much for the ask <3

this song IS so dreamling coded, gosh!!!

this is possibly a PATENTLY ridiculous idea but—

i'm imagining modern day dreamling (maybe post-reunion and post-dream telling hob who he is, but before they actually get together?) where there's a Classic karaoke night at the new inn and hob invites dream. he thinks dream will probably find it deeply silly and trivial and beg off, seeing as he's the king of dreams and all, but dream actually shows up and hob is thrilled to see him... and he ends up singing this song to dream in the cheesiest possible way, as the night is dwindling down.

it may take him all night to work up the courage to do it but it's both the goofiest and most earnest slightly-tipsy-but-completely-serious love confession of all time, in the end. everybody who works at the inn and even some of the regulars have been hearing robbie talk about how gone he is on his best friend for AGES so there may or may not be some cheering when hob sways up to the mic and goes "you know i don't often sing at these things, but i'm dedicating this to someone very special to me. so, erm, here goes," and then grins right at dream.

after the song is over there's a bunch of clapping hob's not actually sure he deserves for that rendition but dream is giving him an inscrutable look, and hob is blushing like mad as though he's a lad of barely twenty and not nearly seven hundred years old. he passes the mic to the next person and shoulders his way through the crowd to dream, who is still looking at him. hob's inner monologue is something like, well, he either wants to murder me for embarrassing him or eat me alive. murder'd be fine right now actually.

"hob gadling," dream says.

"hello," hob says—and despite himself can't keep the soppy grin off his face. it's still so new having dream here, again, in the flesh. "didn't think i'd see you tonight."

"you are a fine singer, my friend," dream tells him.

hob barks a laugh. "hardly! i was just—" this is where he can play it off as a joke. dream had just called him his friend. this is where he can still save even a tiny bit of face and pretend he hasn't been in love with dream since thirteen fucking eighty nine. but... in the end he can't bring himself to pretend. "well, that song's always reminded me of you, i suppose."

"it has been a long time since someone offered up a love song in my honor," dream says. it should come off as a totally pretentious thing to say, really, but dream's mouth is turned up at one corner in the beginnings of a smile, and instead the words make hob's heart do a little flip.

hob tries not to think of all the people (humans? gods? fey creatures? other immortals?) who have dedicated romantic ballads to dream in the past. he wishes he had something to occupy his twitching fingers with, to make it easier to fight the urge to reach over and take dream's long pale hand where it rests on the table next to his wine glass.

and basically like. REALLY SAPPY trying-not-to-flirt-but-still-flirting! and hob is trying to be all chivalrous about it, all, "it doesn't have to mean anything that i badly sang you this soppy song!!!! you called me your friend and i value you so much as a friend!!!!!! i promise i'm not trying to pressure you!!!! i just want you to know how important to me you are—" and dream is all "calling someone a friend is something that can be So Much Deeper Than That if you're dream of the endless" and then they have a sappy lil first kiss because clearly the thing that broke the dam on his Feelings for hob was hearing a mediocrely-sung karaoke version of a reba mcentire song performed for him under dive bar mood lighting :))))

<3 <3 <3

#the sandman #dreamling #karaoke night at the new inn etc etc

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avelera · 1 year

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Can I just say - the entirety of GS chapter 15 was spectacular and I loved every word of it, but above all my favourite line was Dream saying “my eldest brother does very little”

I just - love all the sibling pettiness that single line contains. I’m very much with Hob in thinking that Dream’s exasperation is charming. Like Dream just eyerolling 🙄 and telling Hob - “yeah yeah my big brother’s destiny or whatever but don’t be fooled - he’s not that important and he’s not cool and maybe I love him but he’s also kind of a prick.”

Also… Dream rejecting Destiny’s offer of dinner by saying “I have better uses for my time” and squeezing Hob’s hand?? Why do I feel like he’s planning something?? Maybe it’s just me but I’m side-eyeing Dream (and you by proxy lol). I feel like some sneaky courting may be afoot (or maybe that’s just wishful thinking).

Whatever happens I know it will be wonderful because it’s you writing it!! Thank you so much again for the delight you give through your stories!!

:D :D :D Thank you!

I mean, I admit, I did some due diligence, and as far as I can tell Destiny... reads. But he is the workaholic of the family, which is saying something in a family that also contains Dream and Death. But I like to think of Destiny as that older brother who is at the office 24/7. You know he's always at work but... why? What is he doing there? What's his day to day? No one knows. He just lives there so he has to be working all the time... right?

(Oh great, now I'm imagining Destiny as completely obsessed with Farmville or some other game you can totally get away with playing at an office job, lol.)

Now, I will say because it's not really a spoiler: Dream is not planning anything new with Hob. There's no grand courting plan coming out of nowhere to anticipate, though more plot-y stuff is coming down the pipe soon.

If we were to be in Dream's head in that moment, we would see that he's thinking about the initial bargain to look after one another. He's thinking about Hob's panic attack on the beach in Naxos, and how one of the nightmares (aka, PTSD but the term hasn't been invented yet) that haunts Hob's waking hours was caused by Dream abandoning him and leaving him alone at his lowest moments in the 1600s, when the reason Hob was immortal at all to go through all of that was Dream's fault (as Dream sees it) and he didn't help this person he's now in love with out at all. And he feels immense guilt for that now that he's realized he's in love with Hob! (Bro fell fast and hard at the meeting in Ch. 1.) He's thinking about how he feels he owes Hob his undivided attention for at least a little while, and we're talking cosmic scale here with the Endless! Dream is like "Maybe in a century I'll have cuddled Hob enough to feel ok with leaving him home alone for a night if he wants me here, ok, Destiny? You can wait until then, I've got better things to do and people I'd rather be spending time with if this isn't urgent."

Not that this is a burden for Dream! He just genuinely means he's busy right now looking after Hob as part of the agreement where Hob looks out for him and he sees that as higher priority, especially after Hob's very recent panic attack about Dream abandoning him, than a dinner that isn't even a formal Endless conclave and where Destiny won't tell him what it's for. So yeah, Dream is being a bit of a salty younger sibling about it. (As the oldest in my family, I am looking forward to writing some high-handed oldest sibling shenanigans for Destiny lol)

#1689 fic #fic reactions #THANK YOU messages like this are the Light of my Life #giving sanctuary #giving sanctuary bts

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orionsangel86 · 9 months

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As someone who basically knows the deepest parts of everyone's minds, what does Morpheus think of the concept of privacy?

Ha! If only we could ask him ourselves!

I think by his very nature, privacy probably isn't something he considers too much. He basically has a direct line to our inner most thoughts, dreams, fantasies, imaginations, etc.

He IS Dream after all. He contains the entire collective unconscious of all living things that dream within him. I think he is less concerned about privacy of others, and more concerned about burying that burden so he's not constantly being bombarded with all of that.

In the show alone, we have seen him enter Constantines dreams to watch her worst memory play out, without her consent, he turned up in her apartment and watched her sleep whilst he waited for her to wake up. He was able to reveal the dreams of all the diners to John without a glance. He revealed the traumatic past of Louise Baldwin to Hob Gadling by simply looking in her direction. He was happy to flick through entire dream journals on Rose Walker before they met. He and Rose intruded on the (sometimes very intimate) dreams of her friends and housemates.

I don't think Morpheus thinks much about boundaries when humanities most intimate dreams and nightmares are basically his day job, even more so, they ARE a PART of HIM.

It amuses me that there is an area of the Dreaming called the "love fields" which appears to be nothing but sex dreams. The fact that the library of the dreaming contains all the unwritten works of famous authors that they only ever dreamed about, as well as the entire dream journals of every dreamer.

Dream is nothing BUT a huge invasion of privacy lmao.

Its interesting that its an area that doesn't really get touched upon much in either comics or show. But I wonder if perhaps this is part of what he struggles with. The fact that he has to maintain a constant level of control so that the collective unconscious doesn't consume him - implying he has some metaphorical dam within him holding back everyones innermost private dreams and he only allows certain things to trickle through when he chooses too.

It's also worth stating that Morpheus' himself apparently doesn't get much privacy within his own realm. His emotions project outwards and affect the dreaming to the extent that all his subjects know the intimate details of his disastrous love life. His siblings affect each other just as much as they affect every other living thing, with Desire clearly being able to influence and affect Dream in ways that any regular human would find absolutely horrifying. He rarely uses his private chambers, and when he does want true privacy, he has to go through an elaborate process of locking door after door to ensure he is not disturbed. His ravens can find him wherever he is - though Dream made it clear to Matthew that he doesn't appreciate being spied on - and privacy appears to be something that is in short supply in the dreaming in general.

Overall, I think it's less that he has no respect for people's privacy, and more that he doesn't have a choice either way, because by his very nature, its impossible for him to truly respect our privacy.

#the sandman #sandman meta #dream of the endless #morpheus #my meta #asks

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flailingangel · 2 years

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I'm slowly beginning to understand why dream fucking stormed out of the pub after hob said they're friends (excluding the fact that he's more than a god and hob is just some guy™). Like imagine you go to a club and start hooking up with a guy.

U barely know each other and u don't even know his name but u both know you'll be there every month on that same exact day because you both have busy lives but sometimes y'all need to let your hair down and that just so happened to be the day ur both free. And then one day this guy(who's barely a friend with benefits btw) asks "so we're dating right" and the AUDACITY. Sure you like to go out of the club so you can actually hear each other talk. Sure you walk home together and get snacks and eat together. Sure maybe you even hang out at each other's houses waiting to use the shower or just having tea. Maybe he's even protected you from some street thugs that one time and you saved his ass in the end. BUT HOW DARE HE SUGGEST YOU'RE DATING?! You told him from the start this was just a hookup.

It's not like you made heart eyes whenever he would go on rants about how much he hates Shakespeare even though you love him. Nevermind the fact that you feel butterflies in your chest whenever he talks about the most mundane shit "omg they've added Fanta to the menu" "we can vape inside now!" "What will they think of next" or how you feel alive when he talks about how shit a day he's had "my girlfriend broke up with me" "you have a girlfriend?" but still wants to continue working at his shitty 9-5 job and live in his shitty shoebox apartment BC "life is rich" and "I have so much to live for".

Nevermind all that. You're just a stranger in the club and he's just some guy you're on slightly good terms with. You're not dating. You don't need intimacy thank you very much. Too messy. You live in a studio because housemates always gossip. You're single bc you love your work. You're alone because you like the privacy. You're only hooking up bc your sister mentioned it once and it intruiged you. What need do you have of a relationship? And then you miss the meeting. Not because you don't think you're friends as the guy says but because you're being held for ransom as your older sister is actually a member of parliament as are your parents. But it's your sister they want.

As you're kidnapped you have a lot of time to think about your past relationships. That one didn't work out because you were a dick. Plain and simple. You really should let her out of prison but old wounds still haven't healed. The next one was because she had started seeing that other guy. What was his name? You don't remember. The other one seemed to be going well. You courted her right, no missing son, no fights. But she still left you. Why? You can't understand. You just went to her one day and she said she couldn't keep doing this. But you brought her creations no one else could make. Showed her beauty beyond the two of you. What was it then? What did she say? You struggle to remember, to find the puzzle pieces and put them in the right place at first. But you're stuck for a while. Your parents don't come-you're an adult after all- nor do your siblings who mind their own business. Time passes ever so slowly. You come up with ways to torment your captors when you escape. Maybe kidnap the man's son so he knows what it's like. Or his husband. Maybe burn the place to the ground. Or kill them and dump their bodies in the ocean. You have the money from your work as a glass artist to buy a boat in their name. How would you get out? Would you real your thumbs to get the cuffs off? Or would you be saved by the guy from the club?

What would you say to him? You'd definitely call him a friend. You'd hang out more than once a month. You'd go shopping and get clothes. How you missed clothes. Even the feel of denim chafing your skin would be welcome right now. You'd hang out the morning after. Make breakfast. Burn it. You'd tell him he was right and you were dating. You'd tell him you were in love. Then you'd mess it up and he'd leave you. Just like all the others did. What had she said? What did you do to drive her away? You always visited her when he had time. When the work wasn't too much and he remembered the day. Sure that meant sometimes he had to miss out a date or two but you always told her. Better than how you left things with Hob. Abrupt and without warning. Then you remembered how you'd tell her. Only an hour before the date. She had made a reservation and had been looking forward to it for days. Sure you had let her know but only barely in advanced. And there was that one time you didn't even keep track of the time. Let alone the date and you'd missed a weekly date. She'd brushed it off but now you can see the resignation in her eyes as she said it was fine. And that was it wasn't it? That was the final nail in the coffin.

Not with him. Not with Hob. You'd tell him. You'd break out of this godforsaken hellhole and tell him everything. It didn't matter anymore. Fuck pride. Fuck privacy. Fuck mess and tidiness. You would tell him, the once a month hookup. You'd admit he was right and you were wrong and you loved him and you were dating. Just as soon as you got out of these cuffs.

#dream of the endless #dream sandman #hob gadling #dream x hob #dreamling #dreamsandman #sandman hob gadling

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