#mytumblrsandmanfics

[honeyteacakes]

For the soft prompts, 34!

34. odd socks

(from this prompt list, requests always welcome! 💖)

Of all the ways that Dream could wind up naked in his apartment, Hob had never quite envisioned...... this.

Dream had shown up on the doorstep on his flat, soaked through to the bone, after apparently having been kicked out of his "realm" by his "librarian" because of the "weather." Hob understood all those words individually, even if they didn't quite make sense to him in the ways that Dream had used them. Though parsing Dream's meaning had seemed less important than trying to comfort the man, who looked nearly on the verge of tears when Hob opened the door. So Hob had pulled him inside and ushered him into his bathroom, arms full of dry towels and soft clothes scavenged from Hob's own wardrobe.

So Dream was naked. Probably. Behind the bathroom door in Hob's flat, changing into Hob's clothes. And Hob was trying very, very hard to be as normal about that as possible.

He distracts himself by putting the kettle on, by putting together a plate of biscuits and steeping the tea. He would try to persuade Dream to eat, to see if he could get him to open up about what exactly-

"Hob?"

Hob nearly jumps at the sound of his voice, turning to find Dream standing behind him. He's wearing the clothes that he'd been given. The band t-shirt is nearly falling off of one of his shoulders, the sweatpants hang loose around his hips and-

Hob hadn't been paying attention to the socks when he'd grabbed them.

They're bright pink. And covered with ducks.

Hob bites his lip. He doesn't particularly feel confident that Dream wouldn't take offense if he accidentally smiled at the sight, god forbid if he giggled. But Dream looks cute. Not that Hob would say that to him.

Hob presses one of the mugs of tea into Dream's hands.

"Right," he begins. "So what exactly happened in your 'realm' again?"

#dreamling fic #dreamling #mine #i had to think a while because while I can see Hob wearing odd socks. i felt like it would be funnier if Dream did it lol #thanks for the prompts! I had a lot of fun playing with the concept <3 #prompt fills #mytumblrsandmanfics

[honeyteacakes]

For the soft prompts meme: Dreamling, 17. fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear

❤️❤️

(from this prompt list, requests always welcome! 💖)

The problem, Hob supposes, is that Dream's appearance has always been... immaculate. Never a stitch or hair out of place in all of the years that Hob has known him.

Though Hob had only been able to see him once a century, and always at an appointed date, so that may have contributed to the illusion. Dream had always been thoroughly prepared for their encounters, dressed in the latest styles and manicured to perfection. Those meetings had all been indoors, and at least two of them had been shamefully brief, so- all things considered- Hob's experience with Dream's appearance has been somewhat limited. Until recently.

Now they stand together on a paved embankment overlooking the Thames. It had been a lovely afternoon, now bleeding forward into evening and dusk, and the temperate weather had motivated Hob to make the most of it. He wanted to seize what remained of the summer, and Dream had been persuaded to indulge him, to exchange their usual drinks at the Inn for a stroll along the river.

The breeze coming off of the Thames runs through Dream's dark hair- messier this century than in previous ones, and now encouraged into an unruly riot by the wind. Dream scarcely seems to notice. His eyes are closed; his face is tilted forward into the breeze, as if the sensation of it is somehow novel to him. Hob's eyes are drawn over the sharp edge of his profile, down over moon-pale skin and rose-pink lips. He's gorgeous, mesmerizingly so, which is why Hob doesn't even think. He doesn't realize that he's moved until he's already in motion. He sweeps a particularly rebellious lock of hair back behind Dream's ear.

Dream's eyes open. He glances back at Hob, just out of the corner of his eyes, as if only curious at the gesture. He says nothing, but blinks slowly, as contented as a cat, and returns his gaze to the river.

When he looks away from Hob, his lips tease at a smile.

#dreamling #dreamling fic #mine #thanks for the prompt!!! 🖤🖤🖤 #i hope this is suitably soft <3 #prompt fills #mytumblrsandmanfics

[honeyteacakes]

For the Soft™️ fic prompt meme:

30. ‘this is my husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner etc.’

With Lucienne/Gault please?

(from this prompt list, requests always welcome! 💖)

Lucienne is experimenting with a laptop. She has been experimenting with a laptop- off and on- for the past week and half. It is a beautiful device, gifted to her from the dreams of a software engineer. Dream had insisted upon it, had not allowed her to demure or turn away the gift. It has been over a century since either of them had caught up with human inventions, and he'd seemed confident that she'd be a fan of this one.

In truth, it intimidated her a bit to use the computer- so unlike other data documentation methods that she'd been familiar with for millennia- but she had a hunch that it would grow on her. Matthew agreed, of course.

"No, no- the back button hit the- the one that says delete- yeah, ok." Matthew adjusts himself where he's perched on her shoulder, bends down closer to the laptop's screen. "It would be so much easier to show you how this thing works if I had thumbs. This is like trying to explain it to my grandma over the phone."

"I am older than your grandmother," Lucienne reminds.

"Yeah, I know. Weird to think of it that way, though." Matthew nips at her ear, a playful gesture. If she had hair, she has the sense that he'd be trying to preen it. He's rather affectionate for a raven. "Ok, so now that we've opened up the browser, you're going to want to go to the bar at the top of the screen... yeah that one, and-"

"What are you working on?"

Lucienne glances up over the edge of the laptop screen. Gault is standing at the end of an aisle of shelves, a thin tome under her arm. She's been spending more time in the Library as of late in order to research her new role. She'd taken to it with gusto, and has been glowing from it. It suits her. It suits her so well that even Dream had noticed. And looking at her now, smiling as she walks toward Lucienne, it's a wonder that Lucienne's ribs don't crack open with the joy she feels on Gault's behalf.

"I'm trying to show Lucienne how to use Twitter," Matthew calls from her shoulder. His feathers plump at the mention, proud to be of use. He's sweet, and so young. Lucienne enjoys their time like this, when he's able to ramble and rant about the things most familiar to him. She has the sense that it grounds him. The rest of the Dreaming is unfamiliar, but explaining 'twitter' (whatever that is) seemed to have excited him. Lucienne may have mild trepidation about his excitement, but she doesn't want to spoil it for him.

"Oh, Jed has talked to me about that one," Gault says. She joins them at Lucienne's desk, sets the volume that she'd been carrying down on top of another precarious stack of books that Lucienne has been collecting. "He tells me he likes the 'memes' there."

"God, I miss memes," Matthew says wistfully.

"Maybe Lucienne can share them with you? When she 'tweets'?"

"I have promised no such thing," Lucienne warns. She's still only lukewarm to the whole concept of a 'web site,' but she's trying not to be too externally grumpy about the development.

Gault smacks her shoulder. "Be nice."

"I am nice," Lucienne grouses. She grabs Gault's hand from where it had stopped against her shoulder, brings it to her mouth to press a quick kiss to her palm. "I am just not sure that I will like these 'memes.'"

Matthew squawks, startled. He falls from her shoulder, but quickly rights himself and settles on her desk. He shuffles so that he stands in front of the laptop.

"What was that?" He asks, wings agitated. "What w- you're dating? Why didn't you tell me, Loosh? We're best friends."

"We're not dating, Matthew-"

The raven makes a disbelieving noise.

"- we are married. We haven't made a secret of it."

"What?"

Lucienne sighs. She forgets that mortals are strange about such things, and do not quite have the same sort of perceptions about them as older beings. She lifts Gault's hand and locks their fingers together.

"Matthew, Gault is my wife."

Matthew sputters.

"God, Loosh, way to drop a bomb. We've got to get better about the whole small talk thing. Next thing I know, you'll be saying you've got kids and a dog."

Lucienne arches an eyebrow. "Who says that I don't?"

Matthew practically chokes.

She and Gault share a look, mischief twinkling in the former nightmare's eyes. In truth, they have neither children nor pets, but Matthew doesn't need to know that. Yet.

They could have a little bit of fun first.

"Oh?" Gault says, voice all sweetness and innocence. "You hadn't heard?"

Lucienne barely restrains a smile.

This is going to be delightful.

#gaulcienne #gaulcienne drabble #mine #my writing #this was so fun!!!! <3 #thanks for the prompt 💖💖💖💖💖 #gault #lucienne the librarian #gaulcienne fic #prompt fills #mytumblrsandmanfics

[honeyteacakes]

OOOOOH could i please get 4 with Lucienne x Calliope? thank you!!

4. neck kisses

(from this prompt list, requests always welcome! 💖)

--

It had been a particularly slow day at the Library. Few denizens of the Dreaming seemed willing to trek the long path to the palace, especially during the latest heat wave. Though Lucienne was glad that her friend was... happy in his latest relationship, the weather in the realm had been insufferable since Dream had taken his latest paramour.

So Lucienne shrugs off her jacket. She cannot control the heat, but she can at least control her attire. She unbuttons the first few fastenings of her shirt, then rolls up her shirtsleeves to just past her elbows. She abandons her waistcoat at her desk with her jacket, and resumes her rounds amid the stacks.

She does not think about how she looks until Calliope comes to visit her- until her lover's gaze falls onto the skewed collar of her shirt, until her eyes trail down the length of Lucienne's body.

Lucienne is- with very little warning- pushed up against the closest book shelf and kissed senseless.

Calliope is thorough and steady and warm, a comforting weight that presses into Lucienne in all the right ways. Lucienne runs her hands down the curves of her lover's waist, admiring the solid heat of her body.

Calliope stops suddenly. Her lips curve against Lucienne's mouth, smiling. She giggles, and Lucienne smiles in response to the giddy sound of it.

Lucienne draws back, still grinning. "What?"

"Nothing," Calliope says. Her eyes sparkle with the mirth of her laughter. She leans in, plants a soft kiss against Lucienne's cheek. "I was just thinking about how lucky I am."

#this was such a cute prompt!!! #i got to project my desire to see an unbuttoned Lucienne onto Calliope 😂 #i love when characters get to be girlfriends. good for them. #calliope/lucienne #mine #prompt fills #thanks for the prompt btw <3 <3 <3 #mytumblrsandmanfics

[honeyteacakes]

I've had brainworms about the encounter between Lucienne and the Corinthian at the end of "Imperfect Hosts" since I first watched The Sandman. I couldn't resist writing about that scene from Lucienne's perspective. Also available on AO3 here.

-

In the past century or so, Lucienne has gotten very good at waiting.

She’d made a habit of holding vigil at the Gates of Ivory and Horn, looking out over the dark dunes of the outer Dreaming and searching for signs of her Lord. Her friend. So many nights she had spent under the starless sky, cold and alone in a dying realm. She had feared for a time that she might meet her end on the parapets of the Gates, that she might rest one night and crumble to dust in her slumber like so many other denizens of the Dreaming. 

But no longer.

Her patience had paid off. Only hours ago she had caught sight of an aberration in the sands. A dark cloud of dust had churned the air, and her oldest companion had been returned to her. The man to whom she had sworn her loyalty and her life, home at last. Dream. 

That had been hours ago. 

It had only taken that long for Dream to collect what he needed from the Dreaming. He’d taken his answers from the Kindly Ones and vanished. He was still weaker than he cared to admit, and it troubled Lucienne. It troubled her enough that- despite his promises for a swift return- she found herself repeating old habits. Only hours after Dream’s reappearance in the Dreaming, she was waiting for him to come home once more. 

She hated it. She hated how careless he was, how insensitive to the century she’d spent worrying for him. But it was not her place to control the Dreamlord, only to advise him. Even when he refused to see sense and listen to her. 

Infuriating, terrible, arrogant man. If he had been anyone else, she would have given him a piece of her mind long ago. 

She has exactly the words she’d like to use on the tip of her tongue when she sees it- another aberration. Relief floods her system, but only briefly. It takes less than a moment to realize this is nothing like before. There is no sandstorm on the horizon, no static charge to the air. Only dust gently rising, fragments of dreamstuff suspended over the sands until slowly a figure seems to emerge. Flesh and bone knitting themselves back together from nothingness. Like a serpent surfacing from deep water, the Corinthian returns. 

Lucienne gives him no quarter, no chance to slip back to the Waking with the belief that he has been unnoticed. She sees him exactly as she always has. 

“Oh good,” she says sweetly. She looks down to where the Corinthian lays and gasps, hands folded neatly in front of herself. “You’ve returned. And just in time, too. His Lordship will be pleased.” 

The Corinthian steadies himself, looks up to meet her gaze. He looks helpless, harmless. Charming. He affects a smile, though Lucienne knows he runs hollow all the way to his core. 

“Where is Dream?” He asks pleasantly. Cruelly. As if he is not the reason that Dream has been absent for so long. 

Lucienne feels her eye twitch. 

“He’s away. Again. For the moment.” 

Her voice is strained to her own ears. She knows the Corinthian must be able to hear her distress and rages within herself for it, for whatever weakness the Nightmare can sense on her. She does not want him to see her like this- uncertain and powerless and angry. She wants him afraid. 

When Dream is back, she’ll be certain to craft recommendations explicitly for that purpose. 

The Corinthian only smiles. 

“He’s out there looking for his tools, isn’t he?” He asks, knowing the answer. His smile widens, so cocky and self-assured that Lucienne wants to slap him. He begins to rise to his feet. 

“He will be coming back,” she promises. She does not have the authority to threaten him, but his punishment is implied. Even if the Corinthian doesn’t seem to register it, she knows he isn’t stupid. He knows the position that he’s put himself in. 

“Well, then, I’d better get a move on.” He straightens the lapel of his jacket and turns his back to her. He prepares to leave, as if such behavior would ever be acceptable- 

“Where are you going?” She calls after him.

“Back to the waking world.” He spins on his heel to face her, moves with carefree flourish. It reminds her somewhat of dancing, but she quickly banishes the thought. “To freedom. You should try it sometime.” 

“Dreams and Nightmares do not belong in the waking world,” she replies sharply. 

“Oh.” The Corinthian shrugs, still stepping lightly away from her. “Turns out I fit right in.” 

She shouldn’t be surprised- isn’t surprised in the slightest, in fact. Only disgusted.

“Have you no loyalty to your creator?” 

This blow- finally- lands. The Corinthian stops in his tracks.

“Why should I?” He snaps. “He has no loyalty to us.” 

“You misunderstand him, Corinthian.” 

“Oh no, I see him for what he is.” The Corinthian stalks forward. He is a Nightmare, for all that he may pretend otherwise in the human world, and his nature will always rise to his surface. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you, or me.” 

Lucienne flinches. He has touched on her fear, an old fear, one that has haunted her nights for millennia- that Dream is as distant and uncaring as a star. The rational part of her knows it to be false- or else must force herself to believe that it is- but that does not stop her automatic emotional reaction. It is an error on her part, an opening that the Corinthian is only too willing to take advantage of. 

“He only cares about himself.” The Corinthian advances further, draws closer. “His kingdom. Well, he can have it. ‘Cause I am leaving.” He stops only inches in front of her. “And I am never coming back.”

Lucienne hardens her posture. She refuses to be cowed. 

“He will come after you.” 

The Corinthian leans forward till she can feel his breath as he speaks. She averts her face instinctively, compelled by the animal impulse to draw back from that which threatens, but she refuses to lose her composure. Her expression remains as cold as the air between them. 

“Well then, if he does, he won’t be coming back either.” 

He holds himself still and close, daring. Lucienne does not hesitate further. She turns her eyes to meet his and returns the challenge. One heartbeat, two, they stand locked with locked gazes, then the Corinthian breaks away. He walks from Lucienne, from the Gates, and into the vast abstractions beyond. 

“You can’t change him,” he calls over his shoulder. Dust begins to rise from the ground, drawing tighter and tighter around the Nightmare as he’s pulled through into the waking world. “You can’t save him, either.” 

Then he’s gone. 

Lucienne stands alone on the sands, looking out over immense gray dunes that run straight into the horizon. Ahead of her is dark and barren. Behind her stand the Gates. For a moment she can only stare at the place where the Corinthian had been. She is unmoored, mind buffeted between the wind and the walls. A single frozen moment, and now she is as alone as she has ever been. All over again. 

Her heart drops in her chest. 

She closes her eyes. She forces herself to breathe deeply against the thought, then lets it go. It is of no use to her to think in such a way. 

She turns her back to the desolate wasteland. She walks from the sand as dark as ash and the wind that howls. The Gates open before her, and the broken spires of the castle rise over the hills and valleys revealed by them. They will not remain broken for long. She is certain of it. Her Lord has returned; Dream has returned. 

She has work to do. 

#mine #lucienne (sandman) #the corinthian #corinthienne #lucienne x the corinthian #my fic #my writing #mytumblrsandmanfics

[honeyteacakes]

29. pet names for LuciCori pretty pls 👉👈

(from this prompt list, requests always welcome! 💖)

It's late when he finds her in the stacks.

Her back is toward him. She's moving books from a trolley to spaces on a shelf, as if she'd checked out multiple volumes on a single person and is now returning them to their proper places. The Corinthian wonders if it's research for the Dreamlord or if she's merely satisfying her own curiosity. She speaks of it rarely, but she has... an appetite for the dreamers. An appetite all her own. Not the same as his pacing hunger for their lives, or Morpheus's innate need for their minds, but a specific taste for the beating hearts at the centers of the dreams that fuel the realm.

It is one of her few vices. She engages in her private curiosity very rarely, but the Corinthian is almost entirely confident that he's caught her in the act.

He walks up behind her slowly, places his hands on her lower back and slides them down to her hips. She doesn't even startle, only sighs lightly and leans back into his touch.

The Corinthian leans over her shoulder, teases her in a low voice: "What are you up to, little bird?"

#corinthienne #lucicori #mine #corinthienne fic #prompt fills #I hope that you like this!!! #I was thinking about this while making dinner earlier lol #thanks for the prompt <3 #mytumblrsandmanfics

[honeyteacakes]

for the soft fic prompt meme, i can choose just one so im offering up 3, your choice:

9. shoulder kisses

16. laughing while kissing

or! 30. ‘this is my husband/wife/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner etc.’

(from this prompt list, requests always welcome! 💖)

Hob is still laughing when Dream pushes him out of the Library.

"Lucienne," Dream says grimly, though his eyes are still sparkling with mirth. "Will not be letting us make use the library again unattended. For quite a while."

"Worth it," Hob says. He's buoyed forward by his own laughter, caught in the current of Dream's amused smile. He pulls Dream close again, kisses him nearly senseless in the hallway just beyond the Library's doors.

He thinks that they'll be back in the Library again eventually. They'll just have to learn how not to get caught.

#very very short but this is where my brain chose to end this #prompt fills #dreamling #mine #just short and soft and sweet #💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 #mytumblrsandmanfics

[honeyteacakes]

Soft asks : 9 for Corinthienne? 🥺

9. shoulder kisses

(from this prompt list, requests always welcome! 💖)

--

It's easier to touch her in the afterglow.

Lucienne practically melts beneath his kisses, still slow and languid in the aftermath. They're both sticky with sweat, but the Corinthian barely cares. Those sorts of details are distractions and this- the satisfied way that Lucienne presses up into his touch- is limited. It will only be a few minutes until Lucienne returns more fully to herself, until she begins again to order the work of the Dreaming in her mind and pushes Cori off to return to the labors of the Library.

But now, in this moment, he can pretend that she is his. He can pretend that they have time to go slow, to exchange soft kisses without worry.

His mouth wanders. He's gentle, undemanding. He presses kisses everywhere he can reach: her lips, her chin, her cheeks. Then down the path of her neck. A nip at her clavicle. A peppering of closed-mouth kisses over one of her shoulders.

She giggles at his attentions. (He thinks she might be ticklish. Not that she would ever do something so undignified as admit to being ticklish.) The Corinthian smiles at the sound, presses the curve of his mouth into her shoulder once more.

He wonders what he could do to keep her close like this- just for a little bit longer. Just for as long as she'd be willing to give him.

He'll take whatever he can get.

#Corinthienne #very very fun to write this #i love being soooooo delusional about them #they're so cool and fun and kjdshgfkjhadsgkfjhkadgs #thanks for the prompt <3 #prompt fills #mine #mytumblrsandmanfics