#and none of them are hob

[amielot]

@seiya-starsniper's snippets made me have questions. What about Hob having a bath? Can Dream recognise the difference? Or is he still healing from a lot of things to tell the difference of Hob before/after a shower? Will Dream need to mark Hob with his scent??? AHHHHH *screams in Matthew the raven*

I miss the horse girl au 🐴 and I miss you. I hope you're doing well 💖.

@embroiderling

Oh Dream can totally tell Hob’s scent apart from others.

Horses have a great sense of smell, and that’s something I’m super excited to bring up :)

I think, initially, Dream just thought Hob reeked of humans. And when Hob didn’t bathe, he just smelled even more “human”, which to Dream was deeply unpleasant and unsettling.

But they’ve spent some time at the barn now. So I think that strong negative reaction has faded. I don’t think Dream has realized this yet, but he can probably differentiate Hob’s scent from Unity’s by now.

there may be some scent marking in some form lol. It’s such a great trope 🥰

Also thankyou!! I’m doing well! Life just gets busy at certain points in the year. Lol it is what it is.

However, I’ve been working on some projects I wanna post soon that I think people will like :))))

[shadowgale96]

Okay, but IMAGINE Hua Cheng freaking out internally because he was NOT prepared for what an absolute freak in the sheets Xie Lian turns out to be.

[kulapti]

hello hi there are some really good posts and ficlets about Sandman characters wearing sweaters and this idea is one of my favorites! Dream Team puns from @softest-punk and also Matthew's delightful dialogue in the fic Hounds by @xx-vergil-xx

I think the three ravens of the Dreaming should get to be friends and hang out?

[Dec 2022, pencil & krita, ID in alt text]

[littledreamling]

Free fic idea for anyone who's seen both The Old Guard and The Sandman: When Andy and co all have a dream about a man with brown hair and tanned skin, a tweed jacket, a sign for a University in London, and a pint of beer, their immediate thought is that it's way to soon to have another immortal on their hands. They have just settled in with Nile and the banishment of Booker is still fresh in their minds. But they have a job to do, so they eventually find their newest member walking across campus, surrounded by a gaggle of students, laughing at their enthusiasm and answering all of their questions. He doesn't seem to be injured, either physically nor mentally, which is... surprising? Worrying? Usually they only dream about their newest members after their first death, but this man doesn't look like someone who's experienced a death at all. Oh well, there's a first for everything.

When they confront him later, in his office, it's immediately evident that the man, one Dr. Gadling, has never seen them before in his life, not even in dreams, which is even more surprising. Even more worrying. And then it comes out that he's been alive for 600 years and suddenly the Old Guard Immortals have no fucking idea what they're dealing with. Why haven't they dreamed of him before? While they're discussing this amongst themselves, in full view and earshot of Hob, he starts to put the pieces together and asks which night, specifically, they all had a dream of him. Upon hearing their answer, he can't help but to double over in laughter because on that particular night, he and his husband Dream had engaged in a rather... enthusiastic bout of lovemaking and his beloved has a bad habit of invading the dreams of others with images of his beloved.

Anyway, I think Joe would absolutely love Hob and they'd spend hours gushing about their lifelong companions and their shared love for life and everything it has to offer. Maye Hob would be able to offer insight on the Booker situation and maybe they'd all be able to help each other stay safe in a world of technology and constant surveillance. Maybe the Old Guard Immortals could loan their friend Copley and his services to Hob. I think Hob would immediately adopt Nile as his daughter, especially with her own father out of the picture and his own children long gone. I also think Hob would just be ecstatic to find other immortal humans to spend time with, to talk to, who actually understand who he is and what he's going through. He might not be exactly like them (though he's going to drill both Death and Dream for answers, especially since it seems like they both worked together to create the system of immortality that the Old Guard Immortals are a part of) but they have enough shared experiences that he still immediately feels a kinship with them

[rainbowvamp]

Five Comfort Characters, Five Tags!

Tagged by @4typercent<3

1) Dream of the Endless (The Sandman)

2) Hob Gadling (The Sandman)

3) Lancelot & Merlin (Merlin)

4) Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock)

5) The Corinthian (The Sandman)

@ladytian @honeyteacakes @tj-dragonblade @acedragontype @rooftopwreck (No obligation, just if you want <3)

[antiquery]

I know this is in part because of the Choices the Netflix adaptation made so I can't be too peeved at the internet, but shipping Dream and Hob and being like "yes they are good for each other and it would be awesome if they had a romance" is the narrative equivalent of looking at Don and Peggy's dynamic on Mad Men and thinking "aha, I know what will Fix Don, and it is hooking up with Peggy." my brother in Christ that man is a monster in a person suit who ruins everything he touches even when he doesn't mean to except for the single solitary honest friendship he somehow managed to salvage from the wreckage. at least one of his romantic partners is condemned to Hell because of him! this is not going to go the way you think!

[ro-moray]

Chapters: 9/9 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling/Other(s) (briefly) Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Eleanor | Hob Gadling's Wife (The Sandman), William Shakespeare, Jessamy the Raven, Matthew the Raven, Lucien | Lucienne (The Sandman) Additional Tags: Developing Relationship, POV Hob Gadling, Hob Gadling through the ages, Hob Gadling's himbo energy, Time Skips, gloriously inconsistent chapter lengths, Pining, dubcon vampirism in a dream in ch5, This is a pretty mild M rating, very mild sexual content Summary:

Hob's had a number of theories about his strange friend over the years. They are all, of course, completely incorrect.

[yary-t]

Chapters: 10/10 Fandom: The Sandman (TV 2022) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling Characters: Hob Gadling, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Roderick Burgess, Alexander Burgess, Matthew the Raven, Death of the Endless, Paul McGuire (The Sandman) Additional Tags: Hob Gadling Saves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus from Roderick Burgess, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, fluff in later chapters, Everyone Needs A Hug, or a psychologist, but what they actually do is talk to each other about everything but their recent trauma, Lucid Dreaming, or at least the very basics of it, Complete, as in it has an ending and doesn’t call for a sequel, Mostly betaed

  Summary:

1989. As Hob waits for his Stranger, a member of the Order of Ancient Mysteries comes into the White Horse looking for the man who meets someone there every hundred years.

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

Or: a kidnapping, torture, a fishbowl break, overdue conversations, feeding the birds and falling in love.

[fulcrvm]

i really really desperately want to write a 1989!hob fic just so i can title it 'men in the cities' and draw art of it after robert longo's "men in the cities" artworks aauaghh

[sturniluvr]

La Liga Champion

Jude Bellingham x fem!reader

word count: 734(?)

Warnings: none, just fluff

Requested: yes/no

Summary: based on this request hope I did well and you like it anon <3

Y/N sat on the sofa of hers and Jude’s shared house, scrolling through her phone while awaiting her boyfriend’s arrival home from the parade after winning La Liga, she was absolutely over the moon for him and couldn’t wait to tell him how proud she was of him. Whilst scrolling through TikTok she came across a video of Jude from the parade, drunk singing into the microphone, she let out a chuckle watching her drunk boyfriend singing.

Still awaiting his return, she decided to head over to the kitchen and make some food for him, knowing he’d need some food in his system after drinking a fair amount and having training the next day. She eventually decided on some pasta.

*mini time skip*

Y/N was stood in the kitchen, cooking the pasta for her and Jude when she heard the front door open.

“Babyy your champ is homeee” she heard Jude yell, his words slightly slurred.

“In here” the Y/H/C woman shouted back from the kitchen. Jude made his way through the small hallways leading to the kitchen and as soon as he found his loving girlfriend, he immediately stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing little kisses to her shoulder.

“Hi beautiful” he mumbled into her shoulder “what delightful food are you cooking tonight?” He said, making a lighthearted joke to her mediocre cooking skills. He turned her around so she was facing him, and he gave her a quick kiss on the lips, a drunk, cheesy grin making its way onto his face, she lets out a soft laugh at him.

“Hi champ” she smiled up at him before turning back around to face the cooker, turning the heat down ready to take the saucepan full of pasta off the hob. “if you must know, I’m just doing us some pasta, and it’s almost done, could you grab the cheese and sweetcorn out the fridge please love?”

“Yes ma’am” Jude replied with a little salute and slightly stumbled to the fridge, picking out the bowl with pre grated cheese in and the tin of sweetcorn and closed the fridge door. Once Y/N had dished the pasta into two bowls, she left Jude with the job of mixing in the sweetcorn and putting the cheese on. While Jude, in his words ‘decorated’ the pasta, she got two glasses out of the cupboard and poured each of them some cold water and placed them on the table.

*time skip to after dinner*

The couple were currently in their bathroom, freshly showered and getting ready for bed. They made their way across the hall into their shared bedroom and both got in bed. Y/N had previously put a glass of water on each bedside table so before getting comfy she had Jude take some painkillers to help his potential hangover in the morning and have some water, while he did that she turned on Netflix on tv and turned on a show they were both obsessed with at the moment. She cuddled up to Jude, she laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arm around his torso, Jude pulled her even more into him and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

“Well done on winning baby, I’m so proud of you” the slightly younger woman whispered, staring up at him, her Y/E/C eyes full of love.

He looked down to her, a smile immediately took over his face. “Thank you my love, I wish you were able to come to the game but I’m just happy to come home to you” he replied, knowing she had work commitments that clashed with the game and made her unable to go to and watch him, but she watched from her phone at work.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there love” She mumbled, sleep slowly taking over her.

“It’s okay darling, I understand. Don’t worry your pretty head.” Jude replied, kissing her forehead “now get some sleep beautiful, I can tell you’re tired” he added, chuckling to himself seeing his girls eyes slowly dropping.

“Goodnight my love, I love you” she whispered, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before cuddling back into him and she finally let sleep take over her.

“I love you too baby” the brown eyed boy replied, letting his own eyes close with his arms wrapped around his favourite girl, the tv softly playing in the background.

[mushroomates]

legolas headcanons:

is, by all accounts, the worlds most awkward elf

most of the fellowship doesn’t even realize how weird he is

thranduil did not socialize his boy well. legolas is not aloof he just has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing.

will walk very slowly with exaggerated movements around hobbits because he thinks they won’t see him otherwise.

the hobbits thinks this is elf custom. frodo theorizes this is because elves want to rest their eyes and ears when they’re at home, so other elves like to announce themselves so no one gets spooked.

this is aided by the fact that legolas loudly announces his presence whenever he enters the room, just incase you missed it.

this conclusion is false. legolas will approach other elves by charging at them, full speed. alternatively, shooting an arrow in their vicinity for a vibe check.

he also likes shooting at people to wake them up and/or scare them

legolas likes that it’s a gentle reminder to his companions that he could kill them at any time and they should be honored that he doesn’t.

aragorn has options about this. legolas tells him that he should be grateful that such a skilled elf is on his side and cares for him. aragorn maintains that if legolas really cared, the elf would stop waking him up with ‘good morning’ shots. he also would like to note that legolas’s loud singing is only slightly better than an arrow flying at you first thing in the morning:.

legolas tries to make friends by staring at them from afar and when they look at him he looks away. like a cat. he will also blink at u as if to say “look! i like you! i’m closing my eyes!!!” again, like a cat.

will bring you small gifts to curry favor, also like a cat. interesting rocks and pretty feathers, samples of dirt, fallen leaves in different shapes and colors, and whatever flowers are near by and catch his eye. gets very upset if you don’t marvel at them for the appropriate amount of time.

will eat bites off of your plate. this is a form of endearment. he’s showing he trusts you and likes you. he’s also showing his inability to cook and hopes you’ll take pity on him by sharing your food.

sometimes will intentionally walk loudly around the camp if he’s bored, angry, or lonely so he can wake aragorn up and they can be awake together :)

likes to sing, loudly, at inappropriate times

no one in the fellowship has seen him piss. some of the hobbits are under the impression that elves don’t pee. aragorn and gandalf do not correct them.

up at the asscrack of dawn. this is annoying, because he’s chipper, looks amazing, and is a tad judgmental that you aren’t as well.

captain obvious as well as worlds most unhelpful elf ever. will point out your mistake, claim to know how to fix it and half the time not offer the solution or his assistance.

cannot do laundry. he doesn’t even get dirty enough to consider it, and with how little people in middle earth wash their clothes anyway, none of his clothes have been cleaned for easily centuries.

is very confused by dogs. doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to do with them. they’re always so happy and want (physical???) attention and,, it’s not a one and done thing either. you’re supposed to keep petting them? after you already pet them.

they’re like wolves, but smaller and maybe stupider. they also stink. boromir has explained to him many times that dogs are man’s best friend and are beautiful creatures. this worries legolas, because that means either dogs are more evolved than they let on,, or men are significantly further behind than elves than he first thought..

can not play the harp. is upset by this fact.

never really bothered to learn how to harp, either.

he believes he should be able to play the harp regardless because the harp is just a big bow with many strings. this is, in fact, false.

will eat anything. mushrooms and questionable berries mean nothing to him.

this upsets aragorn as he believes legolas is setting a bad example for the hobbits, dispite hobbits having the most durable digestive systems. (note: elves can eat almost anything, but hobbits have the stomach of a labrador retriever. they are always hungry, can can eat anything, even what they’re not supposed to)

DID set a bad example for boromir, who mistakingly ate some of the berries legolas offered him and had the shits for weeks.

is like 90% sure who frodo is. it’s definitely one of the hobbits. it’s probably not the one with the pony.

is faceblind. he can’t recognize other people’s faces for the life of him. if you asked him to pick out aragorn in a sea of humans, he’d panic dispite knowing the man for 50+ years.

this also goes for all races, including dwarves. gimli thought he might just be racist and covering his ass, but then watched him stall for like 30 minutes making small talk with some lorien elves and try (and fail) to pick celeborn out of the crowd.

does know what galadriel and thranduil look like. has a hard time pointing out elrond.

will forget your name almost immediately after you tell him. guys like 3k old and has met a lot of people give him a break

to be fair he does know who you are and what you sound/look like. defining features like voice and hair help a lot. it’s just if you were to give him a book of cropped faces and ask him to name, just one,,, he’d panic and throw it at you.

feels robbed of the golden ages,, resents the fact that the world he knows is drastically different that the world he could have been. wishes there were more elves his age and just more elves in general.

that being said he wouldn’t change this for anything as the world he’s in gave him the friends he’s made and the adventure of a life time :)

he doesn’t wash his hands. like ever or at all.

[titanic-angel]

нoвιe вrown х gn!reader

⁎︎✰︎—『ѕтιcĸ n' poĸe』︎—︎✰︎⁎︎

ѕynopѕιѕ: нoвιe gιveѕ yoυ yoυr ғιrѕт тaттoo.

warnιngѕ: nυdιтy (semi-sexual), ѕwearιng

noтeѕ: ιтѕ вeen ιn мy нead ғorever, pleaѕe enjoy ❤︎

▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎▁︎

“Ow- shit HOBS!”

You eyebrow stuck together, nails digging into the cream sheets. You leaned you head back, closing your eyes as you pushed into the pillows that propped you head up.

You heard Hobie scoff, eyes still trained on the skin below your belly button. “Yer such a baby.”

You moved your head up, glaring at the menace who hovered over you. One gloved hand steadied your hip, the other holding a needle embedded into your skin. Even through the cheap plastic, his warmth made your skin tingle. His classic shit-eating grin crinkled his cheeks, eyes still trained on your stomach, well aware you were staring him down.

His wicks were pulled back, the screen of his phone making his piercings shimmer. His eyebrows were a little furrowed- focused on the design. Aside from his tensed face, his body was relaxed and calm, almost drowsy.

He was so fucking pretty.

“What’s wit’ th’ starin doll.”

You raised your eyebrows, suddenly the world around you becoming a lot more focused. “Hm? I wasn’t staring.”

Hobie met your eyes for the first time in 30 minutes, only for them to harbor doubt. His grin was gentler now, and the stillness of the room soon became incredibly loud.

He shrugged, looking back at your stomach. “Whateva you say.”

Another shot of pain went up your spine and you gasped, clamping your lips shut. Hobie chuckled below you. “So sensitive.”

“This is my first time- Hobs.” You hissed through your clenched teeth.

He met your gaze again, this time his classic suggestive grin spreading on his face like butter.

You rolled your eyes. “Not like that- you perv.”

“Oi, I didn’t say nothin’.”

You leaned your head back, feeling the beads of sweat collect under your neck. Was it stupid to get your first tattoo on your stomach- on the pelvis no less? Maybe. But hey- it sure as hell looked cool. However, now that you’re laying on the bed with sore muscles from tensing them this whole session, you began to regret your decision.

Hobie moved his hands up to you waist, then slid down back to your hip. “Try and relax- yeah? I’m almost done.”

You sighed harshly, partly frustrated with yourself, but also with Hobs.

Your mind floated to the conversation you had a couple days ago, laying on his bed, your clothes scattered across his flat.

▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎

You heard the familiar rustling of his pants being put on, the click of the belt and the snap of his boots.

You scrolled through your phone, eyes half lidded in drowse, the smell of incense wafted between the two of you. You couldn’t be bothered to put your clothes on, his sheets feeling much too soft.

Hobie, despite his rough and ragged persona, had one of the comfiest flats you’d been in. Layered with cotton and satin chairs and sofas, most likely stolen. His bed, however, was the epitome of it all.

Softest sheets that were never too hot and never too cold, and a comforter that smelled exactly like him. Pillows with patterns that did not compliment each other well, but extremely comfortable none the less.

Your eyes drifted to his back. Small little drawings- some silly and others with more meaning- scattered across his toned muscle.

You were not in the slightest embarrassed about staring at your boyfriend (unless he caught you), which meant you knew nearly every detail about his body. But, sometimes things surprised you. This time, it was his tattoos.

His shirt slipped over them, a disappointed sigh escaping your lips.

He turned to you, smirking, “I can take it back off if yer really that desperate.”

Your eyebrows knitted in protest- nose wrinkling in the way that he liked. “I’ll pass- but uhm..”

He sat on the bed, facing you with lidded eyes.

“Yeah?”

“I think I want a tattoo.”

His eyes widened with surprise. “Eh? Since when?”

“Since now.”

He blinked, his mouth twisting into a grin. The idea excited him- he always thought you’d look hot with ink. Maybe it was a little selfish to indulge in his fantasies, but hey- you offered first.

“I’m pr’tty good them, y’know. All it takes is a stick n’ a poke.” You laughed, leaning your head on your palm.

“You know what? Why not.”

He leaned forward, placing a giddy kiss on your lips. You savored the taste of him- musky and smokey. He backed away, eyes drifting from your lips to your body.

“Where do ya’ want it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know- you pick.”

He raised a brow at you, a challenge.

“Ya’ sure?

You nodded, smiling sweetly at him. He smiled back, less sweetly. Something in your head told you that maybe you should’ve picked, but the cogs in his head were already turning. It was too late to change your mind.

He flipped you over, your bear body now completely exposed. However, there wasn’t anything sexual about the way his eyes trailed down your body. As he looked for a spot he liked, you smiled up at him, admiring how cute he was when he was focused. He didn’t like it when you called him that- didn’t match his rough and rumble, but who was gonna stop you from thinking it?

He smirked, before placing a warm hand below your belly button.

“Here.”

You sat up on your elbows, sending him a skeptical look. “You really want my first tattoo to be above my junk?”

He looked back at you, chuckling at your use of ‘junk’. “Why not.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You just think it’ll be sexy, don’t you.”

He shrugged. “Nothin’ wrong with sexy, darlin. But no- I’d never.”

You raised your eyebrow at him, before groaning and sitting up to meet him in the middle. You could feel his breath against yours, eyes locked.

On one hand, you were terrified of putting something so permanent on your body. But on the other, Hobie was right. It did kinda make you feel like a badass.

“Alright- fine. But I get to pick the design.”

“Deal.”

You sealed the promise with a kiss. He leaned you back into the pillows, and you laughed into his mouth, weak hands pushing him back. “Hobs we have to-“

“Shhhh. Jus’ lemme kiss you.”

▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎▔︎

“Done.”

Hobie’s voice broke you from your thoughts. In excitement you sat up, but quickly laid back down when and ache prickled at your abdomen.

He laughed above you, setting the tools on your makeshift tray (a kitchen plate) and crawled up to meet your mouth.

“You’re gonna have to wait a minute darlin.”

You glared at him. “You suck.”

He faked gasped, laughter in his eyes as he leaned in closer. “How could you say that to yer devoted artist!”

You rolled your eyes. “I deeply apologize, from the bottom of my heart.” You milked your apology, your own shit-eating grin spreading across your face.

He smiled down at you. “Yer funny.”

“I know.”

He kissed you, and suddenly the pain didn’t feel as bad anymore. His course hands drifted up your hips, your waist, your ribs, then to your-

You grabbed his hands, pulling away from the kiss and gave him a knowing look. “You said I have to wait- so you do too.

He groaned, kissing your cheek and moving down to your neck. “Consider ‘t aftercare?”

You laughed, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. “No. It’s prolly gonna mess up your masterpiece anyway.”

He flopped beside you, nearly pouting. You giggled, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling the pain starting to subside.

“Hey darlin?”

“Yes Hobie?”

“Yer…uh. You were right- about me pickin’ th’ spot cus it looked sexy.”

You slapped his chest and he laughed, taking your hand in his. He turned to you, brown eyes sparkling with mischief and something he doesn’t care to admit.

“It also looks pretty badass.”

“Hobie that’s like- the same thing in your book.”

He laughed. “Yeah,” his hand interlocked with yours, eyes moving to the ceiling.

“I guess yer right.”

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hope you enjoyed ❤︎

[onlybeeewrites]

Meadow's Lullaby

Requests: Yes!

Pairing: Sejanus Plinth x fem!reader, onesided Coriolanus x reader, platonic Lucy Gray x reader

Warnings: none, this is a fluffy one....for now :)

Word count: 1.3K

The Valley Song Series: Part 1 <- -> Part 3

Author's Note: You guys are literally so amazing??? Thank you so much for showing your love for The Valley Song. I came up with this idea and direction so hopefully you all enjoy it. Thank you, lovies! Also once again, because I love Maiah Wynne, the music below is what the reader plays :)) Also this was just so much fun to write

You were a lot shyer than Lucy Gray. That was one of the first things that came to Coriolanus' mind as he watched Lucy Gray pull you over as the performance ended for the night. Maude Ivory had taken your old wooden guitar from you as the rest of the Covey put their instruments away and gathered all the donations from around the Hob.

Your shy and bashful nature had intrigued Coriolanus greatly, but it had with Sejanus as well. He could tell so as his...friend's face got more pink in his cheeks as you neared. A curiosity in his eyes as you neared.

"Y/N, It is finally time for you to meet my boy, Coriolanus Snow. And this is his fine friend, Sejanus," Lucy Gray had introduced them. Her boy, he thought to himself with great distaste. Coriolanus did not belong to anyone, and his little songbird counted. He was not one to be owned. He owned others.

"Y/N here is my older cousin. Just by a year though so it ain't nothing fancy." Lucy Gray said with a laugh, causing you to shyly roll your eyes at your cousin's words. It was clear this wasn't the first time this was brought up in any sort of conversation.

"A pleasure to meet you, Y/N" Coriolanus said with a charming smile and a nod as Lucy Gray let go of her cousin's hand and moved to step beside Coryo, her arm going around his waist.

You gave him a bit of a shy smile as you gave him a nod, "The pleasure is all mine, Coriolanus. I cannot thank you enough for bringing my cousin back to us. I owe you," you chuckled. And even your chuckle was like soft wind chimes; soft.

Sejanus could not help but look to you in some sort of admiration. Even by the look in your eyes, you were gentle kind, and compassionate. Even after all you had been through with losing your family, singing for your dinners, almost losing your cousin...you were still kind. Almost like him.

Your eyes moved to look at him and you could feel your face heating up. He was beautiful. Almost too beautiful, especially to be somewhere like here in District Twelve. You couldn't help but wonder what he had done to be sent there.

"Pleasure to meet you Sejanus.." You say after a moment of almost staring at each other, realizing the silence may have gone on for a little bit too long. In the corner of your eye, you see your cousin smirking at you, glancing up at Coryo as if she had planned this sort of meeting all along.

"Trust me....the pleasure is all mine. You were uh...you were amazing up there by the way," Sejanus said nervously, though the smile stayed on his face.

The bashful smile returned to your lips at his almost too-kind words. "Why thank you. I don't sing on my own very often so I'm pleased you enjoyed it,"

Lucy Gray grinned before remembering. "Oh! I almost forgot. The Covey, we're all making a trip out tomorrow. You both should join us!" she offered.

Coriolanus and Sejanus both shared a look. They both had nothing else to do. So after a moment of sharing a look, Coriolanus smiled slightly and nodded, "We'd love to,"

Lucy Gray almost squealed with excitement, "Oh perfect. You boys are going to love it. Coryo, come by our house by mornin', alright? We'll see you both tomorrow," she said with a grin, taking your hand and rushing back towards the rest of the covey.

You turned and gave them both one last wave and smile before being pulled backstage, leaving the two boys in almost awe: Sejanus being more obvious.

"I can't wait for tomorrow," Sejanus sighed.

When tomorrow finally came, the two boys made it to the small Covey home on the edge of the Seam. And by an hour after sunrise, you all started the hike up to the lake. You lingered behind talking with Barb Azure, listening to Maude Ivory singing and Lucy speaking with Coryo. Halfway through you lingered back, falling back in step with Sejanus.

After hours of hiking, you all made it to the lake and set your things down. The heat was seemingly unbearable, and many of the covey found their way to the lake, aching to cool off their skin with the cold water.

You decided to join them later. Moving to settle under one of the nearby trees, you fixed your old dress before pulling your guitar onto your lap. Your delicate fingers started to string along to the song that Lucy Gray would sing whenever anyone had any nightmares.

As you played you failed to see Sejanus, who was about to join the others in the water before spotting you on your own. He didn't think twice before he made his way over to you, taking a seat a little next to you.

You looked up in surprise, pausing the strumming of the delicate cords. "Sejanus. Sorry, I didn't hear you coming," you add with a smile, flattered and almost happy that out of everything, he wanted to come and sit with you.

"Well I saw you were on your own, figured you could use some company," he used as an excuse, feeling his face warm; though with the heat of the day, it was hard to tell the difference. "What were you playing? I sounded pretty," he then asked.

"Oh, it was just some music I wrote for one of Lucy Gray's songs. She calls it Deep in the Meadow. She usually sings it when Maude Ivory has a nightmare or trouble sleeping. I figured I could add some music to help," you explain, looking at him, flushing as you realize that he never once had taken his eyes off you.

And how beautiful his eyes were. You could see the kindness and admiration, they were captivating and warm. And it all caused a fluttering within your stomach.

"You wrote that all yourself?" He asked in amazement, and as you nodded he gave a small whistle, "That is incredible....could you play something else you wrote?" he asked hopefully before he quickly added in what seemed to be panic, "Of course, you don't have to if you don't want to, I just...your playing is beautiful.."

His words made you grow flustered, but you gave out a small laugh. Something about him allowed you to feel comfortable where you had never felt comfortable before. There were very few people outside the covey that you would do this with, Sejanus may have just been the quickest that you allowed.

"No...no, I don't mind," you quickly reassured him before playing another song you had written, leaving the capital boy silent as he admired the music you had created.

As you both were having your moment, playing him your music, neither of you was aware of the pale eyes that were watching from the water. Coriolanus felt his jaw clench at the sight of them, how Sejanus was able to chat you up about whatever it was.

What were you both talking about? He hated that he didn't know, that he wasn't in the loop, that he couldn't control whatever it was that came from Sejanus' mouth.

Lucy Gray gently climbing onto his back, wrapping her arms around him to keep afloat snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I think they'd make a mighty fine couple, wouldn't you say?" she asked, rather pleased with her match-making skills. Coriolanus on the other hand, wasn't as pleased. But regardless he nodded.

"Hm. She seems a fine match for Sejanus." A fine match was the nicest thing he could come up with as he stared at the few figures underneath the tree.

A fine match with Sejanus would be enough for you now, but he wondered how fine it would be when trouble would eventually find its way back around.

[valeriianz]

Summary: Part 2 of my Hard of Hearing!Dream. Part 1 here! Dream struggles with his new disability and Hob tries to help... along with Dream's new friend, Jessamy.

Square/Prompt: A1 - Why Did You Do It?

Rating: T

Ship(s): Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: None

Additional Tags: human AU, deaf!Dream, angst, happy ending, established relationship

Fill for @dreamlingbingo! (thank you @mallory-x for the read through!)

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

When Dream turned 30, he celebrated it in a crowded bar that doubled as an art gallery, close to his apartment. It was his favorite bar, because it was an eclectic gallery first, with a bar open for events. Luckily, there was a local exhibit on the night of Dream’s birthday and he knew it would be the perfect place to celebrate. This way, he could appease his friends who wanted to go out and drink and celebrate, and Dream could stare at art and make a quick escape if need be. It gave a chance for everyone to focus on anything else but him after the initial round of shots. 

Hob never took his focus off Dream, though. Even when they would float away to opposite sides of the room, Dream would turn his head and find Hob staring at him, smiling at being caught before turning his attention back to the person he was in conversation with.

At that point, it had been two and a half years since Dream had told Hob about his diagnosis… that he would go permanently deaf. In that time, he did indeed completely lose his hearing in his left ear, but his right was still working pretty well. He had just gotten used to tilting his head slightly to the left so people would understand to talk directly into his good ear.

And Hob was still here. Patient, sweet, loving Hob. Who Dream secretly had a crush on probably since they were first introduced. They’d moved in together last year, and while there were some bumps in the road, complications that arose with moving in with a lover, Dream was surprised to find that he was… happy.

He couldn’t stand it, sometimes, how happy Hob made him. Even his friends had noticed how he smiled more, seemed to have a more positive outlook on life and even on his disability. And it felt natural, like Hob just brought out all the good traits about Dream, like they had been lying dormant and just needed the confidence, the reassurance that he was allowed to feel this way. This happy.

And then, 45 days after Dream’s birthday party, he woke up to Hob shaking him awake, because he was sleeping through his alarm that was apparently blasting through his phone.

But Dream couldn’t hear him. Or the alarm. 

He watched with horrifying realization, as Hob’s lips moved, hovering over him, but no words came out. 

So much for five years. 

Hob had clocked Dream’s blank stare relatively quick, his lips shaping the letters of Dream’s name with a hand on his face, Hob’s brows pinched up and–

Dream cried. 

He felt foolish for it. He knew this would happen eventually. He just thought he’d have more time. 

Dream speaks with his audiologist the next day, with Hob by his side. Dream had wondered about hearing aids while he still had a modicum of hearing, but had been hesitant. His insurance barely covered them and, while hearing aids may have helped in the past, after several tests, his audiologist confirmed with Dream that now, they wouldn’t even be able to pick up background noise. They wouldn’t help at all.

Dream and Hob had left the office with defeat hanging heavy in the air. Mostly from Dream. 

He’s not proud of the person he had been in the week following his permanent hearing loss.

But in time (and therapy), Dream was able to move on. And it really wasn’t so bad, once Dream accepted that this was his life now.

If he closes his eyes, he thinks he can still hear Hob’s voice, especially with his lips pressed against his throat, behind his ear, murmuring sweetness into his skin and sending vibrations into his skull. It’s one of the most calming things Dream has ever experienced; laying in bed with Hob, in the absolute darkness and absolute silence, his remaining senses heightened, it’s both relaxing and unexpectedly erotic. To feel Hob completely surrounding him, grounding Dream, warm and solid and safe, it lights Dream up from the inside and reassures him that everything would be okay.

And in time, Dream comes to appreciate the silence. It’s nice, it’s peaceful. Living in a large city, with constant chatter, cars honking and sirens blazing, used to be a sensory nightmare; that creeping, prickling feeling of overstimulation has vanished and now it’s just… nothingness. 

It was scary at first, Dream would be a fool to not admit it; watching the world continue around him, people living their lives, living his own life, all in absolute silence. Not being able to hear the beep of the microwave, indicating when his food was done, or water coming out of the faucet while he washed dishes, or the sizzle of oil in a pan while cooking… little things that Dream had never really perceived whilst hearing them every day. All of that sound just– gone. Like hitting the mute button on a movie.

Dream tries to convince himself that he doesn’t miss the mundane noises, he could barely hear them anyway… but he often feels lost without them. So learning to welcome the quiet was the only way Dream could stay sane.

Though going deaf after decades of being able to hear (albeit poorly) and speak gave Dream the advantage of continuing to communicate in spoken English. He still has an inner voice, can still read lips very well, and so the communication gap with his friends and even strangers isn’t as wide as Dream had feared.

It makes learning sign language difficult. Dream at first did not take the lessons very seriously, especially with Hob being the only person to practice with, in those early days. Hob did help, though; he fumbles and signs broken ASL and Dream fumbles back. But it had been so easy to fall back on the habit of using his voice. But as months turn into a full year, Dream learns by trial and error that he realistically can’t continue traversing through a hearing world without sign language.

The hardest challenge he’d run into, for example… Dream never thought he’d need to prove his deafness.

Of course people get confused when he can speak perfect English, out in public spaces like a cafe or a bookshop, only to then turn around and seemingly ignore everyone around him. It is a strange experience, for Dream, to go around communicating as usual, speaking when he can’t even hear his own voice and reading lips. But he can’t be constantly on the lookout for anybody trying to get his attention. Watching belatedly as someone he had been exchanging dialogue with, roll their eyes and walk away in a huff. Dream truthfully has no idea how he might come off to a complete stranger who can’t realize that he’s deaf. Rude, perhaps. Or uncaring.

It’s enough to convince Dream to get fake hearing aids… he feels ridiculous wearing them, like he’s giving in to a social construct that only exists in his own head. But, annoyingly, while wearing them, the way people communicate and treat him improves exponentially. 

Funny, that.

Hob, of course, notices.

“When did you get these?” He touches the little device in Dream’s ear, his fingers turning into a caress. “I thought aids didn’t work for you?”

Hob speaks while he signs, they both do, to help make the hand motions stick. Though Hob often slips up and signs exact English, not proper American Sign Language, which he’s doing now. It doesn’t help in the learning process, but it’s a start, and Dream has no leg to stand on when it comes to corrections.

Dream swipes his index finger across his nose.

“Fake.”

Dream offers no more explanation, turning a page in the book he’s reading. They’re sitting on the couch, Hob properly facing the TV, and Dream lounging sideways, his legs draped over Hob’s lap.

Hob taps the edge of Dream’s book, getting his attention once more.

“You’d rather put a sign on you that announces to the world you're deaf?”

Dream sighs, knocking his head back.

“I know I shouldn’t have to…” Dream starts, his fingers fumbling, a new sign of nervousness he never thought he’d had before. “But it might make things easier.”

“Things?” Hob finger spells, his hands coming down, palms up, in a sign of confusion.

Dream moves a hand to his mouth.

“Communication,” and then to his ear, “understanding.”

Hob’s brows furrow and Dream slowly looks back to his book.

Dream wonders if they’re thinking the same thing. Remembering how difficult it became, living together, after Dream lost his hearing permanently. Hob would forget that Dream couldn’t hear, which was frustrating enough, but the slip-ups were near constant in the beginning. 

They’d get into arguments over it, a flame that Dream wasn’t proud to admit he’d always fanned. He hated that his hackles were constantly rising, always on the offensive, like Dream was expecting Hob to take the bait and fight back. That would, of course, spiral into meaningless fights over something stupid like leaving the laundry in the dryer for too long, or forgetting to pick up a particular ingredient they needed for dinner at the grocery store.

Dream was ashamed to admit he didn’t help in the situations, often coping out by just– not looking at Hob so he couldn’t see his lips moving or his awkward signing. He’d turn around and stomp away and Hob would be left to chase after him, hand on his shoulder, forcing him to turn around so they could communicate.

It got easier… Hob was so patient with Dream. He never got so angry he would give up. He always apologized, even when Dream was just being dramatic. 

Hob knows by now that Dream would never take the easy route. And sure enough, Dream ditches the fake hearing aids. With them on, people started treating him with gloves on, or stare at him nervously, wondering how to approach. It’s frustrating and annoying– how Dream can’t seem to find a middle ground.

It takes unloading to his new deaf friends about Hob; seeking advice for how to temper these unexpected feelings of disappointment and changes in Dream himself… they never used to fight, before Dream lost his hearing. This is unknown territory for the both of them. 

Dream had discovered the community in his city, for deaf people. He’d found a meetup online, after his therapist suggested looking into attending the weekly meetups.

As always, Dream was at first skeptical. His sign language was still spotty at best, and he wasn’t a social guy even when he could hear so. He wasn’t hopeful.

Luckily the deaf community in his city is more than accepting of him, patient when he slips and signs exact English. And when Dream is done airing out his grievances, they encourage patience with Hob. That having a hearing partner is always going to be a struggle, but Hob is clearly coming from a place of compassion and wants to learn. That’s more than can be said for most people. 

Dream feels foolish, all the sudden, for his actions against Hob, looking sideways at Jessamy. She was one of the founders of these d/Deaf meetings, and they clicked immediately. Unlike most of their peers in the group, she too had been born hearing and then lost it due to illness. Her and Dream were a lot alike, though she was older and had been wading through this new world for over two decades. She was fluent in ASL, and didn’t even speak while communicating.

“It’s considered rude to speak here, during these meetups,” she had explained during Dream’s first time with the group. 

Jessamy becomes something like a confidant for Dream. She too has a hearing partner, Matthew. The amount she and Dream have in common is almost frightening. But in time Dream discovers it’s nice… to be seen. To be understood. She helps Dream comprehend the beauty of the silence even more. And that they can still attend hearing events just as before. 

So with her encouragement, a few months down the line, Dream and Hob join her and Matthew at a music festival. Jessamy excitedly points out interpreters several of the bands have on stage, and Dream feels a bit of relief. He can also feel the vibrations all around him from the loud speakers, though it’s not as pronounced as they would be in a venue with wooden floors; the earth beneath their feet grounds the pulsating bass lines to something dull and unrecognizable.

Dream’s not quite fluent enough in ASL to understand every word the interpreters use, especially at the speed they’re going in to keep up with the song, but he gets the gist. And he has to admit it’s… fun, doing this. He hadn’t been to a concert or music festival in almost five years, and spending it with both Hob and his new friends is nice. It’s easy to stay within their safe space and not feel pressured to speak with strangers or awkwardly ignore them; everyone here minds their own business and in time, Dream loosens up.

After finding available, good seats for the next band they’d all agreed on, Hob and Dream set out to the nearest vendor to grab drinks and snacks for the four of them, while Jessamy and Matthew hold down the fort, so to speak.

While standing in line, Hob asks if Dream is enjoying himself. And, surprisingly, Dream is. He says as much with a smile and taking a playful nudge from Hob.

As the line shrinks and they come closer to the counter, Dream’s gaze moves from the short menu taped to the window to the man taking orders. His lips move sluggishly and hesitantly, speaking with an accent that makes it difficult for Dream to parse. But it doesn’t phase him, what everyone wants is on the menu and the transaction should be simple.

Now, Hob could just place the order for him– for all of them, but Dream had been determined, lately, to converse in transactions like this himself. It was good practice not only for Dream, but also whoever was taking his order as well. To learn patience and practice his communication skills. It was a little nerve wracking, but for the most part it was easy. If a cashier or barista or medical professional had trouble exchanging words with Dream, well, that’s what he carried a pen and pocketbook around for.

The person in front of them moves to the pickup counter and Dream sees the man behind the counter call out what must be a, “Next!” but the way his lips move, it looks more like, “Nect!”

Dream swallows and signs as he speaks, to– hopefully– indicate how this would potentially be a one-sided conversation.

“Two orders of fries, one mac and cheese, three shots of Bacardi, one shot of vodka, and a lemonade, please.”

The man barely looks at Dream while he types the order into an iPad. Dream nods, mostly to himself, and looks down as he reaches into his back pocket to grab his wallet.

When he looks back up, the man is in the middle of saying something to him.

Dream’s brows wrinkle.

“Can you repeat that? I can’t hear you.”

After he speaks and signs, Dream offers up his card, assuming the man just told him the total.

But the man visibly sighs and leans forward a bit, his mouth opening widely.

Dream focuses but only manages to make out the words “fries,” “double,” and “which do you want?”

“Um…” Dream licks his bottom lip. “One more time? Slowly, please.”

With a truly agitated face now, the man moves his lips again, but as Dream studies them, hoping to fill in the words he missed, instead new words are added and Dream finds himself stumped.

“Fries, yes. And singles, for the shots,” he guesses.

The man types something into his iPad but looks again at Dream with a growing look of irritation in his gaze. Dream looks behind him and sees a line of customers, before facing the man again, once again catching him in mid speech.

“Hold on,” Dream grumbles, settling the card down and digging through his pocket for the pen and paper. “Clearly I am deaf and raising your voice is not helping–”

Dream nearly jumps as Hob steps up suddenly to the counter, almost getting in front of Dream.

They exchange a few words before finally Hob nods and hands the guy his own card.

Dream stands silent, his pocket notebook in his hand and blinking slowly at Hob, who gives him a sheepish smile over his shoulder before nodding again to the man and taking both their cards back as well as the receipt.

They walk to the pickup counter without exchanging a word, meanwhile something begins to burn the back of Dream’s neck, prickling down his arms and coiling in his stomach.

Dream tugs on Hob’s arm as they settle next to the mobile vendor. 

“What just happened?” He doesn’t speak. Dream can’t find his voice right now.

Hob rubs the back of his neck, his gaze focused on something behind Dream.

“No french fries,” he signs without confidence. “Curly fries only.”

Dream blinks. The uncomfortable feeling in his gut tightening.

“Did you just order for me?”

Hob’s shoulders deflate, nodding.

Dream gapes like a fish for a few seconds, his eyes darting from Hob to the man that just took their order, and back.

“I don’t want curly fries. I hate curly fries. We could have gone to another vendor. You didn’t have to–”

Dream cuts himself off, balling his hands into fists and taking a long breath, closing his eyes, shaking his head.

Hob always did this. 

It took a while for Dream to notice, how if they were together, Hob would finish a conversation for Dream. Would speed an uncomfortable situation along with an interjection or provide unnecessary context with a stranger “He’s deaf, sorry…” without consenting with Dream first. 

When Dream realized Hob was doing this, he would go quiet, unsure whether or not to stop him or correct him in some way. Dream never knew exactly what to say. Did Hob think Dream was incapable of handling tricky conversations himself? Did he think Dream was a hassle?

When Dream opens his eyes Hob’s hands are out, placating, his eyes apologetic.

“Why do you do that?”

Hob blinks. “What?”

Dream’s heart rate is steadily rising, his fingers shaking slightly. 

“Make my decisions for me.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” Hob starts, his own signing gone fumbly. “I thought I was helping.”

“Yes. That’s the problem…” Dream starts, finally speaking again and letting his hands fall to his sides, his brain struggling to interpret correctly.

“What do you mean?” Hob asks.

“You don’t need to rush me out of an uncomfortable situation,” Dream starts again, his hands gesticulating uselessly. “If I’m communicating with someone whom I can’t understand, we can figure it out. They will learn. They need to learn.”

Judging by the way Hob is nervously looking around, Dream’s volume is surely rising. But he finds he doesn’t care.

“I’m not this thing you need to handle with gloves. Let me see a problem through until the end. No matter how long it takes.”

Dream is breathing heavily, he realizes, sucking in a gulp of air.

“Of course not.” Hob finally speaks, forgetting to sign. “I'm sorry.”

Hob’s eyes are welling up with tears and it somehow makes Dream more agitated, more words stumbling from his mouth without his permission.

“Then stop treating me like a burden!”

Dream turns and walks away. 

It’s foolish, and childish. And as Dream stomps away, his own vision becoming blurred with tears, he knows it’s not just this moment that’s made him snap. It’s the culmination of events from the past year of being fully disabled. He hates that he can’t hear. He hates this adjustment period. He wishes he’d been born deaf so at least this hurdle, this life change wouldn’t feel so mountainous. 

Dream wipes his eyes shamefully as his pace picks up to a run, pushing past people blindly. Regret screams in his bones with every step he makes, with every inch he puts between Hob and him. His chest aches with the urge to turn around and apologize, but he shouldn’t have to. He shouldn’t! 

Dream’s shoes clumsily connect with the dirt underneath him, his face becoming hot and, as he rounds the corner of an unoccupied stall, Dream collapses to the ground and allows the tears he’d been fighting back to fall freely, a sob choking in his throat.

He grips his hair as he cries, his face stuck between his knees. The past year flashes before Dream’s eyes, all of the hardships, the doctors’ visits, the fights with Hob. He didn’t deserve Dream. All of his kindness and patience and for what? For Dream to snap on a dime and expect too much out of him all at once? 

Dream groans loudly, agitated at himself for seeing the problem; him, and unsure how to change. He knows he has a right to his feelings, but communicating them was so difficult. He’s becoming impatient with himself, with his slow learning curve, with Hob’s complacency to stay in their safe little bubble and treat Dream like this breakable thing. 

Dream couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but his sobs had stifled down to sniffles, and by the time he felt a hand gently land on his shoulder, Dream was doodling shapes in the dirt.

His head snaps up and finds Jessamy staring back at him, her brows creased in worry.

“Hey…” She’s bent over, her hair falling in her face. “What’s wrong?”

Dream ducks his head, shaking it, officially feeling foolish for running away. The regret he’d felt for leaving Hob starts up again and he suddenly feels so scared. At this rate, Hob would break up with him. Surely he was getting sick of Dream’s dramatics, him lashing out.

“Hob and I never fought…” Dream starts, his hands moving sluggishly. “... when I was hearing.”

Jessamy plops on the ground in front of Dream.

“It’s me,” Dream continues. “I’ve become so… sensitive, since going deaf. I feel like, sometimes, Hob treats me like a child. Like he wants to wrap me in bubble wrap. It’s so infuriating– I’m not some helpless thing that can’t figure things out!”

“No, you’re not…” Jessamy starts, reaching a hand out and giving Dream’s knee a shake. 

“It is OK to feel like this. You’ve only been deaf for a year…” her brows come up encouragingly. “The transition is tough, but it will get easier, in time.”

Dream nods solemnly, tracing lines in the dirt again. Jessamy waves her hand to get his attention once more.

“And you’re not alone, you know.” She smiles gently. “You got me and Matty–” she huffs a laugh at the look Dream gives her. “... and the entire gang to support you.”

Dream knew she meant everyone at their d/Deaf meetups and offered her a small smile. She’s right, of course. Despite how withdrawn and antisocial Dream had been in the beginning, even now still creeping out of his shell, the people he’d surrounded himself with had been nothing but kind and accepting and willing to listen and connect in ways Dream hadn’t thought possible. 

“Hob is still around, too,” Jessamy interrupts his thoughts, her brows lifting knowingly. “That man loves you so much; you should see the way he looks at you– it’s disgusting.”

Dream manages to crack a real, genuine smile at that, especially with the way Jessamy is fluttering her eyelashes and putting on a spot-on impression of Hob’s puppy dog eyes. 

He pulls a hand through his hair and looks down again. Images of Hob’s easy smile flashing behind his eyes, his hands caressing Dream’s skin, his strong arms lifting him in a hug, his sweet lips tracing the lines of his jaw and ear, murmuring sweetness that Dream could no longer hear but feel instead. Could plainly see Hob’s devotion and affection in their everyday lives together, how he would always start the coffee in the mornings so Dream would wake up to the smell of it. How Hob would leave the hallway light on during the day so Dream would come home– late from work– and have something to see by. How he always offered to help with dinner prep, chopping veggies or stirring something, often using the excuse to crowd Dream against the counter and kiss Dream silly.

“That man would pull the moon down for you, I hope you know.”

He would, Dream realizes, swallowing thickly. And he would do the same for Hob.

Dream nods, wringing his fingers out as Jessamy continues on.

“Remember, this is a learning experience for him, too.”

Her painted nails move with perfect fluency, always slowly for Dream to understand. And as one thumb comes down from her forehead to meet the thumb on her other hand, Dream nods again, sniffling and wiping his eyes.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her lips curl sweetly, gaze flicking sideways suddenly.

She nudges her head. “Speak of the devil…”

Dream looks too, and finds Hob approaching them.

He curses to himself, wiping his eyes with more urgency and catching the almost giggle that Jessamy makes.

“I’ll leave you two alone?”

Dream takes a steadying inhale, pushes his shoulders back, and makes a weak fist and nods it back and forth.

Jessamy stands just as Hob steps up to them, his eyes guarded yet hopeful. She makes a sign of texting before stepping around Hob with a clap to his shoulder.

Hob watches Jessamy leave before meeting Dream’s gaze again, but says nothing. His eyes never leave Dream as he crouches down and takes a seat next to him, leaning back against the wall.

Dream stares back, studying the lines of Hob’s face, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, which are shiny and puffy, like he’d been sobbing, too.

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers, pushing a fist into his chest.

Hob sighs, his shoulders going with it. He speaks as he signs.

“I’m sorry, too.”

Dream shakes his head. “You’re always the one apologizing for my outbursts–”

“But you were right,” Hob interjects, his eyes pleading. “Dream, can I say something?”

Dream’s heart leaps into his throat, swallowing harshly. He nods.

“You need to tell me…” Hob’s gaze shoots up to the sky, as if searching for the words for his hands to convert. “... the first time, when I do something that makes you uncomfortable. So I can remedy it immediately.”

Dream takes a deep breath as Hob continues, his hands moving slowly but surely. 

“Don’t let bad things fester and build. Talk to me.” His hand comes to his mouth in a motion similar to how Dream explained on the couch months ago. “Communicate. If you don’t correct me in the moment, I’m bound to repeat it.”

He takes Dream’s hands, his thumbs tracing circles over the knuckles. 

“I want…” Hob awkwardly makes the simple motions with his hand still clasped with Dream’s, making him bite back a smile. “... to do this right.”

Dream takes another breath that rattles, his eyes prickling at the corners.

Hob’s eyes have gone watery, too, his smile lopsided.

“OK?”

Dream nods. “OK.”

Hob rises up on his knees just as Dream does, falling into each other. Dream squeezes his arms around Hob’s shoulders, tucking his nose into Hob’s hair and breathing in the scent of him, letting it envelop him and calm him.

Hob’s lips brush the skin behind Dream’s ear, pressing a kiss there, before he feels them move.

I love you.

[saberlight1]

let the light in — lucy gray baird

pairing: lucy gray baird x fem!reader

warnings: slight tbosas spoilers, Y/N usage, established relationship, standard ballad of songbirds and snakes warnings.

authors note: i adore lucy gray so much !! i had to write about her i swear! she is my fav girl rn, and i hope you all enjoy this !

masterlist

After you cheated to help your tribute, Lucy Gray, you were banished to none other than District 12. Well, at first it was said to be 11, but you bribed the Peacekeeper’s with the remaining money you had.

At least in banishment you could attempt to find your songbird.

It was quite upsetting at first when you heard the news, mainly because you had to leave your friends behind, Coriolanus and Sejanus. Your family didn’t care much for you, and you felt the same about them.

But you didn’t have much to loose, so you were content with the decision— even if life in the Districts was very different than what you had previously known.

The first week, you didn’t see a glimpse of the brunette, but you were also extremely busy with settling in. You got a small apartment and a job as a nurse for the Peacekeepers.

It wasn’t until Saturday night when you were invited by some random girl from work to the local pub, known as the Hob. Needing some liquid courage you decided why not and tagged along.

But the second you stepped into those doors and heard that all-too familiar beautiful voice singing, your heart damn near stopped.

You can’t take my charm,

You can’t take my humor.

You can’t take my wealth, ‘cause it’s just a rumor.

Nothing you can take was ever worth keeping,

No, nothing you can take was ever worth keeping.

She sung the same song she did the first time you saw her, the smile on your face only growing as she came into view. You continued your walk throughout the crowd, splitting off with the people you came with to get closer to the girl.

Thinkin’ your so fine, thinkin’ you can have mine.

Thinkin’ your in control, think you’ll change me,

Maybe rearrange me, think again if that’s your goal!

She smiled brightly as she strummed her guitar for the intermission, as when she turned her eyes fell onto you. Shock was obvious on her face, the girl almost stopping the strumming of her guitar by it. The wide eyes she had were replaced with smiling ones as it sank in. You sent a small wave and a nod her way, the girl’s smiling only growing as she ran back up to the mic.

Can’t take my sass, can’t talk my talkin’.

You can kiss my ass, then keep on walkin’.

Nothing you could take was ever worth keepin’.

Oh, nothin’ you could take was ever worth keepin’.

She sang her heart out, her eyes and that smile never leaving your gaze.

Nothing you could take from me is worth dirt.

Take it, ‘cause I’d give it free, it won’t hurt.

Nothing you could take was ever worth keepin’.

No, nothing you could take was ever worth keepin’.

Her and the Covey Band finished the song with cheers and claps erupting from the crowd, more specifically, you.

“Thank you, 12, for another night.” She bowed, nodding before leaving the stage.

You followed her with your gaze, shuffling through the crowd in an attempt to get to her. After a moment of shoving and apologizing, you finally got backstage.

You walked through the corridor. “Lucy Gray?” You called, cautious with your steps. You nearly jumped out of your skin when she jumped on your back.

She let out giggles at your yelp, smiling against your hair as she left kisses on your neck and shoulders. The feeling of her lips on your skin sent tingles down your spine as you remembered the kisses you shared through fences in the moonlight.

“Y/N!” She smiled, jumping off your back to properly hug you. She pulled your into her arms, her head going into the crook of your neck.

“Hi,” You whispered as she pulled back, a smile on her face.

“I thought I’d never see you again, oh, I thought they killed you. That’s what the rumors around here said.” Her southern drawl mixed with her concern pulled a smile out of you.

“I’m okay, they just banished me here.” You explained, you hand coming up to rub her worry lines away with your thumb. She smiled at the action, her hand rubbing your arm lovingly. “Other than a few punches, they treated me well. Bribed ‘em into putting me in twelve, y’know I had to come back for my songbird.” You brushed some hair behind her ear.

She turned a light shade of pink at the nickname you gave to her the first time you met at the train station. “How long are you stayin’?”

“Forever, I guess.” You shrugged. “I don’t really have anyone else to go back to, really. My parents pretty much disobeyed me, and all I had at the Capitol were Coryo and Sejanus.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She grabbed your hand, squeezing.

“It’s alright, bird. I’m with you, that makes it okay.” You teased, smiling.

She stared into your eyes for a moment, her honey eyes flickering down to your lips. Without a word, she turned on her heel, her hand still laced with yours and pulled you into a small room.

You followed with furrowed eyebrows, opening your mouth to say something, but the second the door closed you were pinned to it, her lips on yours.

You moaned against her lips in shock, your hands coming up to cup her cheeks, deepening the kiss. Her hands squeezed your hips as she smiled against your lips. When you pulled back for air, the smile never left her face.

“I missed you, so much.” She whispered. “I can’t wait to introduce you to the Covey, they’re gonna love you.”

Your thumb rubbed against the scar on her cheekbone. “I can’t wait either, bird.”

She left another kiss on your lips before turning on her heel, and running to the corner, rummaging through a chest on the floor.

You walked over to the middle of the room, a love-sick smile on your face as you watched the girl.

She turned back to you with the same rose you gave her all those weeks ago in the train station, a mischievous glint in her eye. When she was eye to eye with you, she presented it with a curtesy.

“Y/N, will you give me the honorable title of your girlfriend?” She asked, a teasing smile on her face with a serious tone in her voice.

“Why, yes, Ms. Baird, I would love to.” You accepted the rose, your cheeks dusted pink as she ran forward to connect your lips again, giggling.

Your heart was full as you held your songbird, love being shared in your kiss. Yeah, you thought, I’m gonna be okay here. 

And in the arms of your lover, nothing could hurt you anymore.

[five-and-dimes]

Thinking about human Dream as a bartender.

He’s quiet, stoic, which strangely adds character to the dramatics of his flair bartending. Each week he comes up with new cocktails- beautiful, colorful creations, each one unique but always delicious. He barely talks but will listen intently to any and every patron’s stories, soaking them up, the happy or sad or ridiculous drunken ramblings. 

Hob becomes a regular, always sitting right in front of the well so he can have a front row seat to every flipped bottle and color changing spirit. He tells the bartender all his best stories, considering it a victory any time he manages to get even the smallest reaction- a quirked eyebrow or a twitch of the lips. It takes ages for him to even learn Dream’s name (Dream listens, he doesn’t share) but he comes to think of him as a friend, even if he’s still working up the courage to ask if they could see each other when Dream’s not working (he knows better than to ask someone on a date while they’re on the clock, he’s not an animal).

(He doesn’t know it, but Dream has started trying to make drinks specifically for this particular regular, hoping to impress him, to make him smile. And if he indulges in the thought of knowing exactly what Hob’s mouth would taste like. Well. He makes drinks for himself, too.)

And Hob tells Dream all sorts of things about his life, but not everything, which makes it incredibly embarrassing when Johanna follows him to the bar one night and very loudly announces “Why the hell do you come here when you own a damn pub?” 

Dream snaps to stare at him, and none of Hob’s stories have gotten anywhere near a reaction like that, and his eyebrows are practically in his hairline, and Hob’s face is on fire, and he wants to strangle Johanna and then walk directly into the ocean. 

But before he can, Dream smirks, tilting his head toward Johanna but keeping his eyes locked on Hob.

“I’m just that good.”

Hob knows he’s staring, but Dream’s never looked at him like that before and maybe he’s not as crazy as he thought, and Johanna is making fake gagging noises, and then Dream is placing a drink in front of him.

Pulling himself together, Hob smiles and takes a sip, “So what’s this one called?”

Dream doesn’t miss a beat, “It’s called ‘Fuck Me Tonight’.”

Hob chokes on the drink.