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dotieeee · 2 years ago

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The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 16

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

graphic dub-con ahead - turn back now if this disturbs you :)

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

pregnancy angst

reader is a walking ball of angst at this point lol

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 16: Vanilla Ice Cream and Cheese

The lovely scents of lavender and patchouli pervade the Dream King’s bathroom, and they’re coming from the warm bath that Morwyn had just drawn and prepared for you before she left to prepare your dress. Now completely alone with nothing but your intrusive thoughts, you reach the ornate, full-length mirror, and right in front of it, you shed your sheer nightgown, staring at yourself, stark-naked, your eyes automatically honing on your abdomen. Like what you have been doing absently for the past three weeks, your hand hovers over your belly, rubbing it as if seeking to soothe your inner turmoil.

It’s been three weeks since your dreaming-abilities have been reinstated, which also means the life inside you that the Dream Lord had placed is also of the same age. You wonder how he’s doing inside, what he looks like, how he’s holding up. So far, he hasn’t made himself known yet - not that you expected him to, not for another two, maybe three weeks more. Before you know it, he’ll grow big and snug inside, and then he’ll be out into the world and you’ll be cradling him in your arms, and he’ll be clinging unto you, looking to you for anything and everything: he will seek milk from your bosom, he will crave your touch and your warmth, your kind words, your love.

As if doubling in pain, you fall on the floor in a foetal position, and what starts out as a small, choked sob becomes a wail that bounces off the bathroom tiles and walls. You clutch your chest as you bawl and scream heavily for reasons muddled, even to you - was it because he’s here, and you’ll soon feel his little heartbeat alongside yours? Does being a mother frighten you that much? Will he hate you when he finds out he’s been conceived so unwillingly, not out of love despite the facade you’d have to put up to save him from all the hurt his father had put you through?

There is no comfort from these thoughts, especially not when the Dream Lord himself wraps your bare, trembling form with his own, starry cloak and picks you up from the floor so he could take you in his arms in an unrelenting embrace that to him, means to console - to you, however, it’s just a prison, just another cage he’s placing you in as he tangles your strings of fate further into his. And yet, there is no one else around you but him, and so in the lull of his soft whispers and the warmth of his grip, you eventually tire out and your crying wanes to that of mere sniffling, he takes his robe off you gently and carries you to the bathtub. The water, which has already gone tepid, begins to steam lightly once more, indicating that he had warmed it up for you. He lowers you to the water with so much care, and without shedding his clothes, he follows suit, helping you bathe like he did the morning after your first night with him, except, thankfully, he doesn’t pleasure you - it’s an act of pure intentions it seems, as hard as that may be to believe. Once he’s done, he wordlessly steps away, his clothes already dry, and conjures a robe and a towel and sets it on the edge of the tub, now empty of water. He sits on the edge as well, close to you, while you hug your knees in your modesty (as if he hasn’t seen every inch of you). With delicate grace, he caresses your cheek with a finger, and you avoid looking directly into those blue eyes, fearing what you might find.

“Mera, my dream, will you be alright if I leave you to dry up?” he asks quietly.

You give him the tiniest of nods as you stare blankly at the porcelain at your feet. He lingers for a moment, as if hesitating, but in the end, he gives you a kiss on the top of your head and steps out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Once you step out of the bathroom, you find your Dream Lord hunched over on the study table, inspecting the books you had borrowed from the library. His eyes roam your robed figure for a moment before walking over to you, satisfied with what he sees. He calls for Morwyn, who promptly emerges from behind the room divider, and then gives you a chaste kiss on the lips.

“I will wait here. We will talk,” he says after he pulls away.

Morwyn bows to him and escorts you behind the divider so she could dress you in private. She makes an expert work of your gown - a form-fitting satin gown with long, delicate tulle sleeves gathered in tiers with silk ribbons - and in no time, she excuses herself, leaving you and your Lord alone in the chambers you now share.

So, there you awkwardly stand, awaiting what he has to say. Once you notice that almost-imperceptible sigh, you brace yourself.

“It seems you are unwell, dream of mine,” he notes, stepping closer to you so he could tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ears. “What ails you in this lovely morning?”

You only shake your head in response, as the answer evades you, too.

With the smallest of smiles, his hands find their way to your waist, his thumbs rubbing tender circles on your belly. “Is our child giving you trouble?”

“No, my Lord -”

But he cuts you off with a finger to your lips. “Did I not tell you to call me by my name? Do you not recall freely using my name in the heat of our love-making?” he jests lightly.

His attempts to tease are lost on you, given you’re in no mood for such, but you give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your ears.

“My apologies, Lord Morpheus,” you amend.

“That’s better,” he says, grinning wider as he strokes your abdomen and takes your cheek in his palms. He has always been touchy, but he’s recently taken to placing his hands on you even more so at every opportunity.

“I should like the mother of my own child to address me with familiarity. And if he is making a fuss, that is perhaps because he takes after you. He will be a force of nature once he comes out, and he will be, as you are to me, the bringer of my joy.”

You close your eyes as he dips his head and kisses your forehead before moving to your lips. It’s a chaste kiss, but his lips pull away, a mere millimetres away from yours as he breathes your air, rendering you lightheaded.

“You will stay in our chambers for the remainder of the day.”

Abruptly, you open your eyes and pull away from him completely, bristling at his command.

“Lord Morpheus, please reconsider, I have a dreamer -”

“Who can wait,” he interrupts one more in a clipped manner, his gaze growing sterner by the second.

You rub your face with your palms in your distress before pleading your case again and telling him the truth.

“Lord Morpheus, I’d be more distraught if I stayed here all day, I’ve got to do something,” you implore him, and with a gesture you know he couldn’t resist, you take his hand in yours and reassure him, “Our little one will be fine, and so will I.”

His stare softens considerably as he contemplates your request, and in acquiescence, he kisses the hand holding his and uses it to pull you close to him. You close your eyes as he captures your lips in a sensual kiss, priming yourself for what you know is about to come.

“Then indulge me, my dream: I must have you now,” your Lord whispers hotly in your ear before his tongue laps up the skin on the crook of your neck, his hands quickly hiking up the hem of your gown.

You really shouldn’t have held his hand.

***

Frantically, you straighten the kinks on your dress as you make your way down the massive marble staircase. You’re quite late to work, and you know it - it doesn’t help that you could barely walk because your boss had just decided to fuck the daylights out of you on his study table this early in the morning. You could still feel his seed damping your underwear which he strictly ordered you not to clean off.

“I’d like my dream to go about her day filled to the brim with her king’s essence,” you remember him growling over your ear as he filled you with his warmth.

So here you are, reaching the end of the staircase and about to take a sharp turn, when you hear the voice of Morwyn in a tone you never heard her use before.

“...you oughta be ashamed of yourselves, tattling about when you two should be at work!” You hear her furious tone, clearly reprimanding someone you couldn’t see. “Don’t you go spreading false rumours, or I’ll tell the King and he’ll have your tongue. The princess is far more virtuous than any of you combined,” she hisses just as you emerge from the corner.

Cowering before her are two of your Lord’s dreams, already looking at their feet in shame - they must’ve heard you approach, for they look up to see you, and you get a glimpse of their pale faces before they bow deeply and excuse themselves from your attendant’s ire and run away from the scene.

“Morwyn, what was that about?” you ask curiously, taking note of her fuming expression.

She releases a huff and responds, “M’lady, they were just gossiping, really, awful stuff. And slacking off.”

You might not be the smartest person in the world, but you know enough to conclude the topic of the rumour. “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

“Well, uh…” Morwyn hesitates, but your exasperated smile encourages her to go on. “Yes, m’lady. I heard them talking about how they think you, uhm…”

“They think that I…?”

“Slept with the king to get ahead, m’lady,” she murmurs, shuffling her feet awkwardly.

You place a hand on her shoulder, touched that she had defended your honour the way she did.

“You have a good heart, Morwyn, and thank you for telling me,” you praise. “And as for the rumour, I’m quite used to it, actually. They’ve been at it even before the Dream King’s century-long departure,” you add with a shrug.

Morwyn looks up at you with a despondent expression, clearly still upset on your behalf. “But, if they’re talking about you that way, we oughta tell the King so he could do something about it…”

“No,” you say with a firm tone and shake of your head, your expression turning serious. “He will not be kind to them if he finds out.” Unwillingly, in your mind, you see Nuros’ face, a long-forgotten dream whom you’ve never seen again after the Dream Lord’s supposed ‘talk’ with her.

“He can be cruel, especially about anything that concerns me, and he will be unless he does not find out.”

“I understand, m’lady,” she says with a bow, before adding determinedly, “But if I ever hear them again, I’m making no promises.”

You chuckle lightly at her remark while she opens her mouth and closes it again, as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.

“You know, you can tell me anything, right?”

She gives a small nod, before starting, “You’re the only one who’s ever treated me nicely, m’lady. The other dreams look down on me because even though the Dream Lord created me, I was never given dream-forming abilities.” She pauses, wringing her hands in front of her. “So thank you for treating me like…like I’m not different.”

Your heart clenches at her revelation, so to comfort her, you clasp both her hands in yours. “But you aren’t different, Morwyn. We all have a function to fulfil. And so far, you’ve been fulfilling them beyond expectations. Pay the rumours no mind and they’ll get tired eventually.

“Now if you get pushed, you can always tell them to fuck off. Come to me anytime you need anyone to talk to,” ” you add with a wink, knowing very well how it feels to have no one on your side.

“Thank you, m’lady. You have my loyalty, as always.”

Bowing deeply once more, she excuses herself, leaving you feeling like you just gained another treasured friend.

Maybe an eternity here isn’t so bad with them around.

***

The throne room basks in the magnificent glow of the sunlight streaming through thousands of stained window panels that mirror the feelings of its sovereign. The King in question, currently at his full height at the foot of the winding stairs, his eyes focusing on nothing but the vibrant display of the glass behind his throne - his perfect dream and perfect nightmare, showcased side-by-side, their colour palettes contrasting and complementing each other.

The King of Dreams has many things occupying his mind, his little dream and the little one inside her being two of them. You, probably on your way to the sea of dreams to grace a lucky dreamer with your inspiring presence - the mother of his child, both of them so precious and so fragile, braving the wonders and the horrors of the human collective unconscious. And if he was being honest with himself, you being out there, exposed and vulnerable to humanity’s depravity, deeply unsettles him.

The tall, arched double doors to his throne room burst open, and the panels rapidly transform to only the likeness of the nightmare that he had just summoned. The Dream Lord turns to his feet to face him as he strides forward and halts a few feet away from the foot of the stairs.

“You called, my Lord?” the nightmare drawls lazily, placing his hands in his pocket.

“Corinthian,” Morpheus acknowledges his presence with a slight tilt of his head, using his sand to lock the doors and prevent any wayward being from eavesdropping. “Watch over the princess in the sea of dreams. Ensure that no harm befall her and my son.”

The Corinthian pauses momentarily as he raises an eyebrow. “So, now I'm supposed to babysit her, and the new nightmare?” he asks slowly as if trying to process the words of his master’s command.

“Sumnio will do fine on his own,” Dream replies with a dismissive tone. “The princess is infinitely more important.”

“She's not gonna like this,” the Corinthian comments under his breath. Morpheus hears it, of course, but he chooses to ignore it. Scratching his head with a lone finger, he adds, a bit louder this time, “And with all due respect, my Lord, I think she is more than capable of handling herself.”

It’s the King’s turn to raise his eyebrow; of course, he knows just how capable he had made you to be, but you also had this incredible proclivity to attract trouble, given your not-so-recent brush with a certain mortal man. He chooses to hide this observation, as he always does - he just clasps his hands in front of him, keeping his blank mask.

“My concern is simply of her well-being and that of our child, whom she bears. She will come to terms with it.”

Releasing a defeated sigh, the Corinthian relents. No point arguing with him, especially about you.

“Have it your way, your ma-jes-ty.” He retreats to exit the same way he came in.

It doesn’t escape Morpheus the way his nightmare addressed him tauntingly. He ignores that, too, his stare boring a hole in the back of his creation’s head. As an afterthought, he chooses to give him a second order.

“Corinthian,” he calls, his booming voice echoing in the throne room.

His nightmare turns sideways with a huff. “Yes? My Lord?”

“Keep her away from him,” he says simply, not bothering to elaborate.

The nightmare just dips his head, indicating that he recognized his master’s meaning.

“Of course, your Majesty.”

The doors close behind him with a resounding boom as he left, and Morpheus had expected his worries to go away with him.

Instead, he plops down on his throne with a sigh, his concern for you growing more than ever.

***

The large operating room provides quite the spectacle: the fabled surgeon, elbows-deep in the guts of a patient under anaesthesia and the crowd of medical students keenly observing the master at work - but your eyes are glued to the face of seven-year-old Ida Fisher in her thirty-five-year-old body, concentrating hard on the patient whose life hangs in the balance. The entire room awaits with bated breath, and the only noise that permeates is the quiet beeping of the life monitor. The dream you had formed from the beginning had blossomed into a fully-realised fantasy of little Ida’s future career, so you grin under your medical mask and pat yourself on the back for a job well done.

Not wanting to draw attention to yourself, you slowly back away until you reach the door and promptly exit. Swinging the door open with care, you see other students crowding the observation glass, all craning their necks to get a glimpse of Ida’s medical expertise. As soon as the door closes, however, you hear a familiar voice call you over the dream-hospital’s PA system.

“Calling the princess to ICU, calling the princess to ICU.”

You shake your head in mild amusement as you make your way to the Intensive Care ward, passing through the dream-nurses and dream-patients Ida’s mind has conjured. You push the double doors, which swing shut behind you, to find your favourite nightmare, clad in the same blue scrubs as yours, down to the tinted medical goggles and the rubber clogs doctors seem to fancy so much.

Pulling your medical mask back down, you greet him with a smirk. “If this was the last view I’d get under the knife, I don’t think I’d want to wake up.”

“You wish,” The Corinthian bites back with a grin matching yours, adjusting his medical gloves as you both pace the sterile hall.

“So, to what do I owe this visit?” you ask, waving your hand to instantly get rid of your hospital gear.

He clicks his tongue at the change, saying in mock disappointment, “I liked you better with the scrubs on.”

You roll your eyes at him and jest, “You know, some of us have actual work to do?”

He lets out a chuckle as he steals a clipboard from an unwitting dream-nurse, flipping over the chart before chucking it behind him. “You're not going to like this bit.”

“No, I already don't. What is it?”

He stops before a room labelled ‘Supply Room,’ and you follow him wordlessly inside, locking the door for good measure.

“Guess who his royal prickness assigned to be your bodyguard,” he states, leaning on a cabinet filled with IV bags.

“The fuck?” you blurt out, waiting for him to take it back, only for him to give you a smug look. “Oh, bloody hell. Why did I not see this coming? What about Sumnio?”

“Says he'll do fine without me,” your friend quips as he lights up a cigarette, not caring if he triggers the smoke alarm.

You run your hands through your hair in slight aggravation. You don’t actually mind him hanging around with you while you work - what you take offence to is the fact that your Dream Lord thinks you still need to be watched over like you’re some dainty little fairy. Like you had not proven time and again your ability to weasel your way out of sticky situations.

“I'm not weak and I don't need protection,” you protest to him.

He just nods as he takes a deep drag out of his cigarette, clearly as unamused as you are. “Yep, told him that.”

“I don't like this.”

“Told him that, too.”

You bite the insides of your cheeks, annoyed at this development. A few seconds of silence pass between you and your friend as you process your ‘workplace dissatisfaction’ together.

“So, are you going to follow me around in the dreams, now?” you ask tentatively.

“Fuck, no. I got better things to do,” he responds coolly. “Just don’t get yourself in trouble,” he adds as an afterthought while he extinguishes the flame of his half-finished cigarette on the shelf and flicks it away.

“And…if he asks?”

“Tch. I’ll think of something. Anyway,” your friend straightens his scrubs, preparing to be on his way. “I’ve got to run.”

“Off to your nightmare boyfriend?” you ask, batting your eyelashes in mock innocence.

He lets out a dry, clipped laugh and pulls a scalpel out of his scrub pocket, brandishing it at you. “Keep at it and I might just use this on you.”

“Where are you going, dressed like that, anyway?” you question him curiously.

“Another hospital dream, I guess. Not much blood here, I miss it.”

He motions farewell with a two-finger salute, his usual fashion, and you call out ‘say ‘hi’ to your dear little nightmare for me’ as he vanishes, managing an enthusiastic middle finger at you just as he moves on to another dreamer.

You’re done with Ida Fisher, so you follow suit, letting yourself get sucked into the ocean of dreams before it throws you into the mind of another sleeping human.

***

Two more eventful weeks pass for you - two tumultuous weeks of the infamous morning sickness, sudden mood changes, and weird food cravings (currently, you’ve been shovelling down soggy, sugar-frosted corn flakes and eating lemon curd by the spoonful), and surprisingly, your Dream King has been nothing but sympathetic, even indulging you and accompanying you when you wake up in the middle of the night to raid the kitchens for something to munch on.

He was there, this morning, holding your hair back as you retched what remained of last night’s kitchen raid, cooing words of comfort. After that nasty bout of hurling until your stomach cramped, he had attempted to bring up the topic of you staying in his chambers for the rest of the day, but you weren’t in the mood for arguing - instead, you shot him a reproachful look, and he actually ended up relenting, much to your astonishment.

But, all this came with a price: he has been more handsy with you as of late, and he’s gotten rougher, more possessive in bed, sometimes even summoning you in the middle of work, only for you to end up staying in his room for the remainder of the day because you’re too fucked out to get up and walk.

Despite these rather unsavoury changes to your routine, one thing you’d never let him touch is your work. Forming dreams was and is still your only outlet, and whenever you’re out there, inspiring a soul, you’d forget everything, including yourself - after all, dreams are all about them, and reading about their eventual success in their books gives you such a rush like no other.

You imagine it’s already past noon in the Dreaming, it’s hard to tell at times, but you could tell by the number of dreamers you had visited. You had just finished your seventh for the day, just lazily nibbling on a cheese pretzel as you wait for Ezekiel Gantz’s alarm to ring so he could get to work and absolutely kill it in his client presentation.

Before you, however, materialises a small piece of stationary with sprawling cursive writing - it isn’t your first time receiving the note in the same manner, so you let it fall on your lap. You could read its contents clear as day without even picking it up:

My dream,

Come see me in the library

With a sigh you get up from the office chair you’re lounging on and exit Ezekiel’s dreams, confident he’ll ace his meeting later with the big bosses.

Time to meet your own big boss.

***

You spend a good five, maybe ten minutes navigating the maze that is your Lord’s library, just looking for him among the towering shelves. You reach what is one of the most secluded areas, huffing at the effort. Finding no sign of him, you pick up a book from one of the shelves instead before you head back to the dreams. Just as you’re about to flip the cover open, you spot a dark shadow emerging from among the shelves out of the corner of your eye. Perhaps he took pity on you scrambling around and decided to show himself instead.

“My dream,” he half-whispers in that deep, velvety voice: a sign that you wouldn’t like what’s coming to you next.

“You sent for me, my Lord? May I ask what for?” you reply meekly, backing away as he approaches until your backside hits a desk.

You know what for, the Voice snidely comments.

Deciding to ignore that bit, you focus solely on the warm body pressing against yours and the lips now peppering your neck with wet kisses and nipping at your earlobe. Urgently, his mouth finds yours and makes both your tongues dance in a game of dominance he always wins. Pulling away, he whispers over your lips:

“I do not need a reason to see my beloved, the mother of my son, the only one from whom I seek pleasures of the flesh…”

He draws out the final phrase slowly as his hands bunch the hem of your dress, but your hand deters his, countering, “Lord Morpheus, Lucienne -”

“Is not your concern. I have closed off this part of the library,” he cuts you off, dragging his nose along your jawline and sucking on your pulse point. You gasp involuntarily at the warmth of his tongue on your skin, sending shivers all over your body - one thing you’ve discovered is that being with a child made you even more sensitive - and when he squeezes both of your breasts through your dress, the sensation actually sends jolts of electricity to your abdomen and heat pooling between your thighs. Your Lord knows this, for you feel him smirk against your collarbone before he bites down on it. Pulling the neckline of your dress, he exposes your breasts, tender in your pregnancy, and his mouth is on your nipple at once, licking and sucking and biting each of them and eliciting soft sighs and gasps from you.

“I need to be inside you, dream of mine.”

He plants one final peck on your lips before he turns your body, pushing you down on the desk, your breasts pressed against the cold, lacquered wood. He then lifts your dress to reveal his prize: your ass, and the lacy underwear hiding it from his view, an obstacle that he just pulls down to reveal your damp entrance.

You had nothing to hold on to but the edges of the table, so when you hear his zipper being pulled down, you brace yourself closing your eyes and biting your lips, whimpering as his hard cock parts your folds, taking your wetness, before plunging it in its entirety. He groans in pleasure as he begins sliding in and out of you, and at that moment you couldn’t help but let out the loud moans you intended to stifle. Even after the countless times he has bedded you, he still stretches you out to the point of mild discomfort, and he knows it all too well, for he likes brushing repeatedly against your sweet spot before bottoming out, only to hit it again as he withdraws his length. He finds a rhythm that always made you see white spots in your vision, all while holding you down firmly on the table with his hands, rendering you unable to meet his hips - you’re helpless, moaning and mewling wantonly, and at your Lord’s mercy, but it’s so, so good, and it’s in these moments where you lose all thoughts except him and his cock ramming into you until he takes you to oblivion.

“Lord Morpheus…fuck…”

Spurred by the way you moaned his name and the foul language that followed it, he brings his body close to yours - even with both your clothes in the way, his warmth invades your senses - he whispers heatedly in your ear:

“Language, my dream. I should punish you for that.”

He is always true to his words, for the pace that follows is one that makes your knees buckle, and if it weren’t for him gripping your waist in support you could’ve fallen to the floor.

“I should tie you up to my bed and lock my chambers, just so you could be ready for me to take whenever I please…”

Your response is nothing but a strangled noise escaping your throat. He continues rutting into you, and you start clenching his cock more erratically - you’re so close, so close…

“It will give me so much pleasure to take you even as you grow round with child…”

One particular rough thrust brings tears to your eyes - are you crying due to pleasure or pain? - not that you cared at this point, because you have only one focus - with a sharp cry, you come hard, and the cry is immediately followed by a series of teary, throaty moans and uncontrollable trembling brought about by your master’s insistence at finding his own release. With your orgasm being drawn out in long, torturing seconds, you could feel him losing his pace, until, finally, he groans loudly in your ear, and your womb is filled to the brim with his scorching hot seed. He comes so hard, thrusts so deeply, that the table beneath you creaks, and when he finally pumps the last of his cum inside you, his thrusts soften and slow down while your walls clench him feebly until he eventually stills within you.

You try to catch your breath, and to give you some air, his body pulls away from yours, all while carefully staying inside you. He had once confessed, after one of your many passionate nights, that he likes staying inside you for as long as he could, wanting, craving for as much contact with you as he can. In your fucked out state, you barely note how his hands travel all over your body with so much gentleness, as he often does after you both finish. Perhaps it’s an attempt to soothe you after he had taken you so mercilessly.

When he pulls out from you at last, he places your underwear back and rights your gown, while you manage to prop yourself up with your elbows and shakily get on your feet. You could feel a dull sensation between your thighs, one you just might not ever get used to, but his arms wrap around your waist to support you. He kisses your lips softly, and then your forehead, not caring about the sweat beading on your skin. When he’s done, he just stays in place, his hand finding its way to the back of your head and bringing it close to his heart, while your arms, finding nothing better to do, snake around his back.

“Lord Morpheus,” you call to him in a whisper.

Humming against your hair, he responds, “Yes, my little dream?”

“I’m hungry.”

Your Dream Lord lets out a light-hearted chuckle - a rarity for him - and he pulls away so he could look into your face, his own displaying a small smile.

“What do my dream and my little one crave?”

“Mmm…vanilla ice cream,” you declare, adding, “And cheese. Vanilla ice cream with cheese mixed in.”

***

Even after a few more weeks come by, you continually crave the same thing over and over: creamy vanilla ice cream with tiny bits of mild cheddar mixed in it. There are other food combinations, of course, but in between increasingly volatile emotions and longer bouts of throwing up every goddamn morning, it’s one of the only things you could hold down.

“Want some?” you ask your nightmare friend sitting across you, holding out the large bowl of ice cream to him.

“Nah, I don’t care much for pregnant-women food,” the Corinthian responds with his nose turned up, raising his cup of coffee. “I’ll stick to this, thanks.”

You’re back in the garden, taking advantage of one of your rare breaks from work. You had asked him many times to bring Sumnio so you could finally meet the nightmare he had a crush on (even if he’d rather be unmade than ever admit it). But he never does, much to your dismay. Maybe one of these days, you could find the human they’re frequenting and walk in on them, preferably making out, but given how busy you are with your current dreamers, you don’t see that happening soon.

“Fine, I’ll try it,” he says grudgingly, scooping a teaspoonful of ice cream from your bowl and sceptically tasting it. “Not bad,” he comments with a tilt of his head and gives it another go.

“Lady Mera!”

You whip your head in the direction of the voice that had just called you now. From afar, you see Morwyn running to your table, with a very familiar face traipsing behind her, almost floating, playing with tiny, colourful fish circling her head in midair.

Lady Delirium has found herself in her older brother’s realm, it seems.

And she spots you from the distance. You raise a hand in a tentative wave, and she comes running to you, reaching you even before Morwyn does.

“Meraaaaa!!!” she squeals in delight and lunges at you with a huge hug. “Oh, he sounds like he’s growing happily,” she comments with a knowing glance. You smile, not knowing what to make of it.

Morwyn catches up at last, with her hands on her knees and panting heavily, motioning to Lady Del and breathlessly mentioning the word ‘visitor.’ You hand her a glass of water which she gratefully accepts.

You turn to Lady Delirium, who you spot greeting the Corinthian and sampling your momentarily forgotten, rapidly melting ice cream bowl.

“Mera, you know what’s a great ice cream flavour? Telephone pole!” she exclaims, brandishing the teaspoon dripping with melting ice cream, spraying some of it on the Corinthian’s sunglasses.

“That’d be a bit chewy, I imagine,” you say thoughtfully, offering her a seat at the table and motioning to the tray of sweets for her to sample. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch your friend wiping his glasses with a table napkin. As Morwyn excuses herself, the youngest Endless takes a cinnamon roll out of the tray and takes a large bite.

“Mmm! I know this,” she comments, her eyes lighting up maniacally as she tends to do when an idea crosses her mind. “I remember why I came here. I find it difficult to remember stuff these days, but I think I remember that thing pretty clearly.”

Right across from you, your friend scratches his head, muttering to himself, “Interesting. Very gripping.”

As if she didn’t hear him, she sways in her seat, continuing, “Remember what I said about friends helping each other? And about friends helping each other find what they lost?”

You set down your now-empty bowl, curiosity now piqued. “Yes, my lady. What of it?”

“You’re my friend, and I found what you lost, so you know…yey!”

“What I ‘lost?’”

“I’m getting outta here,” your friend leaps to his feet, leaving his cup of coffee half-finished. Looking up at him, you read the two words on his lips quite clearly: ‘bad idea.’

“Bye, Cori!” Lady Del waves enthusiastically at his retreating form, before her eyes stare into yours - uncanny, the way her mismatched eyes seem to perceive things about you you aren’t even familiar with.

“If we go to the dreams now, we can -”

“She is not going anywhere, little sister.”

As soon as your Dream Lord reaches your full view, you get up abruptly, intending to say a polite ‘hello,’ but you forgo the thought almost immediately when you see his expression. He’s scowling heavily, his posture rigid, directing his ire at his sibling, the only company you have left, who’s smiling rather innocently and pointedly ignoring her brother’s harsh stare. “Delirium, this is the second time you’ve come to my realm unannounced.”

“But I said I was coming. It wasn’t that nice of you, ignoring my calls like that,” she comments, rubbing the back of her neck while her hair transforms into a dull, brown bob.

“My apologies, sister. I was busy with Dreaming matters. I shall be with you momentarily.”

And then, his gaze turns to you, his eyes searching, accusing, even.

But you haven’t done anything. So, you meet his eyes with resolve, wondering how on earth you’ve gotten on his bad side.

“Come with me,” he says.

It’s a simple command, but a foreboding one, especially as his sand circles the both of you and reveals his chambers once it clears. Growing more confused with his behaviour, you open your mouth to question him, but he beats you to it:

“I hereby forbid you to speak to Delirium and set foot in the sea of dreams.”

****************************** Link to the next chapter

Author notes on the Chapter:

Ya’ll really thought he’d have no qualms with her getting back to work? LOL this is Dark!Morpheus we talkin bout :P if he could, he would control Mera’s schedule right down to the minute :P he’ll hold on to whatever aspect of Mera’s life he could control

Also, I think we have four or five??? more chapters to this story, and it's already close to 100k words (96k)!! Funny how plot points keep adding up and growing :D

final note: forgive the *ehem CHEESY title xD

******************************

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 2/04/23

Edit date: 2/04/23

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittenssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@saraicus

@blu3what

@justporple

@emy635

@chantzmar

@dawnissunnysideup

@esmeralda-tupi

@ggxsan

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mitchbeck · 1 day ago

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wayzata · 2 months ago

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Maple Grove Boys Hockey Edges Wayzata at Turkey Trot Tournament (video)

“The Maple Grove boys hockey team bounced back from a shutout loss to Edina to beat host Wayzata 4-3 in the finale of the CCX Turkey Trot tournament Saturday night. The Trojans tied the game at 3-3 on a Colin Bierman deflection goal with just under four minutes to play before Brady Aubut scored the game-winner on a powerplay for Maple Grove. Wayzata had defeated Moorhead 3-2 in overtime on the…

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#Wayzata Boys Hockey #Wayzata Trojans #Youtube

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market-news-24 · 9 months ago

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In the latest Powerball drawing on Saturday, May 11th, 2024, lucky winners have the chance to take home a life-changing jackpot. Stay tuned to find out if you are the next big winner with these winning numbers! Click to Claim Latest Airdrop for FREE Claim in 15 seconds Scroll Down to End of This Post const downloadBtn = document.getElementById('download-btn'); const timerBtn = document.getElementById('timer-btn'); const downloadLinkBtn = document.getElementById('download-link-btn'); downloadBtn.addEventListener('click', () => downloadBtn.style.display = 'none'; timerBtn.style.display = 'block'; let timeLeft = 15; const timerInterval = setInterval(() => if (timeLeft === 0) clearInterval(timerInterval); timerBtn.style.display = 'none'; downloadLinkBtn.style.display = 'inline-block'; // Add your download functionality here console.log('Download started!'); else timerBtn.textContent = `Claim in $timeLeft seconds`; timeLeft--; , 1000); ); Win Up To 93% Of Your Trades With The World's #1 Most Profitable Trading Indicators [ad_1] Are you feeling lucky today? The Powerball jackpot reached an estimated $36 million, with a cash option of $16.8 million for Saturday night's drawing. The last jackpot win was on May 6 when a Florida player won $214.9 million. Meanwhile, the Mega Millions jackpot stands at $363 million with a cash option of $166.9 million. Exciting, right? The winning Powerball numbers for May 11, 2024, were 3, 6, 39, 49, 67, and Powerball 21. The Powerplay was 2x. If you're wondering when the next Powerball drawing is, mark your calendar for Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday at 10:59 p.m. ET. Ever thought about your odds of winning? It's 292,201,338-to-1 for the jackpot and 11,688,053-to-1 for matching all five white balls. So don't spend those millions just yet! Want to know where to buy tickets? You can buy them at gas stations, convenience stores, grocery stores, or even online through Jackpocket in select states. With top 10 biggest Powerball jackpots and the option to choose between lump sum or annuity payouts, the excitement of playing the lottery continues to grow. Feel like joining the winners' circle? Stay tuned, watch the live drawing, and grab your tickets! And remember, play responsibly! Win Up To 93% Of Your Trades With The World's #1 Most Profitable Trading Indicators [ad_2] 1. What was the Powerball winning number for Saturday, May 11th, 2024? - The winning numbers were 3, 15, 28, 36, 47 and the Powerball number was 12. 2. How can I check if I won the Powerball jackpot for 5/11/24? - You can check the winning numbers on the official Powerball website or by watching the drawing live on television. 3. What time does the Powerball drawing take place on Saturdays? - The Powerball drawing takes place at 10:59 p.m. Eastern Time on Saturdays. 4. What happens if no one wins the Powerball jackpot on 5/11/24? - If no one wins the jackpot, the prize money rolls over to the next drawing, increasing the jackpot amount. 5. What is the deadline to purchase Powerball tickets for the 5/11/24 drawing? - The deadline to purchase Powerball tickets varies by state, but it is usually 1-2 hours before the drawing takes place. Win Up To 93% Of Your Trades With The World's #1 Most Profitable Trading Indicators [ad_1] Win Up To 93% Of Your Trades With The World's #1 Most Profitable Trading Indicators Claim Airdrop now Searching FREE Airdrops 20 seconds Sorry There is No FREE Airdrops Available now. Please visit Later function claimAirdrop() document.getElementById('claim-button').style.display = 'none'; document.getElementById('timer-container').style.display = 'block'; let countdownTimer = 20; const countdownInterval = setInterval(function() document.getElementById('countdown').textContent = countdownTimer;

countdownTimer--; if (countdownTimer < 0) clearInterval(countdownInterval); document.getElementById('timer-container').style.display = 'none'; document.getElementById('sorry-button').style.display = 'block'; , 1000);

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yolacricket · 10 months ago

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gqresearch24 · 10 months ago

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Powerball Jackpot Soars To $1.09 Billion, Among The Largest In History

(Source-Wilfredo Lee_AP)

The elusive billion-dollar Powerball jackpot remains unclaimed as no ticket matched all six numbers in the recent drawing, propelling the lottery prize to a staggering $1.09 billion for the upcoming Wednesday’s draw.

No Winner Yet: Powerball Jackpot Climbs Higher

The winning numbers drawn on Wednesday night were 11, 62, 65, 38, 41, with the Powerball number being 15. Additionally, the Powerplay multiplier was 3X, providing excitement and anticipation for lottery enthusiasts across the nation.

According to a press release from Powerball, this colossal jackpot ranks as the game’s fourth-largest in its illustrious history, offering players the opportunity to vie for life-changing winnings.

Should a lucky individual secure the jackpot in Wednesday’s drawing, they face a pivotal decision between two payout options. They can opt for an annuitized prize amounting to an estimated $1.09 billion spread over several years or a lump sum payment estimated at $527.3 million, both figures subject to taxes.

Opting for the annuity option entails receiving an initial lump sum followed by 29 annual payments, each increasing by five percent annually, providing financial security and stability for the jackpot winner.

Annuity vs. Lump Sum: Decisions Await the Jackpot Winner

The last Powerball jackpot triumph occurred on January 1, 2024, when a fortunate ticket holder from Michigan clinched a prize worth an impressive $842.4 million, illustrating the transformative potential of the lottery.

Powerball tickets, priced at $2 per play, are available for purchase in 45 states, along with the District of Columbia, Puerto Rico, and the U.S. Virgin Islands, offering widespread accessibility to hopeful participants. The overall odds of winning a prize stand at 1 in 24.9, while the odds of claiming the jackpot are considerably slimmer at 1 in 292.2 million, underscoring the rarity of such a monumental win.

Previous Win and Ticket Details

Enthusiasts can catch the excitement of Powerball drawings live every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday from the Florida Lottery studio in Tallahassee. For those unable to tune in, the drawings are conveniently live-streamed on Powerball.com, ensuring that everyone has the opportunity to witness the unveiling of life-altering fortunes. As the anticipation builds and the jackpot continues to swell, millions eagerly await the next drawing, fueled by dreams of securing the coveted Powerball prize and embarking on a journey of financial prosperity and abundance.

More News: Trump’s Truth Social Sees Volatile Debut on Wall Street

#PowerballJackpot #Lottery #BillionDollarJackpot #LifeChangingWin #PowerballDrawing

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splitthedefense · 1 year ago

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Leafs In For A Bigger Test In Winnipeg

The Toronto Maple Leafs and Winnipeg Jets are completing their home and home series, this Saturday in Winnipeg. This series is the only time this season these two teams will meet, and the Jets will be hungry for the win, after an overtime loss in Toronto on Wednesday. Winnipeg dominated including out shooting Toronto 21-6 in the first half of Wednesdays tilt; although Toronto was able to even out the shot count after 5 consecutive powerplays.

Only the lines of Robertson, Tavares, Nylander (51.54 xGF%) and Robertson, Domi, Jarnkrok (61.34 xGF%) won their minutes on Wednesday wihile Toronto's top line of Matthews, Marner, and Knies had a dismal (42.98 xGF%) Winnipeg was without Mark Scheifele (still out) , Gabe Vilardi, back-up Laurent Brossoit in net and playing with 5 defenders after Morrisey went down in the first period.

Now, Toronto heads to Winnipeg for Hockey night in Canada, Winnipeg now with a healthier roster and their number one goaltender between the pipes. Toronto lacked possession stats against a depleted Jets squad in their previous match-up. Albeit coming away with an overtime win; the Leafs are going to have to find another gear to hang with the home team on Saturday.

Toronto has struggled of late going 5-4-1 in their last 10 games while allowing 29 GA

Winnipeg have gone 7-2-1 in their last 10 allowing only 15 GA

Toronto is going to need to fire on all cylinders for any chance at a win.

#hockey #nhl #nhl hockey #nhl players #toronto maple leafs #leafsforever #go leafs go #matthew knies #john tavares #william nylander #maple leafs

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sportsgr8 · 1 year ago

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Fielding Coach Munish Bali Praises ‘impact Player’ Amanjot Kaur For All-round Show In Third T20I

Renuka Singh Thakur: India fielding coach Munish Bali showered praise on seam-bowling all-rounder Amanjot Kaur, calling her as an ‘impact player’ for showcasing all-round heroics and helping the hosts’ beat England by five wickets in the third and final T20I of the series.At the Wankhede Stadium on Sunday, Amanjot picked 2-25 in her three overs and took a splendid catch to dismiss Bess Heath. With the bat, she took two fours off top-ranked T20I bowler Sophie Ecclestone to make an unbeaten ten off just four balls and take India home in the chase of 127 with an over to spare. “She’s an impact player; if you see she came and bowled the fourth over in the powerplay and bowled very well. She fielded very well. She bowled for 3-4 overs yesterday (during second T20I on Saturday) and made an immediate impact with a brilliant catch.” “When we were chasing (on Sunday), 12 off 12 balls, the first ball she (faced was) whipped through the covers by her,” said Bali in the post-match press conference. Amanjot made her T20I debut earlier this year against South Africa and earned the Player of the Match award quickly for making 41 not out off 28. Since then, she’s played nine T20I games and even debuted in ODIs too. Though India lost the series 2-1, they had a huge positive in fast-bowler Renuka Singh Thakur coming back to action post a stress fracture injury. In the series, Renuka had figures of 3/27, 2/26, and 2/23, giving India a good start with her lines and lengths. “She knows her game very well; she sticks to her limitations and knows the areas where she’s bowling and is very smart with her proceedings. She knows the areas she wants to hit and she is doing exactly that,” added Bali. Though India put up a better fielding performance on Sunday, the first two matches didn’t go that way and Bali felt the team playing under lights after a long time had some effect too, while adding that the newcomers are bringing in the youthful energy to fielding. “We played a day-night game after almost six to seven months. The last game that the girls had played was in WPL, after that they have not played in the night time. It is always very difficult as a team when you are playing after six-seven months. But we started practising and get used to under lights that is why the results are coming.” “Fielding and fitness goes side by side. So, we are working on fitness as well as fielding aspect. It is going well so far. If you are fit enough, you are a good fielder. Amanjot, Jemimah and Shreyanka are supremely fit.” “After the Bangladesh series, we played after a long time and have now many newcomers in the team. We have very good youngsters in the team who are very energetic. We are progressing well and look forward to the next series.” Read the full article

#AmanjotKaur #BessHeath #MunishBali #RenukaSinghThakur #SophieEcclestone #SouthAfrica #ThoughIndia #WankhedeStadium

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idahomag-com · 1 year ago

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The Powerball Fever Grips the Nation: A Billion-Dollar Dream

In the realm of lotteries, few moments captivate the nation's imagination like a soaring jackpot, and the current Powerball frenzy is no exception. With the jackpot swelling to an eye-watering $1.4 billion after a suspense-filled Wednesday drawing that yielded no winner, the anticipation leading up to Saturday's drawing has reached unprecedented heights.

Unraveling the Winning Numbers: 10/4/23

The nation held its breath on Wednesday night as the winning numbers were announced: 10/4/23. Despite countless hopeful hearts, the grand prize remained unclaimed, setting the stage for what promises to be a historic Powerball event on Saturday.

The Power of a Billion Dollars: Life-Altering Potential

To put the magnitude of this staggering jackpot into perspective, consider this: if a lucky soul had clinched Wednesday's drawing, they would have been presented with a tantalizing cash option of $551.7 million. This astronomical sum is more than just money; it represents the power to turn dreams into reality, to change lives and reshape destinies.

Navigating the Maze of Powerball Odds

As aspiring millionaires and dreamers flock to purchase their tickets, it's essential to understand the odds stacked against them. The chances of securing the Powerball's top prize stand at an astonishing 1 in 292.2 million, emphasizing the colossal challenge faced by participants. Yet, it is precisely this element of chance that fuels the excitement, as every ticket represents a glimmer of hope and the possibility of a life-altering windfall.

Cracking the Powerball Code: Rules and Rewards

Entering the Powerball arena requires a simple $2 investment, allowing players to select five numbers from one to 69 for the white balls and one number from one to 26 for the red Powerball. Alternatively, the element of fate can be embraced by opting for randomly generated numbers, adding an intriguing twist to the game.

Securing the coveted jackpot demands an exact match of all five white balls and the red Powerball. However, the allure of Powerball extends beyond the grand prize, offering eight additional pathways to victory based on the number of matched balls in various tiers. Non-jackpot prizes range from a modest $4 to a substantial $1 million, with the option to amplify winnings through the "Powerplay" feature, multiplying non-jackpot prizes by 2, 3, 4, 5, or 10 times.

Special Features: Enhancing the Thrill

Powerball's allure deepens with enticing features like the "Powerplay" option, allowing players to magnify their winnings significantly. The 10X Powerplay feature, while exhilarating, is exclusively applicable to jackpots worth $150 million or less. Additionally, the game introduces the "Double Play" feature, giving players an extra chance to match their numbers after each Powerball drawing, all for a nominal fee of $1 per play. These innovative additions heighten the excitement, offering participants even more opportunities to secure a win.

Where Luck Meets Convenience: Ticket Purchase Options

For those eager to participate, acquiring Powerball tickets is a breeze. Tickets are readily available at gas stations, convenience stores, grocery stores, and select airport terminals, ensuring accessibility for all enthusiasts. In the digital age, purchasing tickets has been streamlined through online platforms like Jackpocket, the official digital lottery courier of the USA TODAY Network. This user-friendly app allows players in several U.S. states, including Arizona, Arkansas, Colorado, Idaho, Massachusetts, Minnesota, Montana, Nebraska, New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, Ohio, Oregon, Texas, Washington D.C., and West Virginia, to conveniently choose their preferred lottery game and numbers, place their order, view their ticket, and collect their winnings, all from the palm of their hand or the comfort of their home computer.

As the nation collectively holds its breath, Saturday's Powerball drawing promises not just a chance at staggering wealth but an opportunity to turn dreams into reality. With a billion-dollar jackpot up for grabs, the Powerball fever has truly gripped the nation, uniting millions in the pursuit of a billion-dollar dream.

#PowerballJackpot

#LotteryWinners

#LifeChangingWinnings

#LottoLuck

#PowerballDreams

#MillionaireMindset

#LuckyNumbers

#BigWinnersClub

#FortuneAwaits

#JackpotFever

#LotteryLife

#PowerballMania

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#WinningStreak

#WealthyLife

#PowerPlay

#JackpotJoy

#WinningsGalore

#RichesAwait

#PowerballMagic

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aci32 · 2 years ago

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HELLOWEEN/HAMMERFALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey everyone sorry for running 4 days late but better late than never, here is my 4th review of 2023, Helloween and Hammerfall!!!!!!!!!!! I hadn’t seen both of these bands in half a decade and 4 years respectively, not since Wacken 2018 and 2019, so it felt great to see them again. Helloween also haven’t played Toronto in almost a decade not since they played Opera House, Hammerfall I last saw in Toronto half a decade ago on the same night Slayer played their final show on their final tour and it was also at Opera House. This time around, both bands played at History, which was my 2nd time going there.

Let’s start the festivities!

First band up was HAMMERFALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was my 5th time seeing them as I last saw them at Wacken Open Air 2019 and they were spectacular at that time, and when I saw them at WOA 2019 it was before Sabaton took the stage and played a 2 hour show, plus both bands would come to Toronto in October of that same year but I skipped that show as I had already seen both bands play at Wacken. Hammerfall get better each time I see them live and Joacim Cans is a joker especially with his onstage antics during songs and his funny banter especially pointing to a guy in the back saying “except for this guy” before Let the Hammer Fall played. Here’s their setlist:

BrotherhoodPlay Video

Any Means NecessaryPlay Video

The Metal AgePlay Video

Hammer of DawnPlay Video

Blood BoundPlay Video

RenegadePlay Video

Last Man StandingPlay Video

Hero's Return / On the Edge of Honour / Riders of the Storm / Crimson ThunderPlay Video

Let the Hammer FallPlay Video

(We Make) Sweden RockPlay Video

Hammer HighPlay Video

Hearts on Fire

After Hamerfall it was time for the German power metal juggernauts, HELLOWEEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This was my 5th time seeing them as I last saw them half a decade ago as the Wacken 2018 super headliners as they played a 2.5 hour set from 9:30 PM-Midnight on the last day of Wacken Open Air and it was on the Pumpkins United tour that saw the return of Kai Hansen and Michael Kiske, and that was the best I had seen Helloween play since I got to see them in their home country and on the biggest metal festival in both Europe and the world. This time around they played at History and they had a pretty good turnout I must say, although it wasn’t sold out compared to them playing a packed field at WOA 2018. Before they played Forever and One (Neverland) Michael Kiske and Andi Deris were talking and Andi said “This song is for my beloved...ex” and Michael said “Everyone with your smartphones take them out and turn on the lights, it looks niceeeee” Andi then said “I remember people with cigarette lighters would have burnt fingers and thumbs” which made me laugh. Here’s their setlist:

HalloweenPlay Video

OrbitPlay Video

SkyfallPlay Video

Eagle Fly FreePlay Video

Mass PollutionPlay Video

Future WorldPlay Video

PowerPlay Video

Save UsPlay Video

Walls of JerichoPlay Video

Metal Invaders / Victim of Fate / Gorgar / Ride the SkyPlay Video

Heavy Metal (Is the Law)Play Video

Forever and One (Neverland)Play Video

Guitar Solo(Sascha Gerstner)Play Video

Best TimePlay Video

Dr. SteinPlay Video

How Many TearsPlay Video

Encore:

Perfect GentlemanPlay Video

Keeper of the Seven KeysPlay Video

Encore 2:

I Want OutPlay Video

For the Love of a Princess(James Horner song)

Overall a great show, but I do say fuck early in the week shows as I feel tired the next day and I have no motivation to immediately do my reviews, compared say to Thursday, Friday or Saturday shows, and as well the commute to History can suck my hairy dick, lick my hairy scrotum, and eat my hairy ass. Also I will be seeing both Hammerfall and Helloween at this years Wacken Open Air, so that will be a lot better.

HEAVY METAL FOREVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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dotieeee · 2 years ago

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The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 9

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

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Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

non-consensual kissing and touching

touch-starved Morpheus should be a warning of its own

mentions of gore

mentions of drug abuse

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 9: Courtships with Deadlines

5 Days Until Deadline

You drape a thick, velvet blanket over your shoulders before you go out to the balcony and watch the night give birth to one of the most beautiful sunrises any creature could ever see in their lifetime.

But something has changed: not the beauty of the sunset, but the way you feel about it. You had for so many times looked at it with wonder in your eyes. Now, all it reminds you of is another day in the Kingdom with him: the all-powerful being who had woven your strings of fate and tied it with himself, not caring whether he suffocated you in the process. After he left the room, you never got a wink of sleep; you never even dared close your eyes, fearing he might suddenly pop into your room and force you once more into a vulnerable position. Not wanting to remember your master’s visit last night, you rub your face with your hands to force these thoughts away, suddenly wanting a cup or two of steaming hot coffee with loads of milk dumped in them.

Your mind wanders to the Sleep Doctor you had left in his dreams after a quick, impulsive kiss. Despite liking to take a lot of naps, he actually is an early riser, as you had discovered in your short time in the Waking with him. By now, he should be having the same milky cup of coffee, scrolling through the daily science bulletin on his iPad and muttering to himself as he read the articles, while his favorite cinnamon buns you had popped in the oven happily baked away.

You don’t want to admit it, but you sorely miss Ollie and his cheerful demeanor.

The sun has fully risen in the realm when Morwyn knocks on your door, bringing you a tray of breakfast consisting of your favorite pastries and coffee, prepared just the way you like it. You’re not particularly hungry, but after spotting a cinnamon roll, you contentedly dig in, wondering if Ollie had the same. You share the rest of the generous fare with her and use the opportunity to catch up with her after all these years. When the meal is over, she draws you a bath, then excuses herself, mumbling about preparing your outfit to “his liking.” You ignore the last thing she said, focusing instead on the sea of bubbles that relaxed every tense muscle in your body, savoring every time you have without the Dream Lord hounding your time and attention. Once you’ve dried yourself, you step out of the bathroom in a silken robe, thinking of donning your usual dress. To your surprise and consternation, you find Morwyn in the middle of admiring a blood-red, long-sleeved gown of the finest silk satin, decorated with tiny chunks of ruby around the waist. It’s a dress worthy of a princess.

Except you’re no princess.

“Morwyn, please tell me I’m not wearing that,” You say as you walk to the closet and yank the doors open, expecting to find the clothes you had seen the other day and hoping you get to choose the simplest garb you could find – the closet is empty.

Great. You can’t even choose your own clothes, now.

Unconsciously, you take a leaf after Ollie’s book and rub the back of your head.

“M’lady,” Morwyn calls, her voice slightly trembling, “The Dream King had instructed me to empty your closet and give you this,” she says holding the luxurious dress out. “He says he’d like to see you in it when you meet him later.”

Releasing a defeated sigh, you nod quietly at her and put it on, letting her fasten the ribbon at the back in front of the mirror. The dress feels stifling, and not just because it hugged every curve on your body.

Morwyn gives you a wide, encouraging smile, complimenting, “You look beautiful, m’lady.”

You look just as he intended, you tell yourself. You try to return the smile, hoping it didn’t come out as a constipated grimace.

“Thank you, Morwyn. Has Matthew come around, yet?” The Dream Lord’s words last night were anything but comforting, but he mentioned having his raven come to tell you when it’s time. But for what, exactly?

“Not yet, m’lady. Are you…okay? You look a little pale,” says Morwyn worriedly with her hand on her chin. “If you’d like, I can apply some rouge on your cheeks, doll you up even more?” she innocently suggests, muttering something about “a date” and “looking pretty for the King.”

You shake your head adamantly at the suggestion. No, you don’t want that spurring him on. Wanting to be alone, you say your ‘thank you’ to her and bid her farewell before proceeding to the uppermost part of the palace where your master had said he’ll meet you, hoping for at least a few moments of peace by yourself watching the view from up above.

Thankfully, the balcony is void of the Endless the moment you arrive, giving you time alone to admire the Dreaming Realm in a panoramic view you have never seen before. Your eyes can spot endless, unfamiliar territory and islands you’ve never been in from miles and miles away. Down below you could see the town square, busy as ever, with its tiny residents going about their morning tasks; everything in the Dreaming, right before your eyes – and all you could think of is Ollie.

Due to the events that followed your return, you had not had the opportunity to visit him in his dreams since you left. Your Dream Lord had just complicated things further by forbidding you to step out of his kingdom, making it even more difficult to sneak out and check Ollie's progress. How is he doing, you wonder? Is he sleeping too much due to his eagerness to find you a safe sanctuary away from your master? While you selfishly want him to continue doing so until he finds a solution, you don't want to keep him away from the Waking and living his own life - after all, he has his own dreams to fulfill, and you wouldn’t want to inconvenience him any further.

You need to help him find a way to free you so he can get his own life back, and you need to move faster.

With that in mind, you make a mental promise to visit his dreams as soon as the Dream King has gone away to attend to his duties.

A loud caw, followed by a shout of 'Lady Mera,' interrupts you from your musings. Matthew, the new raven, lands on the balcony railing, flapping his wings before tucking them in.

"I wish you'd stop calling me that," you chide him with a pout.

"I can't, you know how the boss is. He's a stickler to his rules," Matthew replies with a tilt of his head.

"Maybe you can drop the fancy title when he's not around, at least?" you suggest with an innocent smile, patting his head several times.

Leaning into your petting, he acquiesces, "Oh, alright. I never thought I'd enjoy being pet as a bird, you know. Why are you early, by the way? I was supposed to come get you as soon as he says so. Eager for the date, much?"

"This isn't a date," you're quick to correct him with a flat tone.

"Uh, it kind of is? I told him yesterday he needed to spend more time with you so he doesn't uh, intimidate you."

Might be too late for that, you note inwardly.

"You shouldn't have," you find yourself commenting with some truth behind your jesting tone, which earns a nervous chuckle from the raven.

"No, but, seriously though, aren't you and the boss, uh...a thing? You see, I've been meaning to ask, but he's mum about, you know,” he starts, obvious in his tone he’s hesitant to approach the matter. “Except he did tell me you’re his consort. Are you and him –”

“No,” you sharply reply, not liking his line of questioning. “Not yet, anyway,” you mumble.

“Ah, so that’s what the date is for, then,” he says, nodding to himself. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Yeah, sure. It wouldn’t hurt.”

“Do you… like it? Him, I mean?”

You bite your lip, not expecting Matthew’s question – for him, it was a telling gesture. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. How come you don’t tell him?”

Chuckling humourlessly at his question, you answer, “We’re talking about your boss, here, Matthew. To him, any dissent warrants either an unmaking, a banishment, or a lifetime of nightmares: you take your pick.”

“Tell me about it! Did you know, he had an ex that he sent to – uh-oh .”

‘What is it?” you ask, recognizing the slight alarm in his tone.

“He’s calling for me, I think. I have to go. See you, my La – I mean, Mera!”

Before you could say your farewell, Matthew goes flying off into the horizon and dips below into one of the palace rooms and out of your line of sight. Just as he disappears, your hairs stand on end and a cold feeling washes over you like icy water being dumped over your head.

He’s here, the Voice warns.

From behind you, arms snake up and wrap around your waist, pulling you closer until your back hits a taut chest. Your entire body goes rigid and your breathing turns shallow as you feel a warm breath tickle your earlobe, followed by a whisper:

“You’re early, my dream.”

“I just wanted to admire the view –” your sentence is cut off with your breath hitching; your Dream Lord just dragged his nose down the side of your neck before planting a heated, wet kiss at the base – his lips linger, then suckles on the skin, holding you tighter to himself to keep you from struggling. From your ruby-bedazzled waist, he drags his left hand slowly upwards across your chest, grasping your throat gently and angling your head so his mouth could get better access to the base of your throat, intent on leaving small, angry welts. You close your eyes with a whimper to endure this, repeating Ollie’s name over and over in your head.

“And yet these views are no match to what you offer me in this dress. You are a sight to behold.”

The low rumble of his voice makes you close your eyes tighter, biting your lip to prevent yourself from making any more noise that could excite him further. He seems undeterred by your silence – he spins you around, and, pushing you against the balcony railing, he captures your mouth with his in a fiery lip lock. His hand nestles on the small of your back, while the other grips the back of your neck as his insistent tongue pries your lips apart and tastes your hot cavern. You had tried your best to hold it all in, but treacherous tears escape the corner of your eyes. Your master seems to feel this, for he surprisingly lightens the kiss, his lips stilling over your swollen ones. You turn your head away to will the tears away, afraid that he might see this as another sign of your defiance.

Instead, he plants a gentle kiss on your temple, before saying softly, “I admit my past courtship of you was hurried and rough. I worry that I may have pushed you further away in my haste. I should like to court you once more. This time, I will endeavor to be more patient and earn your affections.”

He kisses your exposed cheek. Sniffling, you open your eyes, but your head remains turned away from his, refusing to meet his gaze. You feel him pull his head away in your silence.

“Will you not look me in the eyes, little dream? Do you fear me?” he asks with a slight edge to his voice, rubbing his thumb back and forth on the skin beneath your ear in an attempt to comfort you.

Is that remorse you detect? It couldn’t be, you remark, but you couldn’t help but meet his blue eyes to try to gauge what he’s truly feeling. Not wanting to give him a reason to further punish you, you say, “My apologies, my Lord, I am just coming to terms still, with…with what you’re asking of me.”

Yet, his darkened gaze tells you that what you just said to try and placate him was a huge mistake.

“What I’m ‘asking?’” he narrows his eyes on you, his voice laced with impatience. “ I’m afraid I’m not ‘asking’ this of you, my Mera. This is the function to which I, your King, have assigned you. This courtship is for your sake alone, that you may grow accustomed to it. We will be united. I will give you five days, after which, we will consummate our bond.”

His final sentence sparks terror in the pit of your stomach. He’s giving you a deadline. Stifling the urge to retch, you swallow thickly before you try to beg, “Sir, I –”

“Enough. I will not have my will questioned,” he interrupts you as he tightens his grip on the back of your neck. “You will be here, in the palace, at all times. You will await my call and come to me when I summon you. I do not mean to be harsh, my dream, but time is of the essence – I was cruelly robbed of mine with you, after all. I shall amend that once I have dealt with the damage left by the Vortex. Is that understood?”

“My Lord, please –”

“Is. That. Understood?” he repeats his question through gritted teeth, clearly unwilling to listen to any more of your pleas.

You look into his hardened, now-silver eyes, attempting to look for any trace of empathy at the situation he’s forcing you into. There isn’t any. Wanting to end your argument so you could be relieved from his presence, you respond with a whisper, “Yes, my Lord.”

Your creator releases a hum of satisfaction as he places a lingering kiss on your cheek, before praising, “That’s a good dream.”

You feel immense relief the moment he lets you go and steps away. You expect him to vanish with a swirl of his sand, but he lingers, standing a few feet before you with his hands behind his back.

“I will call you for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

You could only nod quietly. He takes a small amount of sand from his pouch, presumably to leave, but a sudden question crosses your mind inspired by his previous words. “My Lord, the Vortex…is she…?” you blurt out, slightly hesitating.

“Dead? Yes.”

You bow your head, not knowing how to process the fact. Rose Walker seemed so young and she had so many dreams she wanted to fulfill that you felt them, despite your fleeting interaction with her. You feel your heart clench at the thought of her life being cut short.

“Do not grieve of Unity Kincaid, my dream. Hers is a noble yet necessary sacrifice for the sake of the Dreaming, and of her great-granddaughter, Rose.”

“Unity?” you ask, confused. Wasn’t Rose the Vortex? “Rose is alive?”

Shut up, shut up, NOW, comes the Voice’s sudden warning.

“Yes, she is. You know of her?” He asks, stepping forward, suspicion marring his dark features.

You shake your head, realizing your error; if he finds out you had met with her, he’ll discover your little tryst in the Waking, and if he does, he’ll surely uncover the connection which led to it. That was a stupid, stupid thing to say, you inwardly scold yourself.

“I heard from Lucienne, sir,” you say, mentally crossing your fingers that he doesn’t press any further.

Putting on a blank expression, the Dream King purses his lips, as he releases the sand in his palm.

“I will call for you tomorrow. Do not be late.”

As soon as his form is engulfed in his sand and he vanishes, you make a wild run for the Library. Hidden in one, or two, of those books, are incriminating passages that detail your meeting, and subsequent stay with Ollie, and once the Dream King sees those pages, you could definitely say goodbye to your plans of staying in Ollie’s dreams for good. If he even so much as gets a whiff of your affections of anyone else besides him, there’s no telling what he won’t do to you, and more importantly, to Ollie.

You push the heavy doors to the library quietly to avoid drawing attention to yourself. As noiselessly as you can, you dash through the shelves, skimming through the books in a mad rush. To your alarm, there was no ‘Oliver Chapman,’ not in the ‘O’ or even in the ‘C’ wings. Cursing mentally, you wonder: has Lucienne read them? Worse, has your Dream Lord gotten ahold of them? Are they hiding it from you, knowing you’d try to tamper with them? Letting out a huff of frustration, you sit on the floor, wondering where else they may have kept Ollie’s books of dreams.

The office, whispers the Voice.

Of course. The Dream Lord has an office in the Library, separate from the rest of the space. Not that he needed it, of course; he just usually asks for books to be brought to his throne room where he normally reads them. But why would the books be kept there?

You try to strain your ears for any signs of Lucienne; thankfully, it looks as if she’s out on an errand, so you sprint in the direction of the Dream Lord’s office.

Located at the farthest end of the Library, you’re panting heavily by the time you get there. You push your ear against the doorframe to listen for any sign of life inside. When you hear nothing, you turn the doorknob and push.

Locked.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. There is only one person – or being, for that matter – that has the key, save for the Dream Lord and his Royal Librarian.

You run out of the Library in search of the said being. You find him tending to your favorite garden in the palace grounds, his hands deep in the dirt, planting more of those accursed red flowers – Mervyn the Pumpkinhead.

The keys, attached to his toolbelt, lie discarded beside him, along with his other gardening tools. You know full well you couldn’t just walk up to him and ask for a key to the boss’s office in the library – or is it that easy?

You don’t really have the luxury of planning an elaborate heist for his set of keys, so it’s now or never. Steeling your resolve, you walk up to where Merv is, opting for a much simpler plan.

“Hello, Merv!” you call as you approach.

He stops digging into the flowerbed and turns to you, giving a mock salute. “Hello, kid! What can I help ya with?”

“I’m looking for Morwyn. Have you seen her?” you ask, hoping to put up a convincing act.

He scratches his pumpkin head and replies, “No, I haven’t. Whatcha need her for?”

“I kind of locked myself out of my room, and I need to get something from there,” you say sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head to make it look believable.

“Uh, I have the key in there somewhere, but I’m in the middle o’ something, see? Why don’t you take ‘em keys instead? It’s the gold one with the tiny ruby at the bow.”

Bingo.

“Really, are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, continuing his digging on the flowerbed.

You grab the keys and take off as Merv calls out from behind you, “Give ‘em back, ya hear?”

“Sure thing!”

It takes you a few good minutes to find the key that fit the doorknob. Once you do, you wildly look around you to make sure you weren’t being watched, before you turn the knob and push the door open.

No one has been in the office for quite some time if the dust on the desk in the middle is anything to go about. The room is larger than you expected, and the natural light streaming through the stained glass windows illuminates the numerous towering shelves of books untouched for many years. Wanting to waste no time, you skim through the many bookshelves. They’re thankfully arranged in alphabetical order, so you find an entire shelf dedicated to the name ‘Chapman’ in no time, with Ollie’s name placed at the farthest end.

Curiously, you pick up the book a few places before Ollie’s name first, and with it, you make a startling discovery: the books of dreams on the shelf not only belonged to random ‘Chapmans,’ but to the males in Ollie’s entire lineage. You just picked the book of dreams belonging to Ollie’s great-great-grandfather.

But, why? Why is Ollie’s book of dreams, as well as his male ancestors’, singled out among the infinite number of dreamers?

“Have I told you before that the Chapmans were cursed? Well, the males, at least,” Ollie’s words from almost a year ago echo in your head.

This isn’t the time to unearth Ollie’s family mystery, though, so you make a mental note to do more research in the future and set those thoughts aside. You carefully leaf through the pages to find the section where you made your appearance – your meeting with him, spanning a year, detailed in twenty-full pages. Setting the book on the floor, you get to work.

Hardbound books were tricky to manipulate, with the pages stitched to a section of the book’s spine, so you use your fingers to remove the stitching of the last twenty pages with care – simply tearing the pages away would leave a sign of the book being tampered with. Once you’re sure there were no traces of your crime, you put the book back in place, and scramble out of the office, locking it behind you. You hand the keys back to Mervyn (“What took you so long, kid? Couldn’t be hard to spot a key with a damn ruby, innit?”) and rush to your room. Barricading yourself inside the bathroom, you set the pages alight with a matchbox you stole from the kitchens before washing the ash away with water.

Look how you’ve turned into a cold-blooded criminal mastermind, you inwardly deadpan.

***

4 Days Until Deadline

Afternoon tea with your Dream Lord isn’t as bad of an experience as you thought it would be.

Matthew had fetched you from your room, and you had followed him to the same balcony you had met him with the morning before. You found your master, already sitting beside a table full of your favorite sweets, drinking tea from his cup. He had stood up to greet you, taking your hand in his and kissing it, before leading you to sit across from him. You both sit in somewhat companionable silence while you munch on a cinnamon bun, with him just sipping his tea and watching you with blue, ever-observant eyes.

Until…

“May I ask a question, my Lord?” you shyly break the stillness, setting down the pastry you’re nibbling back on your plate.

You watch a corner of his mouth turn upwards as he sets his cup on a saucer. “Ask away, my dream.”

“I was wondering,” you say slowly, choosing your words carefully. “If you would allow me to continue forming dreams along with my new…role?”

Just then, you could feel the atmosphere change to one of palpable tension, the small grin vanishing from his face.

Tentatively, you add, “Please?”

“I think not. Your duty is to me, alone,” he declares flatly, his cold stare making you squirm in your seat.

You bite your lip and break eye contact with him.

“It’s what I’ve been doing all my life, your majesty,” you whisper dejectedly.

“And that will change in four days’ time.”

“Will you take away my ability to form dreams, too?”

The Dream King seems to contemplate this. The pause is long, before he responds, his tone slightly softening, “I could never bring myself to take that ability away, my little dream. It is part of who you are. I intend for you to keep it.”

But what good is keeping it if he forbids its use, you ask yourself. Still, you give him a subtle nod and a small ‘thank you’ to end the topic. You leave the cinnamon bun untouched, suddenly not feeling very hungry anymore.

The quiet that follows your conversation becomes heavier, so you’re thankful to Matthew for interrupting, quietly delivering news that you couldn’t quite hear. When your King gets to his feet, you swiftly follow his example out of politeness.

“I’m afraid I must cut our date short, my dream. I have matters to attend to.”

You bow your head in response but he takes your chin in his hands and promptly gives you a single, prolonged kiss on the mouth. You close your eyes until he lets go of you, and bids you to ‘stay here.’

Noticing fine grains of sand in the air, you realize he has transported you to your chambers – you turn to him with a protest bubbling in your throat, but you find that he’s gone, and to your irritation, the door locked from the outside.

***

3 Days Until Deadline

Clear as day, Dream of the Endless recalls his first visit to the first Chapman who had crossed his path many centuries ago.

He had not paid him, or any of the other Chapmans, much attention since he had placed a curse on the males of his lineage (except for that one occasion), a curse that felt righteous and just after a slight he had committed against him and his Realm.

Now, as he faces the dream of his only living descendant, he finds himself wanting very much to place another, more potent curse on Oliver Chapman, the mortal whose embrace now cradles the dream he so deeply cherished and ardently pursued.

Or Oliver’s dream-version of you, more accurately.

Morpheus knows this, but he couldn’t help the bitter jealousy burning in his heart as he watches the mortal lavish the lips of your dream-version with his own. He has not felt the urge to smite anyone for dreaming of his creations so lasciviously in a long time – this is an image of you he’s disrespecting, and he refuses to sit idly while this human corrupts you.

An image of you, he corrects.

With a lazy flick of his fingers, the dream-version of you taking Oliver’s shirt off melts before the human’s eyes. He ensures it’s the most gruesome sight this errant dreamer has ever seen: the dream-Mera’s skin peels off starting from her head down to her feet, followed by her flesh boiling and steaming away in an amalgamation of blood and gore, and with a final flair, he makes her bones disintegrate into dust. Oliver’s screams of horror permeate the dream-space – he couldn’t deny the screams gave him utmost satisfaction.

Dream watches curiously as Oliver attempts vainly to regain lucidity by counting his fingers aloud. It’s a trick that could’ve worked, but curiously, the dream remains volatile in his favor.

Morpheus decides to twist the knife, taunting him, “You’ve lost control, lucid dreamer.”

The mortal snaps his head in the Endless’ direction, looking confused, possibly wondering why he couldn’t take over the dream. Medication, perhaps? But Morpheus has not the slightest interest in why a lucid dreamer has lost their ability. He is, however, greatly invested in finding out how such a mortal might develop a certain fascination with you.

“Tell me: what is my dream doing in yours?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Oliver replies, growing more confused. “And who the fuck are you talking about?”

In his fury, Dream could feel himself transforming into a nightmarish image he rarely ever shows his dreamers. No one has ever woken up seeing this form of his with their sanity intact, so he tries to rein in this metamorphosis.

“The dream you were defiling,” he spits out, his bellowing voice echoing the dream-space, “Belongs to me. Explain yourself, Oliver Chapman. My patience is waning.”

Oliver rubs his head in frustration. “I don’t know…I don’t remember.” He looks at both his hands, now coated in blood that isn’t his. “Fuck, there’s so much blood… where is she? She’s injured, I need to help her. I just wanna help her, man. I have to find her…”

Dream narrows his eyes at the mumbling man before him, somewhat disappointed that he could no longer extract reliable information from him in such a state. Recognizing that his fun is over, he transports himself with a pinch of his sand back to his Kingdom. He thinks it’s best that he confront the only other being in existence who had the answers he seeks.

***

When Matthew came flying into the balcony of your room, delivering the message that your King has summoned you to the library, your heart leaped to your chest at the suddenness; your little tea date, as the bird has taken to calling it, hadn’t been due until a few hours after midday. You hastened to dress out of your pajamas and rushed to the said meeting place, your heart beating so fast you could hardly breathe. Had he found out, you wondered?

You find your Dream Lord pacing restlessly to and fro near your favourite reading spot. He stills, looking at you with hardened eyes and clenched jaw, seemingly trying to control the fury you could feel emanating from him. It’s a look that was almost enough to curdle your blood.

He doesn’t even wait for you to get close – immediately he’s upon you, cornering you to one of the bookshelves, making you yelp instinctively. He grabs hold of your wrists and pins them above your head as his body covers your own.

“You will tell me everything, my dream, and I might be inclined to spare Oliver Chapman: why is he dreaming of you?” He growls, his face, inches from yours, contorted in pure rage.

Fighting inwardly to maintain your composure, you respond with another half-truth. “I was injured, my Lord, from a battle I enacted in a dream. I got in his dreams somehow, and he helped me, he nursed me back to health. I stayed there for a while so I could recuperate.”

“Is this the truth, my Mera, or are you keeping anything else from me?”

You wince at the way his grip closes on your wrist further, cutting off the circulation.

“Please, my Lord, you can check for yourself,” you dare meet his eye with your own fearful ones, trying to drive your point. “The dreamer’s name is Belladonna San Mateo – I reenacted a medieval battle for her. It’s the truth, sir, please…”

He pulls his head away as one of his hands releases your wrist and grasps your chin, so you had nowhere else to look but those silvery swirls of galaxies in his cruel eyes. After a few agonizing moments he dips his head, giving you a warning:

“If I find you in the embrace of any other, mortal or otherwise, I shall personally see to their torment in their waking, their dreaming, and their afterlife.”

When he lets you go, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp of relief, clutching your chest to calm your rapid heartbeat.

“There are matters I must attend to. As such, I must regrettably cancel our meeting for this afternoon,” he says, his face once again the stony mask that spelled no room for negotiation. “Stay in your chambers. You are dismissed.”

You turn on your heels and dash away from Library, glad to give the place a wide berth. He had met with Ollie, visited him in his dreams, and didn’t like what he saw. You don’t like the sound of your creator potentially bringing harm to your doctor, so a visit may be long overdue, and it has to be soon.

***

2 Days Until Deadline

As discreetly as you can, you take a plunge into the sea of dreams and navigate your way into your doctor’s dreams, praying to the Fates that he’s asleep at the very moment.

Once you land in the space, Ollie greets you with a tight embrace, one which you return with as much enthusiasm. You had missed him terribly and had been worried out of your wits upon learning of his meeting with your Dream King, so when you let go, you make a fuss over him, checking him and his form for any sign of injury.

“Hey, I know you find me irresistible, but I didn’t know you were bold enough to cop a feel,” he jokes, earning him a half-hearted shove and a slap on the bicep from you.

“This is no laughing matter, you idiot!” you chide him with your arms crossed, relieved on the inside that he was unharmed.

In response, he grins coyly from ear to ear. “You were worried about me. I kinda like that,”

Pouting, you say, “Yes, I was bloody worried. I’m sorry I couldn't visit sooner.”

Ollie turns away from you, scratching the back of his head. “No, it’s quite alright,” he mumbles. “I'm sorry, too. I couldn't do much work on the runes the last few days, Mera. I've been, uh... shit, I... don't know how to say this…”

“What’s wrong?” you get right in front of him to press him, worried at his guilty tone.

With the most apologetic expression you’ve seen in him since the dreamcatcher incident, he replies, “It's the sleeping pills. I've been on them and I think they might've hampered my hypnagogia.”

His revelation makes you drop your jaw in surprise. “Wha-fuck, why are you taking them? And how come you've never told me about this?” You grab hold of his arms to demand answers.

With a placating look, he responds, “I swear, I've been taking them sparingly, but I've been needing a lot of sleep because of... you know. But it's okay now, honest! I didn't take them today, and I'm in full control.”

You place your palms on his cheeks, putting on a serious expression. “You have to get off those. I'm being serious, Ollie.”

“I am! I’ll keep it that way, I promise.”

Not letting go of him yet, you look into those gentle, green eyes, trying to detect signs that he may be hiding something. But this is Ollie, too, you think to yourself. You know him to be bad at keeping secrets. Satisfied with what you saw in his eyes, you let him go, offering a soft apology: “This is my fault. I'm sorry I pushed you into this.”

“No! Hey, no, Mera, you didn’t,” he corrects you with a firm tone. “I've been prescribed these since I was little. You know, the Chapman curse and all that. Oh, and I’ve finally figured out a fitting name for the invention.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“I’ll call it MiraSleep. It’s a sort of, play with your name and the word ‘miracle.’ That’s what you are to me, you know. Everything I do now, I do for you.”

Not knowing what to say to his heartfelt admission, you stare into those forest-green eyes of his, a look of agreement passing between you two. Finally, you flash him a grateful smile, which he returns with his own sheepish grin.

“So, Ollie,” you start with a slightly more cheerful tone, fighting back a blush creeping on your cheeks without much success. “Mind telling me what it was you dreamed about that involved me?”

He breaks into fits of nervous laughter while rubbing the back of his hair. You already know you don’t like what he’s about to say.

“You’ll never believe it if I told you.”

***

You walk back into the palace grounds with high spirits after you visit Ollie’s dreams. He had immensely cheered you up despite his retelling of a rather salacious dream he had engaged with a dream-version you at that moment he lost his lucidity – the dream with which the Dream Lord had walked in on and had taken absolute offense to. He had assured you that the momentary lapse in his dreaming abilities would never happen again, and with that, you’re confident that by your next visit, you could finally stay in there with him without having to worry about being chased after by a certain Endless.

It's this thought that helps you endure your master’s company and his not-so-subtle touches during your morning ‘date’: as soon as the sun had risen in the Realm, he had summoned you through Matthew to accompany him in a morning walk around his Kingdom.

He smugly parades you around the busy town square with your fingers intertwined in his; on occasion, wrapping an arm around your waist as he rubs circles over your clothed skin; at times, even kissing your hand while not breaking heated eye-contact; all these gestures of his affections for the entire Dreaming to see. To the townsfolk, he introduces you as his princess-consort, much to the Dreaming residents’ delight – they had not had a princess-consort to dote on for eons, and so they lavish the both of you with promises of gifts that they are to send to the palace to congratulate their King and to his ‘pretty little dream-bride.’

Just grin and bear with it, as the Voice comments.

Touching as it was, the Dreamfolk’s welcome of you as Dream of the Endless’ new princess-consort breaks your heart even more, knowing that you’ll eventually disappoint them by running away as soon as you have the chance to. Breaking your previously-cheerful outlook further, you walk past the sea of dreams with the thought of never coming back to form the dreams of the mortals forever once you’re free with Ollie.

Before you left his dream at dawn, Ollie had asked you whether you were actually ready to leave your job for good. He knows there was nothing else you loved more than forming dreams for humans and inspiring them. You had never given it much thought before, but your brief stay with him had also made you realize one thing: while you were planning to abandon the role you had loved with all your heart, he had a device that would do the same for millions of other dreamers. While not under your name, the device Ollie had invented would be his and your legacy, and perhaps you could make peace with that. This comment of yours earns you a proud smile from Ollie that rivaled the brightness of the sun – it’s a smile you’re sure you’ve burned into your memory.

***

1 Day Until Deadline

When you wake, you’re greeted with a massive headache – it’s an ominous warning of your days closing in on you. Only one more day until your King’s imposed deadline, and you could only hope Ollie makes a breakthrough with the runes by tomorrow, or all will be lost.

After you had been dressed up by Morwyn, who as usual, gushed over the gown your Dream Lord has selected for you to wear for the day, Matthew delivers the news of your morning activities. According to him, they will consist of morning tea and brunch with his boss in your favourite spot in the Royal Library. When you arrive in the garb he had chosen for you to wear for the day, he gives your red-satin-clad figure an appreciative look before he greets you with a soft kiss on your lips and leads you by the hand to the leather couch you had fallen asleep in so many times.

You engage in light, minimal conversation during tea. You find yourself almost enjoying your time together, discussing your past dreamers with a sense of nostalgia.

That is until an attendant brings a trolley full of books to his side and you inspect the names printed on the books: each containing the name of every dreamer you had visited in his absence.

Perhaps your face had paled when you noticed the books, for he flashes you a small smirk, before assuring you, “It is only procedure, my little Dream. Lucienne told me that you had insisted on finding me in the dreams of mortals even after it proved fatally dangerous for you. I should like to read of your unwavering loyalty with my own eyes.”

His words only made you fidget in your seat, abandoning the cinnamon swirl you had started to dig into a few moments ago.

Your discomfort does not seem to escape his watchful eyes. “Unless, you had something to hide from me, my Mera?”

From the rim of your teacup, you smile wanly, sipping your tea before quietly shaking your head. Inside, however, your heart is practically threatening to escape your ribcage, sending bile to your throat and souring your tastebuds.

“I imagine this will occupy the rest of my day. Stay and read with me.”

Having no choice but to comply, you excuse yourself to pick out a book, choosing one you had read from cover to cover so many times in Ollie’s study.

Choosing a book was the easy part; concentrating on the pages proves a lot more of a challenge, especially when you have your master inspecting your work right in front of you. His occasional praise of your handicraft almost always makes you jump on your seat, thinking that anytime, now, he could be going through Ollie’s book of dreams, potentially exposing you. It takes all your energy to remain composed before him lest he notices your odd behaviour and decides to investigate the source of your restlessness further. The day goes on agonizingly slow, but thankfully, he only goes through the first half of the pile on the trolley.

With a loud pouf, he closes the final book shut and places them on top of the growing pile on the coffee table. Getting up to his feet, you copy his movement, inwardly glad for a dismissal and looking forward to your time alone, stewing in your own worries. You brace yourself as he steps closer and takes your chin in his thumb and forefinger before dipping his head downwards to plant an openmouthed kiss on your lips, one that you now know you’re obliged to kiss back. You expect the kiss to be brief, but he apparently has other ideas: he wraps his arms around your body and maneuvers you. You both end up on the couch, with you straddling his lap. As if predicting your actions, one hand grips the back of your neck and the other holds your hip in place, preventing you from getting away.

He drags his lips away from yours to the groove of your neck while his hand pulls the sleeve of your gown downwards to expose more of the flesh he had longed to mark for a long time. You let out a whimper in protest, before softly pleading, “My Lord, please, we’re in the library…”

Against your skin, you feel him chuckle deeply. “Would my little dream prefer the privacy of her chambers, then?”

He does not wait for your response. Instead, he continues licking and sucking on the exposed skin below your clavicle, dangerously close to your right breast. You let out a startled gasp as you feel his hand go under your gown and start stroking your inner thigh. Your body seems to betray you at that moment: you start feeling heat pooling in your belly, indicating your arousal, no matter how unwilling.

From a short distance, a door in the library creaks open, and a pair of footfalls you recognize start making their way to Lucienne’s desk.

You feel your King let out a growl of displeasure at the disturbance; a second time his librarian has interrupted you – a second time you owe Lucienne one for deterring him from any further actions.

Against your ear, he then whispers, “Tomorrow could not come any faster, little dream. It will be a union you will remember for eternity.”

With unexpected gentleness, he spins you around and sets you down on the couch beside him, and without a word, walks away as if nothing happened.

You clutch your heart and adjust the sleeves of your dress, willing the tears threatening to spill to go away. Tomorrow, you’ll be gone for good, and well away from him – it’s a small reprieve that allows you to clear your head and quickly lock yourself inside your chambers, holding Ollie’s dreamcatcher like a lifeline.

***

0 Days Until Deadline

My little dream,

Proceed to Fiddler’s Green

…Reads the note that Morwyn delivers to you along with your morning coffee. You hope this visit wouldn’t last long; after this, you had every intention of going back to Ollie’s dream. It’s the day of the deadline your King has given after all, and you’d have no other opportunity to escape if you let this day pass.

Don’t go, the Voice warns in your head; but what choice have you, other than comply? After all, it could just be one of the last commands you’d ever obey from him. Not wanting time wasted, you refuse breakfast and begin the long tread to the heart of the Dreaming, and into Gilbert’s sanctuary.

You had been so close to meeting each other in the Waking, during your stay in Hal’s Bed and Breakfast. It’s perhaps pure luck that your paths did not cross, for you’re not sure how Gilbert would’ve reacted, or what he would’ve revealed to the Dream King once he went back.

After your walk for what seemed like hours, the grassy patch of land full of lush, blooming bushes and thick, tall trees greets you with what feels like an urgent breeze, almost making you stumble.

In your head comes Gilbert’s grave tone: “Mera, what are you still doing here?”

Feigning hurt at his words, you reply, “Hello, Gilbert. Am I no longer welcome in your lands?”

“Why, but of course you are, my dear,” he amends. “But, given how dire your situation is, I hardly think this is the best time for a leisurely visit.”

“What do you mean, ‘my situation?’” you ask, your brows furrowing in confusion.

His breeze blows more insistently against you, making your dress billow along. “The Dream Lord has come to me about two days ago asking about you and a man called Oliver Chapman.”

Shit.

Every part of your body stills at the news, your heart sinking to your stomach.

“Now, if your relationship is anything as close as he had implied, this mortal is in danger, as are you. He has instructed me just this very morning to keep you here for as long as I could while he deals with this Chapman fellow, but I could not bring myself to keep you in the dark, especially as it sounded like you care much about him.”

Fiddler’s Green was just a diversion, the Voice concludes.

“You must go, Mera,” Gilbert says with another strong gust of wind as if trying to get you running.

Turning back to him one last time, you start, “Thank you, Gilbert –”

“Go!”

You need not be told further. With all the strength you could muster, you run as fast as your legs could carry you, not caring who or what you bumped into or if you tripped. With breakneck speed, you make your way to the sea of dreams, and will yourself to land in the dream of the man you love, your only remaining refuge, hoping against hope you weren’t too late to save him.

Ollie, startled by your sudden appearance, runs to your side at once. You gasp greedily for air, clutching a stitch on your side from all the effort.

“Mera, fuck... are you okay? What’s all this rush?” he asks, holding you by the shoulders to support you.

Tears of relief gather in your eyes as you take his unharmed form. You’re not late; you still had time.

Letting the tears cascade down your cheeks, you break the news to him:

“He’s coming. He’s coming for us.”

Author notes on the Chapter:

***********************************************

Link to the next chapter

Oh my god this went out of hand!! I'm sure I had mentioned on a tumblr comment that Ollie would only be around for around two chapters, but sorry, things and plot points seemed to have a mind of their own lol. Dream seems to have found them out!! How will their confrontation go?! Aghhhkk

As usual, thank you for sticking with me in this!! Love lots!!!

******************************

Author's notes in general:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby@endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 12/19/22

Edit date: 12/19/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

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@reallystressedhoneybee

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@ponyboys-sunsets

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@kittenssss-blog

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@emy635

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mitchbeck · 11 days ago

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hexiewrites · 2 years ago

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carve your name into my chest: hockey glossary

(read the fic on ao3!)

terms

All-Stars: marking the midway point of the season in early February, a weekend where players compete in various skills challenges on Friday night and then play in a divisional championship on Saturday, with teams made up of members from each division.

Barn burner: an intense or faced paced or just truly exciting game from start to finish.

Battle of the Blades: A Canadian TV show that pairs up experienced figure skaters with (retired) hockey players in a Dancing with the Stars style pairs figure skating competition. (yes, this is real and you can watch clips on youtube)

Beaut: hockey slang, short for beauty/beautiful. great, awesome, etc. 'a beaut of a goal' is 'a fucking awesome goal'.

Bench / box: where players who aren’t currently on the ice sit and wait for their turn to play. Some players spend most of the game on the bench, others rotate out more frequently. Players taking a penalty are also “benched”.

Calder Trophy: Awarded to the best rookie in the NHL.

CBC: the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, the oldest and largest broadcasting network in Canada.

Check: a defensive technique aimed towards a player who is in possession of the puck. there are many forms of checks, though the most commonly known is when a player uses his shoulders and hips to knock the other player into the boards, separating him from the puck.

Chirping (or chirps): teasing, making fun of, specifically in a witty or particularly cutting remark. Also called sniping, sometimes.

Chute: Where players line up to wait before they take the ice.

Crease: the blue area directly in front of the net. Other players cannot make contact with the goalie inside of the crease.

Deke / deking: Short for decoy. A type of feint where the player who has the puck acts in a way to confuse another player, typically a defenseman or goalie.

Dusters: players who don’t get much play time, they gather dust on the bench. Also used to call players losers or as just a general insult.

D zone: the defense zone, the area behind the blue line that contains each teams nets.

Face off: beginning of the game/period/play. The ref will drop the puck between two players, who use their sticks to try to gain control of the puck.

Five hole: the space between a goalie’s legs.

Gretzky / Ovechkin / Howe: Wayne Gretzky, Alex Ovechkin, Gordie Howe. Three of the greatest hockey players in the world, and so far the only three NHL players to score over 800 career goals.

Hat trick: when one player scores three goals in one game. At the end of the game, the audience throws all their hats onto the ice in celebration.

Instigator: all players involved in fights receive 5 minute "major" penalties, but the person who is deemed to have started the fight (by being the aggressor, removing their gloves first, or another reason) is given an additional 2 minute minor penalty. the NHL is the most lenient league in terms of allowing fighting.

Jumper: a hockey jersey, your team uniform.

Lamplighter: a goal, named after the lamp that lights up behind the net to indicate the puck has gone in.

Line: either offensive or defensive, the players you skate the most with in your "shift" on the ice (a three man offensive line includes a center and both a right and left wing; a defensive line has two players).

Period: hockey games have three twenty minute periods of play, separated by two fifteen minute intermissions.

Playoffs: the Stanley Cup Playoffs. in each division (grouping of regional teams), the top three teams (plus an additional two wild card teams per conference) have the opportunity to skate in the playoff season.

Plexi: the clear barrier above the boards which stops flying pucks from hitting audience members.

Powerplay: during a penalty where only one team has a skater benched, so the other team has their full team on the ice and thus one more player than the other team. this gives them an advantage and increased opportunity to score.

Rookie: a new player, their first year playing for the NHL.

Shutout: a game in which the goalie(s) stops all goals from entering the net.

Sin bin: the penalty box. players who commit penalties are “benched” for varying amounts of time based on the penalty (2, 5, and 10 minute long penalties exist for different infractions)

Slapshot: a powerful and highspeed shot. good for shooting from further away because of the speed, but is slower due to the need of the player to “wind up” and is often less accurate than, say, a wrist shot. fun fact: the goal is not to actually slap the puck, but to slap the ice behind the puck which bends the stick and stores up even more energy, which is then released when the stick connects with the puck, sending it flying at speeds of more than 160 km/h (that’s 100 miles per hour, for you non-Canadians)!

Snow: to snow someone. when you skate to a stop quickly in front of another player (usually a goalie) and send a cloud of ice chips (snow) into their face. if a goalie is snowed while they're on the ground, players can receive a penalty for this.

Stanley Cup: the hockey trophy to end all hockey trophies.

Ten and two: slang for when a player gets a ten minute penalty on top of a regular two minute penalty (often for instigating a fight or fighting dirty). A ten minute penalty is a game misdemeanour, and means the player is benched for the remainder of the game.

Three on Three: a variation style of hockey where there are only three players on the ice (plus a goalie) at any given time, compared to hockey’s usual five (plus goalie). typically the best strategy in a three on three game is to have two forwards and one defenseman. because there are less players, less of the ice is covered, so players can often keep the puck in possession longer. in the all-stars three on three games, they play two ten minute periods with one intermission in the middle, instead of the typical three twenty minute periods with two intermissions.

Timbit League: To summarize: one of the most famous Canadian institutions is the coffee & donut shop Tim Hortons (named after Canadian hockey player Tim Horton, who founded the chain). Their quality has gone majorly downhill in the last ten years, but I digress. At Tims, the small round "donut holes" are called "timbits", and they continue to be delicious. The Tim Hortons franchise is a major sponsor of youth camps and sports across Canada, mostly for kids under 9, which helps pay for equipment, uniforms, and more through fundraising, to ensure all kids have access to sports. Kids who play in these leagues are affectionately called Timbits, as they proudly show on their uniforms, and their leagues are Timbit Leagues.

Top shelf: the top area of the net, above the goalies shoulders.

Winter Classic: an outdoors game played around New Years.

teams

NHL: the National Hockey League, the major professional hockey league in North America. originally a Canadian league, hence the "National", it expanded into the states first with the Boston Bruins and now has over 32 teams between Canada and the US.

Eastern conference / Western conference: Groupings of teams that are close together regionally. All teams face all other teams in the NHL at least twice a season, but teams in the same conference will face each other many more times. They’re also vying for spots in the Stanley Cup Playoffs, as each conference can only send 8 teams (3 per division + 2 wild cards) based on the number of games they win and goals they score throughout the season. Conferences are divided up again into divisions, with Eastern having the Atlantic and Metropolitan divisions, and Western having Central and Pacific.

The Bruins: The Boston Bruins, a hockey team based in Boston. Also sometimes called “the black and golds” for their team colours.

The Habs: The Montreal Canadiens nickname, for “les habitants” or maybe just “hockey” due to the confusing H in their logo.

Canucks: Hockey team: Vancouver Canucks.

Devils: Hockey team: New Jersey Devils.

Hurricanes: Hockey team: Carolina Hurricanes

Islanders: One of New York’s two hockey teams. The other is the New York Rangers.

Leafs: Hockey team: Toronto Maple Leafs. Worst team with the most rabid fan base, despite their constant proclivity to embarrass everyone by choking every year.

Oilers: Hockey team: Edmonton Oilers.

Panthers: Hockey team: Florida Panthers.

Penguins: Hockey team: Pittsburgh Penguins.

Sabres: Hockey team: Buffalo Sabres

Sens: Hockey team: Ottawa Senators.

Toronto Six: Hockey team: a professional women's hockey team based out of Toronto. one of two Canadian teams in the Premier Hockey Foundation, which is the current professional women's league in North America.

#hockey au #hockey glossary #carve your name into my chest #steddie hockey au #hex writes stuff #fanfiction related #fanfiction reference #this is mostly for linking to #updated jan 23rd #updated for chapter 8

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

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Save The Date Chapter 2 ~Echoes Of A Song~

Previously in Powerplay

Tom gave her a quick hug and slapped Jamie on the back. "Great game, pal!"

Jamie nodded absentmindedly and worriedly looked at her. "Ye alright, Sassenach? Ye're awfully jumpy. Ye look like as if something has spooked the hell out of ye."

"Aye," Tom agreed, his brows creasing deeply. "Ye look white as a sheet. I hope it has nought to do with me."

"Don't be silly," she winced, touching her brow and trying to get her breathing back to normal.

Jamie gently touched her forehead, where she'd banged herself against his chin. "Does that hurt? That was some impact."

"It'll be fine," she insisted, closing her eyes briefly at Jamie's featherlike caress.

"Ye sure?"

She glanced at Jamie and then at Tom and then at Jamie again. When they continued to stare at her with a mixture of worry and confusion in their eyes, she let out an exasperated sigh and gave them her signature death glare. "Wot? I said I'm fine. It's not like I'm going to get a concussion out of it. The worst outcome will be probably some light bruising or a tiny bump." They didn't look convinced.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Jamie stepped into the pub and scanned the room. Though it was jammed packed with shinty enthusiasts and Saturday night regulars, it didn't take long to spot Claire. Besides his height affording him a good vantage point, her long willowy frame, untamed curls, and lively manner instantly set her apart. She was stood with a group and looked like she was in a deep discussion with his sister Jenny. When Tom stopped by her side to hand her a drink, her eyes lit up, and her lips twitched in amusement at something said. For a moment, he found himself stranded in awe, watching every small gesture and expression she made, radiating an aura that amplified the physical appeal that was uniquely hers. His body stirred, and a lump wedged in his throat. Christ, she's so beautiful, and in six weeks, she's officially mine! How did I get to be so lucky?

As if she'd read his thoughts, her eyes flew up to meet his, and she beamed. Face flushed and glowing, she waved and animatedly beckoned him over. There might be dark circles under her eyes, but that didn't take away the delight she exuded. That few seconds of distress he'd seen on her earlier seemed to have passed, and though she'd tried to reassure him it was just the strain of travelling back and forth to London, he couldn't shake the feeling off that there was more to it. They definitely had to talk about it later, but momentarily, he really needed to tone down his proprietorial and over-protective attitude, or else he'd dim her spirit. He didn't want that when she looked so happy right now.

He was about to make a move towards her when he noticed Claire's attention was beginning to be drawn into many directions. His sister attempted to pull her back into a conversation, and Tom raised his glass for a toast. His teammate's wife stopped by and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek in greeting. Though it was a tempting thought to yank her away from the group, he swallowed the impulse and decided to let her be, his love for her extinguishing the spark of worry and irritation of not having her to himself. She'd just arrived from London and needed this distraction to decompress, and Jamie wasn't about to take that away from her. Before he could change his mind, he pointed at the bar and made a motion to her of going to get a drink, and she responded with a thumbs up and an air kiss.

It took considerable effort to tear his gaze away and start moving, but the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind catapulted him back to reality.

Navigating his way through groups of revellers, he smiled despite himself, glad that his sister and his soon wife-to-be were getting along. After the two had taken off to a rocky start, he was glad their differences had been somewhat resolved - Jenny kind of refraining from interfering with their lives and Claire trying to put behind their unpleasant start. They weren't close and probably never would be, but at least they were on talking terms. At least and most likely where their wedding preparation was a concern.

When he finally made it to the bar, he saw his older brother watching football on one of the flatscreens. Clapping Willie on the back, he waved down the passing barmaid. "I'll have what he's having and another one for him, please."

Willie swung around and peered over the rim of his pint glass. He placed his beer down and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "Ah, the man of the hour has finally arrived," he grinned.

Jamie pocketed his phone and slid onto a stool. "Man of the hour? I dinnae think so." Squinting, he checked the football score on TV and fist-pumped the air when he saw Celtic leading by two goals. Thrilled with the result, he turned to face his brother. "Ye're the one who brought it home, mind?"

"Weel, that might have been the case, but my goal wouldn't have been possible if ye hadn't broken through that solid wall of defence and given that delicious pass. I saw the video recording and must admit it was a thing of beauty the way ye controlled the ball and executed the move." Willie ribbed him with his elbow and smirked. "Is there any chance that yer excellent performance has anything to do with Claire watching? Showing off to yer ladylove, perhaps?"

"I had nae idea she was arriving today," he replied, nodding his thanks at the barmaid when their drinks arrived. He shifted on his seat and raised his pint glass at his brother. "I only realised she was there watching the game when the final whistle was blown."

Willie watched him down a healthy measure of his beer. "Ye dinnae sound too pleased."

Jamie placed his glass down and glanced over at Claire. When she caught his gaze, she mouthed, I love you. He felt his face heat up, and his heart rate kicked up a notch. Whenever she did something like that, everything flew out the window. As he'd learned over the past year, nothing ever went according to plan when it came to this lass. Trying to understand what had spooked her earlier, his plans had been to ask her about it and then tell her off for failing to mention her arrival today. He'd even promised himself not to let her off the hook easily, knowing she'd brush it off as nothing. But looking now at her come-hither looks, his earlier concerns were all but almost forgotten and suddenly seemed inconsequential in retrospect. To add to his dwindling resolve, his plans to talk had been replaced with mental scenes of a sexual nature. Ah, sweet Jesus! He rubbed his face and forced himself to refocus on Willie before he embarrassed himself and did something like throw her over his shoulder and take her home. Shaking his head as if it would rid him of his carnal thoughts, he took another swig of his beer. "She's a stubborn woman and willnae be told. That's all I have to say to that."

Willie barked out a laugh. "It takes one to know one, and ye love her for it."

"Aye, that's true, I suppose," Jamie replied with a sigh.

"And ye wouldnae want her any other way."

"No, I wouldnae."

Someone from behind him hollered "foul," causing their attention to revert back to the TV. Watching the slow-motion replay of an illegal tackle, the brothers shouted curses at the flatscreen and waited with bated breaths as a Ranger player was awarded a penalty kick. The next tense minutes seemed to go on forever, but when the ball was saved by the goalkeeper, they both jumped out of their stools and let out a groan of relief.

"Yesss!" Willie slammed down his glass on the bar and ordered another round.

"Fuck, that was close," Jamie muttered into his pint.

"Aye, too close." Willie let out a low whistle and slumped back onto his stool. "So, how's the wedding planning moving along?" he asked, changing the subject. "Not long to go before ye're a married man."

Jamie contemplated his brother's words as he watched the barmaid served them another round of drinks. He and Claire should have married on the day he proposed and skipped all the hassles of wedding planning. But, instead, the preparations for their upcoming nuptials were putting Claire under a lot of unnecessary stress, thrust into arrangements she'd rather not have. Even though Jenny had taken upon herself to slot into the role of a wedding planner, still he could tell Claire was daunted by all the fuss. "The wedding, ye say?" he finally responded with a sigh. "Jenny's in her element organising it. Ye'd think it's her own wedding the way she's walking around making grand plans and insisting what's best. I'm surprised Claire hasn't throttled her yet."

Willie frowned. "Has our Jenny gone back to her meddling ways? Because if so, that wee busybody needs a right telling off and ..."

Jamie cut him off. "Hold yer horses. I'm no' even sure if I'd call it meddling. Claire has a lot on her plate at the moment. I reckon she's happy enough to let Jenny run the show, what with her trips to London sorting out her book publication and her house in Oxford. I havenae been much of a big help either with all the amount of work ye, and I have."

"Hmm ...I just dinnae like the sound of Jenny taking over, that's all. She may mean well, but she has this awful habit of bossing everyone around."

Jamie shrugged as he grabbed his beer. "I dinnae like it either. But if Claire's alright with it, I just have to trust her on that one. Besides, I dinnae have a clue about wedding preparations. I wouldnae even know where to start."

"Ye could've hired a wedding planner," Willie pointed out, clinking his fresh pint against Jamie's glass.

Impatience snaked its way through him. "Ye really think I havenae proposed that idea?" Jamie shot. He took another swig of his pint and then shook his head. He'd already suggested that to Claire, but she hadn't had the heart to deny Jenny the role, seeing it as an opportunity for her to get to know his sister better and smooth their relationship.

Willie ignored the sarcasm and sipped his beer. "Weel, just make sure Claire is definitely on board with everything Jenny is doing. It's yer wedding and not our sister's pet project."

Jamie resignedly waved a hand. "Dinnae fash. Claire's no' shrinking violet. She'll put Jenny in her place if it all gets too much and if she has anything to say ...trust me, my future wife has plenty enough to say ... she'll come right out with it."

Willie didn't look convinced, and he gave Jamie a sceptical glance before resuming watching football.

Though money wasn't an issue since Claire had inherited a fortune and he had reasonable savings put away, they'd only wanted a small and simple intimate wedding. But from the moment they'd announced their engagement during a family dinner, attended by his godfather, Murtagh, Claire's uncle Lamb and a few extended families from his mother's side, everything had gone out of control. His parents had been thrilled, but before he and Claire could express their wish for a small wedding, his parents had gotten carried away with ideas and suggestions for a grand family affair. He was about to put a stop to it, but Claire had squeezed his hand under the table and subtly shaken her head at him. It had been apparent she didn't want to spoil the families' excitement of the news. It had been bad enough his godfather and uncle Lamb had often nearly gone head to head with one another after they'd been introduced that night. Old wounds clearly hadn't healed because Murtagh had taken an immediate dislike to uncle Lamb when he saw the older man's physical similarities to Claire's father. It had been a painful reminder for his godfather of a long-ago love he'd lost.

Matters then hadn't improved when uncle Lamb had enthusiastically agreed to a big wedding, to his parents' delight, naturally. He'd cited it was what Claire's parents would have wanted, and he'd even offered to foot the bill. Needless to say, if Jamie had had his way, he would have chosen to elope, ideally somewhere up further north or on some remote island with just the two of them. And he was pretty confident Claire would have agreed under different circumstances. But as it was, she wanted to please the family, and she'd told him if she was going to live in the Highlands, she didn't want to start married life with people resenting her for settling for a downscaled wedding party. He'd tried to reassure her that wouldn't happen, but she hadn't been convinced. So, in the end, Claire had relented to a grand wedding to keep the peace. He didn't like it one bit that she'd been pressured to do something she didn't want, but she'd assured him it would be fine. But the way Jamie saw it, she had no experience with a large and loud close-knit family. And while he looked to his family as a source of love, support and comfort, life with them could be chaotic, messy, clinging, and annoyingly, in your face. Claire may look like she's taking everything in a stride, but he could tell she was overwhelmed by all the fuss and bustle.

The microphone tap and the noise of the pub dropping by half drew Jamie out of his musing. "What's happening?"

"Huh?" Willie craned over his shoulder and then grinned. "Oh, it's live band night. I almost forgot ... it's on tonight."

"That'll be our cue to go then." He picked up his glass and downed the rest of his drink. He couldn't wait to spend some quality time with Claire, just them for the rest of the weekend. "Christ, I havenae even meant to stay this long."

Willie dropped a heavy hand on Jamie's shoulder. "No' so fast, bràthair. I have a feeling ye might want to see this."

"I think no'," he muttered, wincing at the sharp crackle that blasted from the sound system. He brushed his brother's hand from his shoulder and stood up. "I havenae seen much of Claire. God knows, with my luck, something or someone will yank her from our alone time. So it's definitely time for us to go." He was just about to pull out his wallet to pay for their drinks when a familiar husky voice uttered, "...mic test" through the speakers, sending a jolt of shock through his system.

"Good evening, everyone," Claire spoke, tapping the microphone once more.

What the ...?

Willie pitched sideways and leaned into Jamie's ear. "I believe yer wife-to-be is about to say something, Jamie lad," he murmured.

Slowly, he turned around to face the stage, and there she was, the very sight of her mildly tipsy and shy, expanding his heart and lungs. He sank back onto the stool to take her in. Wisps of locks, dark auburn under the stage's harsh lights, creating a halo effect on her crown in tawny and reddish glints. Amber eyes lit, clear and golden as the finest whisky and scarlet rising on her cheeks. Crossing his arms across his chest, he watched her smile and then puff out a breath, a gesture that told him she was trying to calm her nerves.

Willie nudged Jamie with his elbow. "Ye alright?"

"Aye," he fibbed without taking his eyes off Claire. "Why shouldnae I be?" In his distracted state, he might have drunk slightly more than he'd intended and was unsure what he truly felt at that moment. Though he was happy to see her fitting in with the people he'd known all his life, when it came to her getting all these attentions, his possessive streak always grew an ugly head.

"For those who don't know me, my name is Claire," she began.

Willie chuckled. "Aye, that'll be right. 'Course everyone knows her. As if ye havenae told anyone with a penis who she is and who she belongs to."

Jamie ignored his brother as the crowd whistled and cheered, and she beamed at their response. Her voice sounded rich and smoky over the speakers, like melted chocolate and freshly ground coffee. He'd often said to her she had a bedroom voice, and by the looks of the captivated men, they probably thought so too. A feeling of restlessness laced his organs, and it took Herculean effort to tamp down the urge to carry her off the stage and take her home. Dragging a hand down over his face, he let out a rough exhale and forced himself to remain seated and wait.

What the bloody hell are ye up to, Sassenach?

She raised a hand to quieten her audience. "Now, you wonderful lot may be wondering what I'm doing up here when we have a live band and not karaoke night. Well ... I'm going to cut to the chase and tell you why." She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced at her feet. When her eyes came back up, she gazed straight at him. "I guess it's safe to say, love and too much alcohol make you do the craziest things."

There were shouts of agreement and whoops of delight, and he could feel all eyes on him. Of course, they all knew Claire was talking about him and that she was his, but that didn't take the feeling away that he was losing that tiny shred of composure not to act like a selfish bastard and shield her from everyone's scrutiny.

He kept his eyes plastered on her and saw something soft playing around the edges of her smile as she licked her lips and leaned closer to the microphone. "That said, I'm here to sing a song." More cheers and whistles ensued, but she shook her head. "I must warn you, though, I've never sung on my own in front of a crowd. The few times I've been up here on stage was when my mate, Annalise, needed a backup voice during karaoke nights. Unfortunately, my mate is not here to help me out ... she's in London. So tonight, I'm going to be brave, and I'll be singing solo."

"Ye can do this, Claire!" someone shouted.

She winked and smiled. "This song I'm about to sing is for a special someone who serenaded me a Rick Astley song in the village square over a year ago. I hope he doesn't mind me returning the favour." The guitarist behind her strummed a few whimsical opening chords, making the crowd roar with laughter and launched teasing remarks at Jamie.

He wasn't surprised at the reaction. How could anyone forget that incident? Almost everyone in Broch Mordha remembered or had heard what had transpired the night he'd serenaded Mary Hawkins thinking he'd been singing to Claire. Some had thought it was romantic, and others, he'd been a drunken menace. Ever since then, he'd often been teased about it, but Jamie couldn't care less. It had been the night he'd reunited with Claire after his stupidity nearly cost him the love of his life. He could have been dealt with far worse, and the repercussions of making a fool of himself would have been worth it every time.

Claire cleared her throat and clutched the microphone stand with both hands. "This song is a classic ...an old favourite of mine. It's about treasuring every moment spent with the one you love." As the guitarist began to play the familiar prelude, her eyes closed for a moment. When she opened them again and spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "Jamie, my love ...this song is for you."

The audience simmered to a hush as the melody rose, expanding from playful plucking to steady strumming resonance, and when the note hit the verse, she sang, soulful and almost haunting. She sang of treasured times of togetherness and not wanting to miss a single moment of anything, but her clearest words were in the chorus. Don't want to close my eyes, I don't want to fall asleep 'cause I'd miss you, baby, and I don't want to miss a thing. 'Cause even when I dream of you, the sweetest dream will never do. I'd still miss you, baby, and I don't want to miss a thing.

The way she looked at him as she sang made him forget to breathe. She looked at him like he was the most precious person in the world, telling him her heart was his, always have been and always would be. He was possessive and, at worst temperamental, but she didn't care. She embraced his every facet and flaw. He was everything to her, and she made it known with the song and by the tender way she looked at him.

As the song neared the end, his body took on some instinctive reflex in response to the crescendo. The pull was so powerful it felt like his very existence had just tilted in her direction, and everything was shifting towards her. He stood up and took a step. And then another, the entirety of his surroundings slowing and fading into the background. Though he was conscious of people looking at him, he couldn't feel beyond the woman who held his gaze.

Vaguely aware of the applause and whistles when the song finally ended, he stepped up the stage and pulled her to him. He curled a hand behind her neck and brought their foreheads together. "That was amazing, Sassenach."

Her breath released in a rush, and she smiled dreamily at him. "Take me home, Jamie."

"About bloody time," he muttered against her lips. "I've wanted to ages ago, but I didn't want to seem like a selfish bastard."

Her lips twitched, and she swayed against him. "I don't mind it sometimes when you're selfish with me, Jamie."

He cocked his head in question.

"How could I when you're selfless in the ways that matter?"

"Ye think so?"

Her hands slid around his neck. "Well ...even though you don't get panic attacks anymore, I know you loath going to the city. Yet you accompany me whenever you get a chance. And regardless of how much you hate us spending time apart, every time I leave for London on my own, you're always encouraging me to pursue my dreams."

"I dinnae like it one bit when we're not together," he admitted, without hesitation. "But it would be a sin to hide ye away and keep ye to myself." He brushed their nose together. "Ye're the bloody light, Sassenach."

"And you're the one who helps me shine," she whispered. She rose onto her tiptoes, and in front of the cheering packed pub, this beautiful woman who he loved more than he'd imagined possible kissed him. His worries about life's maddening uncertainty and her vulnerability dissolved into thin air, his attention collecting on the only thing that was truly guaranteed to him - this gift of now, a sliver of a singular beautiful moment. Their moment.

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Dear Readers,

Thank you so much for the warm welcome back and the feedback on my first chapter of Save the Date. I will keep this short as I have to get up early tomorrow. I am looking forward to your feedback when I wake up, and I hope you've enjoyed this latest instalment. Take care always and stay safe. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #savethedate #Jamie Fraser #claire beauchamp #claire beauchamp/jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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