He's a fresh lil Dream from a nap
Also, I am very bad with days for events so I bundled it up for it.
Hair Ribbon/ Et Tu Brutus/Velvet. Because Hob paid top quality silk velvet for that bow <3
This is a Dreamling-ning of "The Meeting on the Turret Stairs,"by Irish artist Frederic William Burton (1864).
Also, my HC that during the Toast dream, Hob perceived Dream was in danger, and his subconscious couldn’t help but to ‘come to his defense’, and morphed out of his Elizabethan ruffle for the good old medieval chainmail & sword.
—
Hand Drawing + digital blending + texture wrapping for the chainmail.
We hope that you join us for this week of celebration, from 1st Sept to the 7th, for the second and final season of The Sandman!
Our stance on plagiarism and AI
We do not accept nor condone the use of plagiarism, including the use of AI, whether in writing or art. If you are caught using either, you will be disqualified from the current event and barred entry for the other events the Mr. Sadman team puts forward.
General Rules and Information
Being a server member, while strongly advised, is not mandatory for this event. Our AO3 collection will be entirely open and unmoderated for everyone to post. We will be accepting late submissions, so fear not if you don’t have time to post everything you wanted to post! Additional events, such as watch-parties, fic read-alongs and game nights, will be held on the server.
The official tags for this year’s edition are : #SadmanWeek and #SadmanWeek 2025
For reblogging purposes, make sure your tumblr blog is visible in searches and don’t be shy to tag our account (@mr-sadman)! Unfortunately, despite our vigilance, some posts can evade our attention, if that’s the case, please DM us and we will rectify the situation.
Official AO3 Collection : SadmanWeek2025 [link]
If you are under the age of 18, you will not be able to create explicit content for the event. Just to reiterate, Mr. Sadman is a 16+ server.
The Mr. Sadman Modteam is a firm believer of “ship and let ship” as well as the kinktomato (https://fanlore.org/wiki/Kinktomato). In accordance with the Server’s existing rules, we will not tolerate any discrimination and harassment in any forms whatsoever. This includes: queerphobia, homophobia, racism, content policing, hate speech, doxxing, shaming, etc, as well as hostility towards organisers and fellow participants.
Since the event is a few weeks away, what can I do now?
Spread the word and the joy! We have decided to post the prompts early to give more time for people to get creative!
Without further ado here is this year’s prompt list:
1/9 Monday: Hair Ribbon| Teeth | "If only we had more time"
2/9 Tuesday: Solace | Et tu, Brutus? | "I can't do this anymore."
3/9 Wednesday: Velvet | "May I have this dance?" | Flights of fancy
6/9 Saturday: “Only one of you.” | "If you can dream it..." | Familial
7/9 Sunday: A final toast | Secret identities | Treasure
FAQs/TLDR
FAQs :
When is the event? From September 1st to 7th! While you should post the prompt for each day it is associated with, we will also be accepting late submissions.
Can I combine prompts? YES!! Be sure to indicate which days and prompts you are using in your description, otherwise, go free! You can post on either days associated with your prompts, or, if it’s a multipart work, on each corresponding day!
Is there any content restriction? We accept all works of all mediums - writing, art, collages, playlists, podfics, translations, video edits, etc., whether they are SFW, NSFW and/or triggering. Writers and artists- tag appropriately; Readers and viewers - be mindful of tags!
Where should I post my work ? Anywhere on Tumblr or AO3!! We have accounts on both platforms and we also have an AO3 collection : SadmanWeek 2025 [link]!
What tag should I use for visibility ? We recommend using both #SadmanWeek and #SadmanWeek2025 as well as tagging our account (@mr-sadman)! We will try our best to reblog every entry but if you see that we haven’t reblogged/retweeted your post yet, don’t be afraid to DM us! Make sure your blog settings allow your posts appear in searches - otherwise we might not see them!
Are polyamorous ships accepted ? Yes! As long as you manage to keep track of all the limbs.
Are xReader / xOC works accepted? Yes!!!
Do I need to be a part of the server to participate? We would love for you to join us in the server, but SadmanWeek is open to all! Some additional events (such as a watch party, game nights and fic read-alongs) will be held on the server, submissions do not need to come from server members only!!
I need help, how do I reach a mod?
If there is something that is not covered by our rules masterpost and/or FAQ, you are very free to reach out to us in the Discord server’s dedicated channel or in Tumblr DMs!
Sadman Week 2025 Prompt (Day 3): May I Have This Dance? (with bonuses Hair Ribbon and Eye Contact!)
Shall we dance?
On a bright cloud of music shall we fly?
Shall we dance?
Shall we then say "Goodnight and mean "Goodbye"?
Or perchance,
When the last little star has left the sky,
Shall we still be together
With are arms around each other
And shall you be my new romance?
On the clear understanding
That this kind of thing can happen,
Shall we dance?
Shall we dance? Shall we Dance?
--The King and I
I'm a sucker for that scene (even as problematic as the movie is, forgive me), and a sucker for Dream and Hob's 1789 meeting. I know the Dream King says he does not dance, but perhaps with the right music and right partner?
Thanks to @adorkastock for having such wonderful reference images to work with (this one was "Totally Normal Roommates"). Ballroom background by thefairypath on Pixabay. Made with Studio Clip Art.
Rumors about an entity getting captured by humans have spread around, and Hob hasn't heard anything from Dream ever since he postponed their meetings indefinitely to tend to his realm.
Hob knows that it's unlikely that Dream got captured again. But it's probably safer to check.
Word Count: 5,067
Notes
This is inspired by this fic by @softest-punk! <3
For Sadman Week 2025 | Prompt: Teeth | @mr-sadman
For Tropetember 2025 | Prompt: Whump | @tropetember
EDIT: Now with Part 2!
[Read on AO3]
---
The buzz of pleasant conversations floats around The New Inn as Hob laughs at another joke made by one of his fae regulars. He prefers to mingle with the customers during "Spirit Nights" at the Inn; it's not everyday that he gets to truly be himself and not have to be wary about being caught as an immortal.
It was about a year ago when he happened to see two men breaking into a bookshop and stopped them before they could take anything. He met Aziraphale and Crowley shortly after the men ran away, and it took several minutes and a few drinks for his inner medieval Catholic to wrap his head around demons and angels being real, but by the end of that night they had become friends. And Hob had the idea to make the third Friday of every month be "Spirit Night" for The New Inn, to provide a safe space for other immortals like himself. Considering who he built the Inn for, it's surprising really that he hadn't thought of it sooner. Crowley makes fun of the name's pun every chance he gets, but he visits more often than Aziraphale.
The sound of a chair scraping the floor catches his attention, and he sees that one of the demons has stood up; his human disguise flickering for a moment to reveal a shorter humanoid with green skin and stubby horns, and a tail flicking back and forth. There's a spell that automatically casts a disguise on all non-human creatures if there are any oblivious human customers around, made by a witch that Hob had hired, but the fact that this particular demon's disguise flickered meant that he was preparing to use magic, and everyone knows that's against the rules of the Inn.
Hob excuses himself from the fae's table and starts to walk towards the demon, but before he could say anything, the demon heads for the door and Hob realises he's about to confront the woman who just entered.
"Lookie who's here," the demon drawled.
"Hullo, Drozgeth. Nice outfit."
Hob freezes in place as his mind registers multiple things at once.
That woman saw through the human disguise, which means she already knows other creatures exist.
She knows the demon's name and spoke it so casually.
She looks exactly like Lady Johanna.
What the hell. Is that her? Did Dream make her immortal, too? Hob knows now that Death is actually the reason that he's immortal, not Dream. But still, did those two make her immortal? Hob doesn't know how he feels about that, but for now he has a bar fight to prevent.
He walks closer to the demon—Drozgeth? He's only been here once or twice before, but he should know that The New Inn is neutral ground.
Drozgeth sneers. "What are you doing here, Constantine?" he says the name like he's spitting out something disgusting.
Constantine? If this is Lady Johanna, Hob would have a few words with Dream about not telling him she's immortal too.
"I'm here for a drink," the woman says lightly. "It's been a long night, mate. Move out of the way."
Drozgeth hisses and a forked tongue slips out from his mouth. He takes a step forward. "How about I—"
Hob puts a firm hand on his shoulder. "How about you get back to your table now, eh? Let's all have a good drink with our friends."
Drozgeth roughly shrugs off his hand and glares at him. "And what if I don't? What are you going to do about it, human?"
"Me? Nothing. The others, though…" Hob looks around them.
Fae and nature spirits and even other demons are glowering at Drozgeth, showing glowing eyes and glinting fangs through their disguises. Most of the humans remain oblivious, but they still don't look happy about a potential fight.
"They might have a thing or two to say about it," Hob continues. "You know the rules. If you're gonna fight, you take it at least one kilometer away from the premises."
Drozgeth warily looks at the threatening stances around him, and he walks back to his table with nothing but some grumbled words. The rest of the customers return to their conversations like nothing happened.
"You're the owner?" the woman asks Hob. "I've been hearing about this place. Just didn't have time to drop by until now." She walks past him and to the bar without waiting for an answer. "Whiskey, mate. Neat," she nods to the bartender.
She didn't seem to recognise Hob. A descendant, then? Not Lady Johanna herself.
Hob orders a beer for himself and sits next to her at the bar. "You look human. But you knew that demon's name. Familiar with this lot, then?"
"You could say it's the family business," the woman says indifferently before taking a sip from her glass.
"And the business is… bounty hunting?" Hob guesses.
"Depends on who hires me, really. Like my job for tomorrow, I didn't need to do the hunting for that one. Just gotta free some poor creature locked in a basement before the humans who summoned it blow themselves up with magic they don't understand."
Something about the phrasing nags at Hob. He sets down his bottle at the bar and forgets about it for a moment. "Locked in a basement? Who?"
"Probably a demon. Or a nature spirit, or something else entirely. The important thing is, the priest who heard about the capture is my friend and is paying me double if I do the job immediately."
Hob falls silent. Since Dream came back three months ago, they had seen each other almost every week. Then Dream told him at their last meeting that he needed to attend to some things in his realm, and he didn't know when he'd have the time to visit again. Hob hasn't seen him in a month.
"When was that creature summoned?" Hob asks.
"I don't know," the woman shrugs. "A few weeks ago, maybe. Why?"
An unpleasant feeling rises up in Hob's throat. "A friend of mine got locked in a basement for a while. I'm just wondering… No, it can't be him," Hob mumbles mostly to himself. "He'd have been more careful this time around. I'm sure it's not him." He doesn't believe his own words, and the woman looks even more skeptical.
She frowns and stares at his face for a few moments. "Bloody hell. Are you the Wandering Jew?"
Hob instinctively tenses up. The last person who called him that looked exactly like this woman, and her thugs had a knife to his throat within minutes.
"My god, it is you. It was a rough drawing that Lady Johanna had, but it's you, isn't it? And does your friend happen to be the 'devil' in Burgess' basement back then?"
Hob feels his eyes widen. "You know him?" He doesn't think he'd ever met another human before who knew Dream.
"Dream of the Endless? Yeah, I met him once, a while ago. I happened to have his magic sand, he took it back." Her expression turns somber for a moment, then just as quickly it returns to normal. "Anyway. I don't think it's him. Nothing weird's been happening to dreams, right?"
Hob nods slowly. He wants to know how this Constantine met Dream, and how she ended up with his sand, but there are other things to prioritise right now. "Are you absolutely sure that it's not him?"
The woman taps her fingers thoughtfully on the bar top. "No. I can't say for sure until I actually see the creature."
Hob lets out a breath and makes a decision. "Then I'm coming with you."
"What?" she looks taken aback.
"I'll help you free the creature. Then we can both be sure it isn't him."
She shakes her head. "I've never needed help with these things, and I don't need your help now. I'll let you know afterwards if it's him or not. "
"But it would be faster if you had some help, right? And safer. Especially since we don't even know what kind of creature it is."
"Look, mate, I barely know you. I don't know what you can do in that sort of work. I can't afford to worry about your ass too while covering mine."
"I've been a soldier in every war that happened in this continent for the past 600 years," Hob points out. "I can take care of myself. And how do you think I manage to run a pub like this? I'm not an idiot around magic."
She sighs in exasperation and narrows her eyes. "You really care about him, don't you?"
"Of course I do, he's my oldest friend."
"Fine. But you have to listen to everything I say. I don't want him getting angry with me if something happened to you."
***
Less than 24 hours later, Hob finds himself going down a staircase of an abandoned factory. Jo is walking a few paces ahead, and it's his job to make sure that no one's following them.
Jo had explained to him the main things to watch out for, and a few incantations to protect himself in an emergency. But what he's more worried about is what they'll find in the basement. He knows that Jo has a point about how there hasn't been anything wrong with dreams lately, so it's unlikely that Dream has been captured again. Still, he can't risk repeating the same mistake of not being there for Dream when he needed it.
They reached the bottom of the stairs, and there's a faint fluorescent light casting a ghastly glow over carboard boxes and rusted shelves. In the middle of the room sits what looks like a child dressed in leaves and twigs, hugging his knees protectively towards his chest. When he looks up at the sound of footsteps, Hob notices that his ears are pointed at the end, and his cheeks have a tinge of green.
"Dryad," Jo mutters, slowly approaching the binding circle surrounding the child. "Are you hurt?"
The child shakes his head, his bright green eyes looking cautiously at the two of them.
Jo gets to work unlocking the binding, reciting a few incantations from a book while erasing runes with her boots in a particular order that Hob doesn't understand. Hob feels bad for the dryad child, and partially guilty about the relief he feels at seeing that it's not Dream after all.
They all make it back safely out of the factory, and the dryad thanks them both, giving Jo a shiny green pendant before running off into a nearby cluster of trees and disappearing.
"See?" Jo turns to him. "There was nothing to worry about."
"Why would they imprison a dryad? And who are they, anyway?"
"People will do anything if they're desperate or greedy enough. The owners of this factory went bankrupt recently, and I guess they believed that imprisoning a magical creature would bring them luck."
"Assholes," Hob mutters, thinking about a different prisoner and a different basement.
"Go home, Robbie. You worry too much about your man."
Hob feels his face warm. "He's not my—" he cuts himself off when he sees Jo's knowing smirk.
"Just wait for him, yeah? I'll let you know if I hear anything that could be about him. It's not like you can run after every single rumour of a summoned creature just to check." Jo walks down the sidewalk and hails a cab.
***
Hob ducks behind a pillar just as the guards fire at him. A bullet lodges itself into his shoulder, and he grunts as the smallest bit of movement causes blood to trickle out of the wound and down his arm. Damn. He has to patch that up if he doesn't want a trail of blood leading the guards right to him. He takes out a handkerchief and quickly ties it over the wound, pulling the knot tight with his teeth. It will have to do for now. He can take the bullet out later.
His sources said that a demon is being held captive in the garden of this fancy mansion, and judging by the armed guards patrolling, there's definitely something worth all this expensive security.
He dashes into the hedge maze—he still can't believe rich people really own these things—and pulls out the map that was stolen for him. The early afternoon sun is glaring from above the tall green walls, and soon enough Hob can feel sweat dripping into his eyes. Why he decided to wear a jacket today of all days he doesn't know. He hastily wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and turns the corner leading into the heart of the maze.
A large perfect circle of salt is drawn in the center, and inside it stands a tall dark creature seemingly made of shadows.
Hob's footsteps stutter to a halt. It's not Dream, is it? He knows his friend can take many forms—
The figure turns to him and snarls, rows of jagged teeth appearing in multiple places along its body.
"I'm here to help," Hob puts his hands up in a placating gesture, wincing as the movement sends a bolt of pain in his shoulder up to his neck. "I'm looking for my friend, but I can get you out of here too."
Most of the teeth retreat out of sight, and Hob gets the sense that he's being watched curiously by unseen eyes.
"Okay. Salt circle. I just need to break it, right?" He checks his notebook to be sure. "Right. I'm approaching now, okay? Don't kill me." It would be annoyingly inconvenient if he had to legally fake his death so soon in this century.
The remaining teeth disappear, and the figure floats backwards as far away as possible within the circle.
Hob moves forward and kicks away chunks of salt, making sure that no amount of the fine white powder get stuck in the grass.
Shouts and footsteps are coming from nearby, and Hob looks at the creature just as it lunges towards him with clawed hands. Hob doesn't have time to gasp as he feels bony hands grip his shoulders and suddenly everything is dark and he's flying and it's cold cold cold.
He lands unsteadily on his feet and blinks a few times before the disorientation dissipates completely. He's outside the mansion, and the shadow creature is floating in front of him. Only the sound of passing cars and pedestrians can be heard here; the maze is too deep inside, and it would take the guards a while before they can get out of it.
The shadow creature bows to Hob, then it shrinks back and blends into the shadows cast by the mansion.
Hob quickly unties the bloody handkerchief and pockets it. Then he takes off his jacket with a pained grunt—he really needs to take that bullet out—and slings it over his shoulder to keep the wound out of sight and soak up any blood that might come out. He heads down the road and blends in with the other pedestrians on the crosswalk.
So, not Dream. Still, there's been no word at all from his friend. Hob sighs and walks towards the restaurant where he had parked his car.
***
"A crystal? Really?" Hob says infuriatingly at the orange pendant hanging on a hook in the empty bedroom he had broken into. The pendant is about the size of his palm, and inside it he can see the silhouette of a humanoid figure, who just shrugs at Hob's exasperation.
Hob quickly turns the pages of his notes to find what he can use to free someone from a crystal. Jo mentioned some general unbinding incantations on that night they went to the factory. One of them must work.
He tries them one after the other, even combining a few, but to no avail. He huffs out a breath and looks at the creature. The silhouette was sitting cross-legged inside the crytal, it looks like its arms are crossed. Hob can't see its facial features but it almost seems bored.
"I don't suppose you can help me in any way? I'm not sure if I can take this crystal outside the premises without harming either of us."
The bedroom door opens and reveals a very surprised man in a business suit.
Hob looks back at the crystal. "Never mind, let's go." He grabs the cord and wears it on his arm, holding the pendant tight in his fist.
"Hey—!" The man steps forward but Hob shoves him as he runs past and out into the corridor.
"Guards!"
Always with the guards. Hob turns a corner and finds a door in front of him and a balcony to his right. He's only on the second storey, but he doesn't wanna risk breaking his neck jumping from that height. Maybe that room has a window with a respectable ledge outside he can climb out of. He runs to the door. Locked. He can probably try to break it down but—
"Stop!" a warning shot fires into the air.
"Oh, bugger," Hob curses under his breath, looking at the balcony.
He sprints for it, ducking as bullets zoom past him.
Hob closes the glass balcony doors behind him and looks around for anything that might help him climb down. There's a pillar to his left overgrown with vines, and down below a few shrubberies that might soften his fall marginally if he's lucky enough.
He swings a leg over the railing as the balcony doors burst open and three guards pour in. He leaps onto the pillar, grabbing at vines that are much thinner than they look. A guard leans forward and tries to take hold of his arm but he's already sliding down, tearing down vines and leaves and going far too quickly than he'd like.
Branches scratch at his face, and he's sure some of his fingernails are bleeding from how he's scrabbling for purchase on the stone pillar. He tries to jump down to the ground, but he doesn't quite time it right and his legs give out beneath him, sending him rolling inelegantly across the garden like a thrown rock.
He takes a few seconds to catch his breath, staring at the clouds above being coloured a soft orange by the setting sun. He looks at the pendant still in his hand. The silhouette is standing up, its hands pressed to the surface of the crystal as if eager to get out.
He hears footsteps coming towards him, and he unsteadily gets to his feet. He's too far away from his planned escape route, but he can take a few bullets while running as long as they don't shoot his head or something.
"Hob Gadling."
He jumps at the sound of the voice, and he turns to see Dream standing right beside him, a frown creasing his otherwise smooth forehead.
"Dream!" Hob can hear the relief in his voice, and he knows what a sight he must be right now, grinning like a fool with cuts all over his face. "We have to get out of here. They—"
Dream waves a hand and the air ripples around them. "They shall not perceive us."
The guards arrive and run around the garden looking confused. One of them says that the intruder might have gotten out already, and they all rush outside the gate to give chase.
"Give me the crystal."
Hob wordlessly hands it over, still staring at his friend who has finally shown up again.
Dream speaks in a language that feels otherworldy, making goosebumps crawl across Hob's skin and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
The crystal shatters into orange mist, and suddenly a fae creature is standing beside Dream. Her blue hair is cut short like a pixie's, and her eyes glitter in different colours much like her dress.
"Lord Shaper." She bows deeply to Dream, her voice reminding Hob of a soft breeze blowing through windchimes. "My thanks to you. And your friend." She smiles at Hob, eyes twinkling with interest. "Who is he? If I may ask."
Dream looks at her, his eyes narrowing a fraction. "He is mine. You may go now."
Something skips in Hob's chest with the way Dream answered, but he decides not to dwell on that for now.
The fae bows again. "I will tell my kin of your kindness. We owe you a boon, Lord Shaper." She straightens up and slowly turns into a swirl of orange and green leaves, floating into the air and scattering in the wind.
"As for you, Hob Gadling…"
Dream summons his sand and a gust of wind causes it to surround them both. There's a swooping sensation in Hob's stomach, and when the sand disappears they're both standing in his living room.
"How did you know where I was?" Hob asks in awe.
"It is Spirit Night at your pub. You were not there. I persuaded your sources to tell me where you had gone."
Hob can only imagine how intimidated they must have been when Dream suddenly arrived. Though Hob had a feeling that they knew why he was going on all these missions, so hopefully they didn't need much persuading before they told Dream where he went.
"Tell me. Why go out of your way to attend to these endeavours? I seem to recall you saying that you are actively avoiding a dangerous life this century," he says in a tone that was unmistakeably disapproving.
"Ah. Well…" Hob tugs at his ear. He can feel the scratches and bruises all over his body, but they all seem distant compared to the nervousness he feels at having to explain to Dream why he'd done it. "I couldn't risk any of them being you."
Surprise flashes on Dream's face. "What?"
"Yeah." Hob brushes dirt and leaves off his clothes just to give his hands something to do. He'd have to vacuum those later. "I'd avoided all sorts of magic things, after the 1600s. So when I heard that Burgess had a 'devil' locked in his basement, I steered far away from it. And I…" He makes himself look at Dream. "I didn't wanna make that mistake again."
Dream's lips are parted, but he can't seem to form any words. He looks so soft like this, and Hob has to resist the urge to reach out and touch his face.
"Hob. What happened then was not your fault, and I would not have you risk capture or harm to your person just for my sake."
Hob smiles. "You said to live life as I choose, right? Well I choose to always be there for my friend. You'll just have to deal with it."
"I am serious, Hob."
"So am I," Hob can't help the edge to his voice. His entire body still hurts from jumping off a balcony, and he can't believe that Dream still doesn't realise how much he's cared for. "It's been four months, Dream, without a single word from you. How was I supposed to know if you're still okay? Maybe my method now is a bit stupid to you, but at least it's different from sitting on my arse doing nothing for more than a century while you're imprisoned."
Dream purses his lips. "I did not say it is stupid. I just… worry."
Hob softens at that. He knows it isn't easy for Dream to admit to such sentiments. "And you're allowed to do that, just like I'm allowed to worry about you when I haven't heard from you in a while." A pang of pain shoots up his side and he winces, clutching at his ribs. He must have bruised them pretty badly.
"You are hurt." Dream steps forward, frowning in concern.
"This should heal in a few minutes," Hob tries for a smile but just manages a grimace. He walks—limps—towards the couch and gingerly sits down.
"You should not have gone through all that trouble. Any of it." Dream sits beside him.
Hob shakes his head. "It's no trouble, Dream. Not for me. Anyway, are things all right in your realm now? I'm not taking you away from your duties, am I?"
Dream frowns. "My realm is fine. Do not deflect, Hob Gadling. Will you keep doing this every time I am away?"
"If I keep hearing news about magical creatures being captured, and if I don't hear from you during that time, yeah," Hob shrugs. "It's not like I can die."
"Neither can I, and yet you persist in worrying."
Hob chuckles. "Yeah, okay, you got me there." He leans his head back against the backrest, closing his eyes as he feels some of his injuries heal up. He didn't seem to have broken any bones, fortunately.
"I do not understand," Dream says quietly, and when Hob opens his eyes to look at him, he seems genuinely confused. "You know of the Sleeping Sickness that happened when I was captured. As long as nothing of that nature is happening here in the Waking, you should feel reassured that I have not been captured once more. This all seems… unnecessary."
Hob sighs and stares at his ceiling. Maybe it's because he feels like Dream needs to know. Maybe he hit his head too hard on the ground earlier. Or maybe he's just never meant to make wise decisions. Whatever the reason, he hears himself say the words.
"I love you, Dream." He keeps his eyes on the ceiling, seeing Dream in his periphery but not daring yet to look at his expression. "It's not unnecessary to me."
The minutes tick by and Hob is hearing nothing but his own breathing.
Dream remains silent for long enough that Hob finally looks at him.
Dream is staring somewhere in the middle distance, his shoulders are tense, and there's an uncertainty in his eyes. "I am not sure I understand that either," he says quietly before meeting Hob's gaze. "Why you love me."
Something aches in Hob's chest at that. He sits up properly to face Dream, and he very nearly almost reaches out. To do what, he doesn't know.
"But." Dream lowers his eyes. "I am… happy. That you do." He looks at Hob again.
Hob exhales in relief and smiles. "Right then. So just let me do this, yeah?"
Dream is quiet again for a few moments. "Will you let me do the same thing?"
Hob furrows his eyebrows. "Do what?"
Dream leans forward and reaches out to Hob's hair. "Will you let me love you, Hob Gadling?" He plucks out a leaf and drops it to the floor, before looking at Hob again.
Hob feels like his heart is thumping wildly behind his newly-healed ribs, and it's hard to breathe, let alone speak. "Dream… You… What…"
Dream gives a small smile. "I am afraid I might be out of practice, but I would like to try. With you."
"Y-You're not just saying that because I said…?"
"While I was away attending to my duties, I found myself frequently wishing that I could simply return to you. There were times when I wished I had a mundane human job, that I might go to you once my working hours were done."
It's Hob's turn to be speechless. He never once thought that he even crossed Dream's mind the entire time he was away.
"When I arrived at your Inn and learned what you had gone to do, I surprised myself with how much I worried. Even knowing that you cannot die, I could not bear the thought of you being taken and out of my reach. I would tear down any walls that would dare keep you from me." His gaze haven't left Hob's, and those brilliant blue eyes burn with an intensity that Hob is all too happy to be devoured by.
Hob swallows, trying to clamp down on the wave of emotions surging within him. He wasn't prepared for this. He's dreamt about this, definitely, but what is he supposed to do now that it's happening? What if he makes a mistake and—
Dream touches his face, a light caress of thumb over cheekbone, fingers a grounding presence on his jaw. He leans forward, slowly, giving Hob plenty of time to move away.
Hob takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes as he bridges the gap between them.
Dream's lips are soft, and warm, and so careful with him. The kiss lingers for a few precious heartbeats, and then Dream is pulling away. Hob chases after him before he can think about it, and suddenly there's more.
Their lips slide against each other, and when their tongues touch for the first time Hob inhales sharply and something fierce and urgent pools in his belly. His hands find themselves in Dream's hair, and then Dream's hands are on his waist and their knees are in the way and Hob wants and needs—
Dream gasps and breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against Hob's as he catches his breath.
"Are you alright?" Hob asks, lightheaded and breathless himself. He pulls back a little to look at Dream. "I didn't hurt you, did I…?" He looks at his hands on Dream's shoulders.
"Your daydreams." There are spots of red high on Dream's cheekbones. "Are loud."
Hob feels his face flush. "Ah."
"You are still injured." Dream looks at him up and down with a frown of concern.
"Well, don't let that stop you," Hob quips. "The worst thing that can happen is you accidentally kill me, but then I'll pop right back up and we can continue."
The corner of Dream's mouth turns up in a smile and Hob wants to kiss him all over again. "Will you be amenable to continue instead in the Dreaming? In my home. There you will not be limited by a physical body. And neither will I." The promising glint in his eye makes Hob's heart rate pick up again.
"Yes," Hob breathes, his hands tightening their hold on Dream.
There's something sharp and excited in Dream's smirk as he pushes Hob down on the couch. He looms over Hob and kisses him with a newfound confidence, and Hob slowly feels his body relaxing as his mind slips into the Dreaming.
---
Notes
Thank you for reading! I had a lot of fun writing this~
Brought to Rome as the son of a servant, Hob is exiled as punishment for his father's crime, only to return years later as a gladiator, and a crowd favorite at that.
Emperor Morpheus hates coming to gladiator matches, and yet this one looks incredibly familiar... could it be the love he thought he'd never see again?
Fills @mr-sadman Sadman week prompts Et tu, Brutus
We're a day late but that's fine because this is more than twice as long as I thought it would be :D title is Latin for 'with you I am free"
Inspired by multiple watches of Gladiator and Gladiator II as well as a naughty audio on Soundgasm, started in June while on vacation and finally finished for Sadman Week. Enjoy!
Dream/Hob/Nuala | Explicit | Chapter 1 of 6 | Human AU, specifically ren faire AU, mutual pining, getting together, happily ever after | Ao3 link
Ultimately this was inspired by more than half of the @mr-sadman Sadman Week prompts but there’s so many parts to it that I am simply going to post it over the course of the week.
“Nuala!” Hob exclaims, bursting into her tent and pulling her into a hug that sweeps her off her feet.
“Put me down, you great lump, you’ll ruin my wings.”
Hob laughs as she slaps his back, but does set her down again, careful to make sure she’s got her balance before letting go.
“I missed you too, Hob,” he says. “You’re the highlight of my faire every year. I love seeing your handsome face in person instead of messaging you a hundred times a day.”
Nuala sticks her tongue out at him. Hob laughs again, warm eyes crinkling at the corners.
It is a handsome face. She’s not going to tell him that.
She has missed him, too. Misses him more every year.
“Have you seen the new bloke from the bird sanctuary this year?”
“Is it not Ethel again? I love her, she gives me cakes.”
Hob snorts. “You’re anyone’s for food,” he says. “Not Ethel, who the grapevine tells me is enjoying her fiftieth wedding anniversary in Majorca, and good luck to her. But I don’t think you’ll be disappointed when you see him.” He grins. “He’s what you’d call a ride.”
