I got to bind @valeriianz's Bolt in the Blue: a Sandman/Dreamling fic where the Endless are a rock band and Hob is a stage manager that impulsively becomes Dream's tech when they go on tour. The chapter art was done by @five-and-dimes, and many more artists contributed to the mini posters in the back cover pocket.
This bind was a challenge for me, as I had the idea from the start to try and make it evoke Dream's guitar. That led to the raised bands on the spine (painted to look like guitar strings) and painted wood veneer on top of the leather covers.
For the typeset, I wanted to distinguish the singing from the speaking, and so went with both a different font and color. Since the chapters didn't have titles, I called them "Tracks" and the table of contents ended up as the "Setlist" to be part of the theme.
It was a lot of fun (if stressful at times) to experiment with so many different new techniques in one bind. I'm not sure if I'd repeat some of these techniques in the future, but for this, they worked out really well and I'm happy with how they came out.
Morpheus follows Hob's advice.
The outcome turns out to be much better than Hob expected.
Word Count: 2,475
Notes:
I read Advice by @softest-punk and suddenly I wanted that with Dreamling.
So here it is! :)
[Read on AO3]
---
Hob is making pancakes in his kitchen when he feels that now-familiar shift in the air.
"Good morning, Morpheus," Hob says without looking away from transferring a pancake onto a plate. "Wanna join me for breakfast?"
"Yes. Thank you."
Hob turns around and smiles, as he always does whenever he sees Morpheus nowadays. Because he's allowed to. Because he knows he doesn't have to hold back.
"Have a seat," he gestures to Morpheus' usual chair at the dining table and begins setting up plates and mugs for them.
Morpheus wordlessly goes to sit, and it's only then that Hob notices a worried frown creasing his forehead. It's subtle, but Hob knows him well enough by now to see it.
"Is something wrong?" he immediately sits across from Morpheus and pours tea for both of them.
There was a time when Hob wouldn't ask so directly, but ever since Morpheus showed up 8 months ago at The New Inn (yes Hob's been counting), they'd been meeting at least once every week and have both grown more comfortable in talking to each other.
Morpheus wraps his hands around his mug, a thoughtful look on his face.
Hob waits patiently, wondering if it's some political problem involving the Dreaming.
"I need your help."
"Of course, anything," Hob says immediately, because it's true. Although he does hope it's not about Dreaming politics. Not that he wouldn't still try if it is.
Morpheus' throat bobs subtly as he swallows. Hob tries not to stare too long.
"What must I do… if I wish to declare romantic feelings to someone?" Morpheus meets his eyes.
Hob just looks at him, willing himself to maintain a straight face and trying to remember how to breathe.
Damn it. It should have just been Dreaming politics.
Hob clears his throat and does his best impression of a relaxed posture, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it depends on who it is. Is it some… deity? Fairy?" He doesn't really know the scope of the creatures that Morpheus interacts with, but it must be someone pretty remarkable to catch Morpheus' attention like that.
Morpheus tilts his head slightly to the side. "Must my actions be different depending on the species?"
Hob scratches the back of his neck. He's never had to give love advice to immortal deities before. "I suppose not, as long as you know what they like. That's a good place to start, bring them a gift that they'd like. A… box of pastries or… the heart of a star. I don't know the culture of whoever you're planning to court," he says lightly.
Morpheus gives him a small smile. "They deserve more than the heart of a star. But you might be right that I should start with something smaller. I do not wish to scare them off," he adds quietly.
Hob wants to reach out, to touch Morpheus' hand and tell him that whoever that deity is, they're very lucky and they better realise that or Hob's going to have words with them.
He extends a hand and places it on the table, halfway between them. "Hey, it'll be okay. You've had relationships before, right? How do you usually start courting?"
Morpheus' expression turns into distaste, like he had just tasted something unpleasant. "All those relationships have ended badly. For this one, I would prefer… that it not end at all." His cheekbones turn a light shade of pink. He's sitting up straight in his chair but his eyes are cast down on his mug.
Hob swallows, relieved that at least Morpheus isn't looking at whatever heartbroken facial expression he must be making now.
Morpheus seems properly in love, then. Would Hob still get to see him as often? Would Morpheus bring his new girlfriend to their meetings now?
Hob slowly takes a breath and releases it. He takes a sip of tea in an attempt to calm himself. His friend needs his support right now; he can spiral like a teenager later.
"Bring them a gift and tell them how you feel. You're the bloody Prince of Stories, I'm sure you can figure out the words," Hob manages a smile.
Morpheus huffs out a chuckle and his shoulders relax a bit. "Very well. A gift it is. And the most sincere words I can muster."
"There you go. Let me know how it goes," Hob adds in a casual tone. If Morpheus is about to have a new queen or something and Hob would have to go through the undoubtedly painful experience of attending their wedding, he'd like to be warned first.
Morpheus meets his gaze and smiles. "I assure you, you will be the first to know."
Hob doesn't know whether it would be worse to comfort a heartbroken Morpheus or congratulate him on a new relationship. He'll deal with it when the time comes.
"Right, then. Pancakes?"
—
It's Friday night and Hob is hunched over at his dining table, staring into the glow of the laptop screen as he reads and marks essays one after the other. For possibly the first time this term, he's actually ahead of his work schedule. He usually found himself swamped with papers to grade and staying up well past midnight, but now he's almost done and it's barely 11 PM.
Hob's actually afraid he would run out of papers to mark.
He had read each one slowly, carefully, wanting to give the works his proper attention and his students fair grades. He even gave more detailed feedback than he normally would. He had brought his laptop to the dining table so he could continue working while eating, not wanting to give his mind any time to be idle.
Still, in the seconds between closing one file and opening the next, he inevitably goes back to thinking that he hasn't seen Morpheus in more than a week. Nine days to be exact.
Hob opens the next file, reads the title multiple times before he understands the words.
It's not unusual for Morpheus to skip a week of their meetings, especially when he had some urgent business to attend to and because time runs differently in the Dreaming. Morpheus always made up for it by visiting twice in the next week, even though Hob always said he didn't need to do that. So it should be fine.
Except now Hob can't help but wonder what urgent business Morpheus has been attending to.
Morpheus had said that Hob would be the first to know, whatever the outcome of his courting would be. The fact that Hob still hasn't heard from him makes him wonder just how well it's going, that Morpheus can't even spare the time to talk to his old friend.
Hob sighs and leans back in his seat. He's been trying to understand the same paragraph over and over again, but it seems like fatigue is finally catching up to him. Maybe he'll put something on the telly and fall asleep on the couch.
A cup of tea is gently placed down on the table in front of Hob and he nearly falls out of his chair.
"Morpheus!" Hob gasps, looking up at the figure standing across from him.
"Hob," Morpheus gives him a small smile. "You had said before that you like to drink tea after a long work night."
Hob glances down at the cup, steam rising from its surface.
Earl Grey. Morpheus remembered his preferred tea.
"I… Thanks." Hob blinks himself back to his senses. He's used to Morpheus just appearing in his house but he hadn't been expecting him tonight. Not that he's complaining. "Uh, have a seat, let me just…" he closes his laptop and places it on the empty seat beside him.
Morpheus sits across from him, graceful and silent, his blue eyes right on Hob.
"How…" Hob wants to ask how the courting is going, but he realises that he might not be prepared to hear the answer right now. "How are you?"
"I have… given a lot of thought to your advice."
Hob feels dread pool in his gut. They're going to talk about it after all.
Morpheus places a book on the table and gently pushes it towards him.
Hob frowns in confusion and looks at the title.
Tales of Caunterbury. Hob catches a whiff of the sweet, earthy smell of old books, and the ink smudges at the edges of the cover tug at Hob's memory.
Hob carefully opens it, and his breath catches at seeing his handwriting at the margins; crooked and misspelled in many places, but without a doubt his.
"Where did you get this?" he asks Morpheus with wide eyes. It was easy to lose track of his possessions during his early years of switching identities, especially after he became Sir Gadlen and had other priorities apart from keeping old books.
"In a museum where they have a surplus of artefacts on display already. That was in storage among other objects from the 15th to 17th century; the curators do not have plans to display those objects anytime soon."
"You stole this from a museum?" Hob can't decide whether that's more surprising than the fact that a personal item of his had ended up in a museum's storage area.
"I have returned it to its rightful owner."
Hob chuckles, then he remembers what they had been talking about before Morpheus brought out the book. What they were supposed to be talking about…
"Hang on," Hob furrows his eyebrows. "You said…"
"It took some time before I could think of what to give you," Morpheus glances down at the table for a moment, his fair cheekbones turning a light shade of pink. "You already have everything you want, and anything more you might desire you can simply purchase. I wanted to be able to give you… something special." He meets Hob's eyes again.
Hob knows his mouth has dropped open in surprise but he can't seem to close it or think of anything to say. Because surely he's misunderstanding something. Morpheus can't really mean…
"You had mentioned before that it saddens you when you can't share stories of your previous lifetimes to your current friends, and I wanted to let you know that you shall always have me. I will be the friend with whom you can share any part of your life, and I consider it an honour to be able to know the entirety of you."
Hob is finding it hard to breathe, and he grips the book tightly to ground himself. He can't look away from Morpheus, and even as he processes what's happening his mind remains a whirlwind of thoughts. But how… When…
"Me?" Hob manages a whisper, disbelief in his voice.
Morpheus' lips curve in a small smile. "Who else would it be, my dear Hob? While I treasure our friendship and would not wish it to change, I have also realised, perhaps far later than I should have, that I wish for… more." His eyes suddenly look uncertain. "I would like to court you, if you will have me."
"If I will have…" Hob still feels breathless, and suddenly he has never needed anything more than to be close to Morpheus. "Get over here," he says urgently.
Morpheus' eyes widen a fraction, then there's the sound of the table moving and in the next heartbeat he's in Hob's lap.
He takes Hob's face in his hands and presses their lips together, the kiss gentle but humming with something more underneath.
Hob wraps his arms around Morpheus and pulls him flush against his body, reaching up and taking as much as he can from the kiss like he needs it to breathe.
Morpheus' tongue is hot in his mouth, and he feels Morpheus' fingers thread in his hair, the light scratch of nails making him shiver. Their mouths glide warm and slick against each other, and a soft groan escapes Hob when Morpheus nips at his bottom lip. His hands run up and down Morpheus' back, and he's lightheaded with the knowledge that he's allowed to touch.
Regretfully Hob still needs to breathe, so he pulls away with a gasp and looks up at Morpheus, memorising each detail of his kiss-swollen lips and his pupils that are almost eclipsing the blue of his irises.
"I love you," Hob breathes before he can stop himself.
Morpheus stares at him wide-eyed, and then they're kissing again and Hob can only hold on for dear life as the world narrows down to the places where they're touching; lips and tongues and chests and hands and Morpheus' soft midnight hair threading through his fingers.
Morpheus puts a hand on Hob's jaw and tilts his face up further. "And I love you," he whispers against Hob's lips. "I have loved you for far longer than I had been aware of, and the awareness has only strengthened my yearning." He pulls away and looks right at Hob, his eyes searching. "I fear I cannot control my greed. You must tell me when it is too much."
Hob swallows, his grip on Morpheus' hips tightening reflexively. In all his fantasies about Morpheus, he had never imagined anything being too much. Hob thinks that would be impossible.
"You said you wanted to know me entirely," Hob's voice trembles. "Then you must know that I encourage your greed, so long as you would tolerate my own."
There's a glint in Morpheus' eye, and the smile that curves his lips sends a thrill through Hob. "Yes. I see your daydreams now, and it would be my pleasure to fulfill them."
"Then we better move to the bedroom," Hob grins. "There's not nearly enough space on this chair for even half my daydreams." Though he would gladly have Morpheus on the dining table, or let Morpheus have him. He feels nearly overwhelmed with all the possibilities.
"Yes. And then we shall move to mine, in the Dreaming where your body will have no limitations," the quiet rumble of Morpheus' voice holds so much promise that Hob feels the breath rush out of him.
"Fuck," he manages, his hips instinctively twitching against Morpheus.
"If you wish." Morpheus smiles and suddenly there's a whirlwind of sand around them.
Hob gasps and blinks, and when his vision clears he realises that they're in his bedroom.
And he's lying on his bed with Morpheus looming on top of him.
"I said that you would be the first to know of the results of my courting, shall we discuss it now?" Morpheus says teasingly.
"Later." Hob's already breathing heavily. "There's time enough for that." He flips them and dives his tongue right back into Morpheus' mouth.
They settle into the rhythm of the kiss, Morpheus' hands roam Hob's body, and Hob distantly thinks that he's very happy with the results of Morpheus' courting indeed.
Dream of the Endless/Hod Gadling, wing fic, rating E (hurt/comfort, PWP, smut)
Read it on AO3 here
*
Hob is not entirely surprised by Dream's appearances while he sleeps, these days. He's never going to make the mistake of taking the luxury for granted, but it has stopped feeling so entirely foreign, the presence of another living creature in his flat, usually lurking around like an oversized crow waiting for Hob to wake up.
He had once opened his eyes to find him perched on an invisible chair, reading one of Hob's books. Another time, Dream pronounced he had accepted an Amazon parcel from one of the pub's cleaning staff, to save them rousing Hob. What he did not say at the time was that he had appeared before the poor lass like Black Shuck made human before she had even managed to knock on Hob's door, sending her scurrying back down the stairs to the safety of the kitchens whilst swearing quietly in Mandarin. She had run into Hob the next morning as he was leaving for the university, and told him in halting English, "Your boyfriend is very pretty - but he is perhaps a bit… a bit too quiet."
Hob had taken 'quiet' to mean 'the only word I can think of in English that even comes close to epitomising how utterly creepy your goth lover is'. He completely understands.
This morning, however, Hob senses something troubling outside of the general eerie that Dream supplies to the every day. The flat is usually silent even when occupied by Dream. He seems to move without stirring the air, like the human plain of existence isn't entirely sure what the rules are. Even when he handles things like cups, spoons, the sound is muffled - nearly delayed. But this is different. The change in the atoms is palpable even to Hob's rudimentary senses. He gets out of bed hurriedly, smelling ozone and char. Distress.
"Dream?" He asks. There is no answer, but an awareness in the quiet that does it for him. Progressing into the living room, Hob stalls when he catches sight of Dream. His breath leaves his ribs as if knocked out by the buck of a stallion. "Oh shit-"
His prone form is shielded almost entirely from view by a spill of black feathers. He is on his knees, white hands stark against Hob's warm wood floors, and the breadth of what Hob finally contextualises as an enormous pair of wings is alarming in the small room. The tips of the longest flight feathers trail on the floors, curling like ferns. He is panting like something hurts, and he is… smoking vaguely. Hob has a half-boiled flash of The Lament for Icarus.
"Dream - love, sweetheart, what's going on-?" Hob skids under the great canopy of one coal-black wing to find his lover, knees groaning their protest. The feathers are thick and plentiful, fluffed in mad disarray. It puts Hob in mind for one hysterical moment of the time a blackbird fell down his chimney; the way it had been trapped before Hob freed it had left the down of its wings bend and splayed in a way that must have been painful. Now, when he gets level with Dream's face, white as moonlight, he sees the shine of tears in his eyes. "Darling-"
"Hob," Dream whispers. It is the smallest his voice has ever sounded. "It hurts."
A needle of pain lances Hob's heart. His hands flutter for a moment, unsure where he can touch, but he can't do nothing and so he gets a gentle arm around Dream's ribs and lifts him until they're both on their knees; until Dream's wings can splay out in their entirety. His weight, slight and insubstantial, sags against Hob's chest. His chin rests on his shoulder, and he clutches gently at the back of Hob's shirt with a soft groan.
"What hurts? Where? Where did these come from, darling- what happened-"
"I had- forgotten- usually my… my perception by others does not affect my corporate form-" Dream sounds so utterly miserable, wincing when Hob touches uncertainly at the base of one of the wings. "But angels - the creator - they are more powerful in their own realm-"
"The cre-" Hob stops himself, his peasant brain rearing up as if from the basement to shout, DO NOT ENGAGE. He swallows. "What were you doing… being perceived by them?"
"It is too complex. For a human mind to comprehend. The simplest explanation is that I was seeking… understanding of the order of things. And I should have simply left the ineffable undisturbed."
"The wings… love, does… so angels see you as an angel?"
"They do. And I have asked too- too many impertinent questions- and- now I am being given leave to understand them all too well." He shudders, face a mask of pain. "The burden of judgement is indeed a heavy one."
"They - they're heavy? They're heavy and they're hurting?"
"They are a newly grown limb, to my awareness. It is… overwhelmingly sensitive."
He's shirtless, Hob can feel, and he wonders what happened to his customary robes. Were they torn by the wings?
His instinct to soothe moves his hands without his conscious permission, and he strokes up between Dream's sharp shoulders, gentling him with a hum when he shakes out a little cry of distress. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to help. To- can I touch them?"
Dream hesitates, chest shuddering against Hob's once more. Despite the nervousness, he trusts Hob - has clearly come to him seeking some panacea to the raw new nerves. Jaw set, his jewel bright blue eyes soft with fearful need, he nods.
"Thank you, dove," Hob whispers. He kisses his jaw. "Tell me if it's too much. I just want…" fingers gossamer light, he starts to stroke some of the glossy black feathers down into place, startling when Dream jolts against him. "Should I stop-?"
"N-no. No, it is… just new." Dream swallows heavily.
Taking him at his word, Hob starts to work with more confidence to try and groom some of the feathers down from their disorderly tumble. Dream must have come hurtling back from wherever he was as if - as if.
Hob stalls, looking at him with a new understanding.
"Dream… did you go to ask why God had cast Lucifer down from heaven for asking questions?"
He winces as soon as Hob says it. "The creator is not… God as you understand it. But a being that encompasses. All the monotheistic deities that humans pray to. In this instance, in simple terms though, you are correct."
Awash with a mixture of horror and awe, Hob gasps in sympathy, switching gears to simply hold him for a moment with his free arm. The other fingers keep gently working, guided by instinct, preening the petrol-coloured plumes back into some order as he murmurs against Dream's ear.
"My darling. Why- what possessed you?"
"When last we spoke… Lucifer was laid low by shucking the responsibility of Hell. They seemed… lost. I wondered if it was just that… the Creator did not think they had paid for their crime. The crime of curiosity. Surely a despotic ruler is the only kind who does not allow for questioning- but-"
"Did you accuse God of being a despot?" Hob's voice goes a bit high with his own marrow-deep fear. The answering silence, however, is so absurdly sheepish that he barks a laugh. "Dream. My darling-"
"I have known Lucifer for a long time," Dream whispers. "And… I have always thought them the willing ruler of their domain… after a fashion. It is only recently I realised that a kingdom is its own prison. A crown no different than a scold's bridal, for those who are forced into it."
Contemplating this, Hob starts to use both hands to order Dream's feathers, smiling when the first knots of tension start to unspool in him. Sure, he's only got a puny little mortal brain, but even he can work out that Dream sees parallels in himself and the former ruler of Hell. Though he'd like to argue on the basis of personality differences, Hob can certainly understand the basic prospect of wanting to free your peer from the petard you have also been hoisted by.
"That was… possibly very sweet of you. Not overly smart, but it gets a ten out of ten in the moxy department."
"Lucifer… propositioned the joining of our realms once," Dream admits. He's starting to go a bit boneless against Hob now, words periodically interrupted by a little hiccuping gasp of sensitivity.
"By your realms, I'm guessing you don't mean it was a business arrangement."
"I believe they are lonely. It can certainly be isolating to believe you have no one on whom to lay your burdens. Perhaps they thought… I might share them. I did entertain the idea, but they are… too unsteady for me. I knew we were both too similar to have entered into such an alliance."
"Too unsteady, eh?" Hob smirks at the thought of himself as being steady.
"You have been one of my few constants over the last several millennia, Hob. I know you believe yourself deeply flawed, but believe me when I say you are at least several steps above the literal devil."
"Flatterer." His grin turning fond, Hob kisses Dream's cheek and then moves onto the other wing, stroking gently to lay them back down into some semblance of order. Each feather is enormous, some the length and thickness of his finger, the dominant flight feathers longer than his forearm. Dream has gone quiet against his chest. "How's that feel?"
"It feels…" Dream doesn't finish the sentence.
Heart answering the silence with a little flutter, Hob peers at him. "Nice?"
"Mmm."
That tone is familiar, a breathy quality to it that speaks of… certainly not pain. Hob smiles and, in a fit of daring, gently digs his fingers in to scratch gently at the tender skin below the feathers. The reaction is immediate, a low, startled rumble that tails off with a more vocal pitch at the end.
He's heard that noise before. Hob's hindbrain, only too happy to turn away from the concept of biblical morality and satanic rehabilitation, revs its engine in response.
"C'mere, darling," he instructs Dream briskly, "you prop yourself up on the sofa there, let me go behind you."
Despite grumbling protests, Dream crosses his arms on the lip of the couch, sagging his weight against it with the air of someone grabbing hold of a life raft. Hob slips under one of the wings - easily three metres at full length, he reckons - and kneels behind Dream. This way, he can reach more of the tender joins between his shoulders without scrabbling blindly. And, he acknowledges as they flex back in a stretch, he can more readily admire them.
"You know," he says conversationally as he goes back to his work of preening and grooming, occasionally working his fingers beneath a fanned layer to scratch at soft, down-lined skin, "these are very beautiful. You - you always look incredible but. They really work for you."
Dream, who appears to be trying hard not to turn into a liquid against the couch, does not answer.
"Sort of look right on you," Hob continues. He's as happy to hear himself talk as he's ever been when it comes to Dream. It doesn't upset him, if Dream stays quiet. He just naturally runs his motor at a constant hum.
"Mm?"
"You're gonzo, aren't you?" Hob laughs. He pushes himself up on his knees to smooth his palm along the full line of one outstretched appendage, laughing when it flexes out. It puts him in mind of a cat stretching its toes to have the space between its paw pads scratched. "Wonder if Matthew would like this as much as you do."
"I should hope you would not care to find out," Dream mutters. He sighs. "It feels - much… mm. Much better. It felt- sore. Like… pins and needles."
"You've had pins and needles?"
"When I was in the care of Roderick Burgess, I had periods of intense stillness. I do not know if we would experience it the same way, but I had… pain. From being in one attitude overlong."
"Hm. Remind me again to ask you about a revenge dream for that one."
A soft huff of amusement. "Do not waste your energy on the dead… when it could be spent continuing your vital work here…"
"Noted." Hob lets his fingertips scritch deeply into the pile, gentle among the quills, one hand on each wing. Dream's corresponding moan is trembling and completely stunning, ringing through the morning quiet like a dawn chorus. Hob looks down at his own burgeoning hard-on. Well, it's certainly among the strangest things he's been turned on by, but not the strangest by any stretch of the imagination.
It's hardly a surprise. Dream is naked from the waste up, returned hurt from a noble pursuit of answers on behalf of an old flame - Hob's only a bit jealous - and now he's quivering and keening under Hob's touch. And he's a vision from a Pre-Raphaelite painting, a dark-haired beauty with creamy skin and the wings of a great black swan.
And Hob - Hob apparently has very crude feelings about Dream looking like the personification of virtuous innocence. He'd examine them more closely if he were in a self-emollating mood, but he's disposed to petting his inhuman boyfriend right now and wouldn't like to be rude. Or to know himself that well. It might take away the sparkle.
"Beautiful," Hob sighs. He kisses between the wings on a whim, the space between Dream's shoulder blades the perfect size for his face. With the down against his cheeks, flickeringly warm, he rests his forehead and breathes in the scent. A certain keratin compound, and the smell of a burned down fire. Dream's distinctive smell beneath, cool air and old books.
A soft, high keen stirs him. He lifts his head, and sees Dream's fingers are digging into the leather of the couch, dark nails biting.
"Oh, love. Is that too much-?"
"No-" Dream says it quickly, voice bitten off in a way Hob has rarely heard it before. "Please. I… enjoy your touch."
That is an insulting understatement. Dream seems near-inebriated on his touch, cheek smushed into the piping of the couch to leave a faint mark, breaths growing choppy. Heart rising into the back of his throat, Hob kisses his shoulder again before burying his face into the expanse of one wing and exhaling slowly.
"Hob-" the vowel of his name stretches into a pleading whine. Hob suspects God, or the creator, or whatever, didn't anticipate that Dream of the Endless is weird, and his human boyfriend even weirder. He grins into the feathers.
"You seem to be feeling much better. Is there something you want, sweetheart?"
"You mock me. In the face of my plight, you are laughing."
"Your plight being that you're horny now that I've put my humble human mits all over you? Love, I would never laugh at you. I am teasing you."
"I mislike it."
"Shocker." In apology, Hob keeps his face buried against the plumes of his feathers and slides his hands around to stroke over Dream's cool chest. A couple of gentle pinches and rolls at the shell pink of his nipples gets a groan so low it reverberates through Hob's fucking DNA, and damn, he's absolutely mad for his absurd crow-coded lover. "That's it, my heart. Pretty bird."
Dream swats at him half-heartedly. Hob catches the hand and pulls it gently round behind to let Dream feel just how not-funny he's finding this scenario. Another pleased rumble.
"I should like you to fuck me," Dream announces, "as soon as is practicable. You can furnish us with the supplies. In deference to my current predicament, I will go on top."
Hob would laugh, but every bit of blood that had previously been left in his brain has evacuated with urgency. He doesn't even answer, just kisses his back once more and jumps up to run, bandy-legged with the weight of his hard on, to the bedroom for lube.
When he returns, Dream is entirely naked. His hand is low between his thighs, and Hob thinks he sees - fuck, he's wearing the guise that he knows drives Hob crazy, the soft, pink cunt that's crested with black curls and the swollen cocklet Hob has worshipped a hundred times before. His long, pale fingers play over the plush flesh, seeking the rosy heat almost lazily. If he were feeling more present-minded, Hob might acknowledge it's also the form he wears when he feels the most vulnerable. There's something wrong with Hob that he finds that hot, too.
"Fuck." Winded by the sight, Hob shucks his own redundant boxers and all but throws himself down behind him. Dream peers back at him, jewel eyes framed by the black gleam of hair and feathers. There is definitely something twisted in Hob, because he feels the little spurt of pre that escapes him with that look. "How do you want me-?"
"Lie down. Slick yourself for me."
He's aware of that avian gaze as he lowers himself down onto his back on the rug, letting his knees bow a little open as he curls a hand around his cock. A few languid strokes are enough to get him panting, his length firming almost impossibly under the touch. "Dream, dove-"
"Yes. Now." With impossible grace, Dream slides himself back over Hob's knees and sits himself astride his lower belly. Hob feels feathers skim over his chest and face, but he can't stop looking up the snake-like line of Dream's spine, trailing down to his perfect heart shaped arse. He's touching Hob's cock, letting it grind slickly against his own, his cunt, and that is so much Hob has to hold his breath.
"Dream - Dream, fuck-"
"This is… a humbling reaction to caring for me, Hob Gadling," Dream murmurs. He's wet and hot against Hob's skin, hips rocking, and Hob gets the feeling even without being able to see that he's measuring the depth of his length against his own concave stomach - seeing how deep he'll go.
"Touching you in any way is mostly a turn on for me," he breathes. "You're so special - don't know how you ever even looked my-"
"Do not speak ill of my beloved," Dream cuts him off . He strokes up the length of Hob's cock then, fingertips making a teasing five point star over the head. Hob stutters silent. He can still feel Dream considering. Curiosity compels him.
"Torn, love?" He asks.
"Indeed. I am occasionally reminded that I wish you could fuck me in every possible way, simultaneously."
Hob shivers a bit. He has no idea what that might look like - and his imagination is sort of average, so he immediately thinks of The Thing and pulls a face - but he'd try anything for Dream. "There's always the Dreaming."
"Mm." Dream tilts his head. Twisting his spine elegantly, wings flexing out, he peers at Hob. He's apparently inviting collaborative insight, which is hard to provide when he's still squirming his cunt against Hob's aching sex.
"I have - fingers," Hob points out. "And. We could get one of those toys that adds… it's… I can't explain, my dick has control of the brain cells right now."
"Fingers," Dream hums.
"Just depends where you prefer them."
Another beat of consideration, and then Dream turns smoothly to face him. This time he stays elevated on his knees, letting Hob finally get a better view of his gorgeous pussy, wet and gleaming. Hob's own cock twitches between his thighs. With a grin that does something unnamable to remind Hob he is in fact having sex with something not at all human, Dream reaches between his thighs and guides the head of Hob's cock against the tight kiss of his asshole.
"I would have you here," he tells Hob, "and your fingers inside my cunt. And then your mouth when you have taken your pleasure."
"You can have anything you want," Hob gasps. He's making a valiant effort not to come from the gentle pressure of Dream's fingers; his fluttering, hot opening, so tight it must feel nearly painful as he starts to rock down to take him in. He manages to gather enough cognisance to get his own hands on Dream, one thumb coming to circle over the fat swell of his clit. He watches a bead of slick glowing in the shielded heat of his cunt, smears it with his fingers as Dream breaches himself on Hob's hard cock.
"Oh," Dream whispers. His eyes flutter shut, the dark fan of his lashes echoed by the sweep of wings behind him. He's sheathing Hob's cock slowly inside himself, a hot, muscular clench that renders Hob nearly blind with want. "Hob-"
"Anything you want, love. Hard as you want." He keeps working his thumb over Dream, rubbing wetness from the sweet, needy rosebud of his cunt up to the crowning nerves above. He blinks some of the overwhelm away to watch his lover, staggered by his sheer beauty. The great dark wings are silhouetted starkly by the morning light behind, fat fingers of gold prying their way between the feathers. His marble pale torso flexes as he starts to rock himself on Hob's length, mouth falling open in a helpless coral pink 'o' of want.
"More-" he breathes.
Obligingly, Hob tips his wrist up to curl his fingers into Dream's slick opening. His body takes him in like it's pleading for him, and even the awkward angle doesn't stop it from being the single greatest pleasure he's ever known. Dream is moaning soft and deep in his chest, shocked by what Hob can give him, what he can make him feel. Like he had been when Hob had started to gently preen his feathers - oh god, he can't think about that or he'll come.
"Darling," he gasps, "oh god, you're so beautiful - so perfect. Feel so gorgeous around my fingers, lush as hell. And your- fuck - oh, your tight little hole-"
Dream thrives on this kind of talk. Hob sees it in the way he starts to bounce himself faster, his cunt making slick, plush sounds as he rides Hob's fingers and cock at once. He's transcendently beautiful, whole body made aglow with his want, skin luminously blushed and his muscles all in high relief. He feels like the finest silk, like fucking the concept of heaven, and Hob can't ever get enough of the scent and taste and feel of him - never, ever will. He doesn't even mind being used like a human fuck doll - in fact, it turns his fucking crank and always has. Dream's directness is so entirely easy, and he's generous in his reciprocity. Not that getting to fuck both his holes could ever be considered anything but mutually beneficial.
He's getting quicker, voice taking on just the softest quake of overwhelm. Hob knows the signs by now, and the other hand - previously steadying his hip - creeps up the cliff fall of his throat. He feeds Dream his fingers, watching him fasten his lips around them as greedily as a lamb with a bottle. The soft wet aliveness of his tongue between Hob's fingers makes him twitch, his own breaths coming faster as Dream takes his fill of him; suckles his fingers and moans and rides him until Hob is barely hanging on.
"Dream - Dream, sweetheart, I'm going to-"
One of Dream's hands covers his mouth in gentle warning, back caved with tension, wings flexing. It's enough; Hob waits, thighs clenching and stomach locking with the effort. He's slicked with sweat, cramping in the wrist from fingering Dream's cunt, his thumb making an L for his clit - but letting him glut himself on Hob's body is entirely worth it.
He watches Dream's shoulders starting to shudder, his body clamping down tight around his fingers and cock. He's hot and molten inside, deliciously slick, and Hob's whole body aches with the need in his core, balls tight and hips arching, but he holds.
Dream bites down on Hob's fingers and snaps his hips viciously as he comes. His cunt clenches around Hob's fingers, slick spilling into his cupped palm, and the kneading heat of his hole around Hob's length wrenches the orgasm out of him with a sweetly coaxing command. It flashes through him like floodwater, rendering him entirely mindless to anything but Dream, and bliss, and being inside.
Above him, he's aware of Dream's wings - that's weirdly normal to think - flickering out, and then he's bowing down against Hob like a swan, hiding his face in his throat. The feathers shield them, blotting the sun, cocooning them in dusty warmth.
Still panting, Hob shifts his aching arm from between them. They're a mess of sweat and come and slick, but the umbrella of Dream's wings makes it feel altogether holy.
"Wow," Hob mumbles. "If this is the result of you calling God a despot, I'm all in favour."
"You are in favour of God putting me in the form of an angel and firing me out of the silver city at such a velocity that I experienced adiabatic compression?"
"It was very sexy of you."
Dream, as expected, laughs. It is the surprised rusty gate burst he often gives when he finds Hob inescapably obtuse. "Glad to be of service."
Hob chuckles, stroking up his back and humming in amusement when Dream's breath hitches with another little frisson of pleasure. The wings are still, apparently, very sensitive.
"Gooood is a despoooot," Hob sings under his breath, "when all is said and done… you'll believe God is a despooot…"
"Hob," Dream says. He is likely aiming for disapproving, but it sounds rather breathy with laughter.
"I bet you could change the fabric of reality so those were the words, couldn't you?"
"Not without making a great many other changes that would impact the Waking world more than you know."
"Come on. It'd be funny. Imagine that little blonde lass singing that. She'd become a very different icon."
"I will no longer be indulging you in this hypothetical scenario. Think of a new topic of conversation."
"How about… 'let's go to bed'? Hopefully when you wake up you'll look a bit less like a pigeon."
"Hob Gadling-"
"Kidding, kidding. You put Icarus to shame. At least you survived your immolation."
"Your heartfelt analogy of a great tragedy is truly touching."
"Sorry. You've fucked all the thoughtful right out of me. Oh - you said you wanted my mouth, love."
Dream makes a thoughtful noise, hips shifting where Hob has slipped out of him by now.
"The wings are… unexpectedly heavy," he murmurs. "I do not believe I have the energy right now to balance them."
"No balancing necessary, I'm happy to do the work?"
"You are most gallant. And perhaps I will take you up on the offer when… we have rested adequately."
"Rain check, the Americans call that."
"Do they now. Well then yes. I shall take a rain check on cunnilingus."
Hob shudders, cock giving a valiant twitch despite being very much spent. "Don't be weird and hot again, you'll kill me."
"We will both benefit from une petit somme, then."
"Oui, mon rêve."
"Très bien. Vous devrez peut-être me porter."
Hob squints, brain thoroughly overtaxed by having to think full sentences in English, never mind French.
"I can try. Come on then, mon petit oiseau."
They slowly separate, and even with Hob's 600 year old knees, he's able to gently loop his elbow under Dreams legs and lift him with his other arm around his back. The wings are heavy, he can tell, but Dream is not. He allows Hob to convey him to his room like the king he is, only fluttering in mild alarm once when Hob walks into the edge of the doorframe and swears bloody murder.
"Sorry, sorry, banged my fucking elbow-"
"You ought to get wider doors."
"You're not planning on keeping these, are you?" Lowering him carefully onto the bed, Hob considers briefly how he will actually fit in his own bed with Dream's rather large new appendages. Then he turns pertly onto his stomach, tucking them down against the length of his body… and yeah. It's still doing something for Hob, watching Dream clothed in nothing but feathers, the pale curve of his thighs and backside a shocking contrast to his black plumage and hair. God, he's so beautiful it aches.
"Did I ever tell you you're too good for me?" Hob asks him mildly.
Dream chuffs. "Hob. Please."
"Please what?"
"Since I have known you, you have been the personification of patience, adaptability, generosity, and kindness. When you believed me lonely, you provided me a balm. When I wronged you, you benignly forgave me. When I come to you in pain, your first thought is only to soothe me. To please me. You are the most ardent and exceptionally talented lover I have ever had. Every second you love me is a moment I am blessed beyond conception." He reaches out and covers Hob's hand on the sheets between them, watching him with the tenderest expression Hob has ever seen.
You, Hob Gadling, are the reason I was compelled to ask the Creator about Lucifer. I have always thought of myself as a damned thing, incapable of redemption, and you are… the succour I desperately craved but never thought I might even conceive of. And I have realised that there is no such succour for the devil. And I wondered… if I might be able to change their fortune. In a similar fashion as you have changed mine. Just slightly. With an appeal to a force outside of my comprehension, to see if I might influence the fate of a friend. As you have done for me without even thinking about it."
Hob swallows the knot in his throat and squeezes his hand. His smile is watery when he kisses Dream's knuckles.
"You just want me to provide you succour later when you've had your nap. I know your game."
Dream shakes his head, laughing and tugging their clasped hands under his chin. "You are a rake and a cad."
"Most exceptionally talented lover ever, you said."
"One does not negate the other."
"I love you too, Dream."
Laughter bubbling up, Hob nuzzles in close to kiss him, their noses bumping gently. Dream makes the sweetest, rumbliest noise of contentment, and one of his great wings sighs up to shade Hob in its warm darkness.
commision by @doitforstamets of hob, avery (hob's daughter), and morpheus from my fic 'what was before is left behind'. i absolutely love it i'm gonna cry /pos
please follow them and also please give the fic a read if you find this image adorable!!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
So I started this rec list sometime in mid to late 2024 after listening to @thisweekinfandomhistory's episode on the Crack Van, where one of the hosts commented (and I'm most definitely probably paraphrasing here) about how rec lists are something of a lost art.
This, combined with my burning desire to write a primer on Dreamling (in the hopes it could perhaps one day get covered on the pod) was what pushed me to start going through my 30-something pages of bookmarks (of which those occupy slightly more than a third of my total pages of bookmarks) and start categorizing them in preparation for this list.
Sorry about all the parentheses; I've very likely got some rather loud undiagnosed ADHD and cannot for the life of me keep my brain from interjecting with every single bit of information, relevant or otherwise. But, I digress.
There are ten posts included in this monster of a fic rec masterpost, and they are divided between Oneshots, Multi-Chaptered Fics, and Series. The reason for the divide is simple: Tumblr only allows 100 inline links per post, as I also learned from listening to the lovely ladies of the This Week in Fandom History Podcast.
The rec list posts are below the cut, along with a link to my masterpost Google Doc, an explanation as to the method behind my madness, among other things.
Oneshots - Part One
Contains: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crossover
Oneshots - Part Two
Contains: Fluff / Happy Ending, Fishbowl Rescue, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, New Inn Is A Temple
Oneshots - Part Three (NSFW)
Contains: Accidental Vouyerism, Age Difference, BDSM, College / University AU, Centaur AU, Dragon AU, Dream Sex, Fantasy AU, First Time / First Kiss / Getting Together / Friends to Lovers, Fluff / Smut
Oneshots - Part Four (NSFW)
Contains: Fishbowl Rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Medieval AU, MPreg / Breeding Kink, Nursing Kink, Omegaverse, Oviposition, Pacific Rim AU, Period Sex, Retired Dream of the Endless, Selkie AU, Sex Pollen, Shapeshifting, Star Wars AU, Stuck in An Airport AU, Soulmates / Soul Bond, Temporary Amnesia, Tentacle Sex, Touch-Starved Dream of the Endless, Venom AU, Werewolf AU
Oneshots - Part Five
Contains: Soulmate AU (No Smut), Touch-Starved Dream of the Endless
Multi-Chapter - Part One
Contains: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Crossover, Fishbowl Rescue, Fluff, Friends / Enemies to Lovers, Getting Together
Multi-Chapter - Part Two (NSFW)
Contains: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Swap, Canon Divergence AU, College / University / Academia AU, Creatures & Monsters AU, Dragons AU, Dream Sex, Established Relationship, Fairy Tale AU, Fantasy AU, Fishbowl Rescue / Hob Gadling Saves Dream of the Endless, Friends to Lovers, Fuck Or Die, Getting Together, Historical AU, Hob Gadling is Hope of the Endless, Hob Gadling Owns the New Inn
Multi-Chapter - Part Three (NSFW)
Contains: Hurt/Comfort, Medieval AU, Modern Setting / Human AU, Monsterfucking, Omegaverse, Past Relationship(s), Period Sex, Retired Dream of the Endless, Roommates, Sex Pollen, Soulmates AU, Temporary Amnesia,
The New Inn is a Temple, Touch-Starved Dream of the Endless, Vampire AU, Victorian AU, Werewolf AU
There will likely not be any more posts added to this, given the nature of how Tumblr posts work, but as I am still in the middle of my second run-though of the Dreamling ship tag's entire body of completed works, I will continue to update this Google Doc as I go (and whenever I comb through my Marked for Later tab and go through fics that are still there as well) that you may view at your leisure.
Note: this Google Doc is my personal fic rec list, and is not the be-all, end-all of Dreamling fics, despite how expansive it is. If there is a fic I have not added, it's very likely I did not read it because of a tag I'm not into (like Hurt No Comfort), or I read it and didn't bookmark it because I felt like I wasn't going to read it more than once. Or any other number of reasons, such as incomplete fics, which I rarely read these days unless it's a tag that I absolutely go feral for.
So don't DM me asking to add specific fics, please. Thanks. :)
I would like to explain that the Google Doc uses the tab function to separate the Oneshots, Multi-Chaptered Fics, and Series, and within each tab, they are further divided using the outline function.
The way I chose to organize the Oneshots and Multi-Chaptered fics was to start by thinking of this rec list as sort of like a menu at a restaurant by picking a main tag that I feel is the focus of the fic, and then further organize them by a sub-catagory tag (for example, I have Moorishflower's fic, Radio Silence, under the broad umbrella of 'Alternate Universe Oneshots' which is further organized under the sub-catagory, 'Post-Apocalyse AU'). Mostly I tried to follow this method by selecting two tags from the tag list of the fic, however not all fics I wanted to include HAD enough tags to use, or they had a bunch of hyper-specific, talk-commentary tags that I felt were not very compatible with the system I had worked out. So there are a few fics that I had to categorize or sub-catagorize simply based on vibes.
Hopefully, that explanation was sufficient, and I know that – given the current state of the fandom in regards to NG – some of these fics may one day become orphaned or be taken down. Unfortunately there is little I can do about that other than to encourage you to download any of the fics you enjoy so that you may continue to enjoy them if they disappear.
The purpose of this undertaking was more to challenge myself (and my patience) to see if I still had what it took to make a proper rec list and also to truly get a sense of Dreamling's major themes, tropes, and common tags so that I could list them out in the primer I still want to write for TWIFH.
That's... pretty much why this exists, though along the way, I was moved to finish this project for the sake of creating a snapshot of this particular ship's fandom at this particular moment in time. Whether or not it lasts remains to be seen, but I'm glad to have done it, and I hope that any fandom historians, as well as current and future fans of Dreamling appreciate my efforts.
I would also like to give a special shout-out to the @mr-sadman Discord, which also has a fic library of at least some of the listed fics for the occasions when AO3 goes down for whatever reason, as a good chunk of Dreamling authors and artists tend to congregate there and are all a bunch of lovely and wonderfully derranged people who have supported me in this endeavor.
Dream of the Endless | Morpheus/Hob Gadling || rated T || 1/5
Dream has never felt so small.
Dream made a different decision atop that hoodoo in the Dreaming. and now he is human, and grappling with what that means. at least he has Hob Gadling to help him figure it out.
