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the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf · 4 months

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Chocolate Princess ♡

Willy Wonka x reader

Description - Y/n Ficklegruber can't help but become enamoured with the spectacularly peculiar man stood in the middle of the galleria.

Word count - 1.6k

warnings - fluff ♡

a/n: Watched Wonka today with my sister and my little cousins and honestly have never smiled so much during a film. Every bit of it was just pure wondourous imagination. And Timothee as Wonka was just too scrumptious! Who couldn't love him!

Masterlist

PART TWO

--♡--

I began everyday as I always did. Being ungraciously tumbled out of my pink satin sheets, poked and prodded by our various servants, squeezed into the most painstakingly prissy pink gingham dress (with a matching bow for extra faff), and hauled into my fathers car to join him on his way to work.

You see, I am the sole child of famed chocolatier Felix Ficklegruber. Since I had completed my mandatory years of studies, my days consisted of lounging about my fathers office in complete boredom. My mind practically weakened with the mundane repetitiveness of it all, and I knew it would surely combust if it was not stimulated soon. For 2 years now, I had been begging my father to allow me to study at the prestigious university at the edge of town. But each plea had been met with a scoff, an eyebrow raise and sharp “no”. Even the library was off limits.

I paced around his office, deliberately scuffing my mary janes against the carpet. I smirked at how each scrape made his face tick as if it was being flicked.

“Would you cease that infernal racket. I am trying to work, precious girl.”

“What work? All you do is sit up here eating your own chocolate.” I slumped down onto the disgustingly green couch.

“Please darling, you are giving me a headache, I must ring for my 8am mocha.” He picked up the telephone, clasping his fingers to his eyes.

I drummed my fingers against my dress and clicked my heels together. “You know,” I trailed off. “I wouldn’t be here to bother you at all if…I was at the library.”

The phone was slammed back onto the receiver which made me flinch. He rose from the desk and stalked his way towards me.

“No daughter of mine will be caught in some stuffy book prison-”

“That’s not entirely correct..”

“--That are refuge for the ugly, the untalented and the p–” He dry heaved. I winced at the possibility of another spew. “The p-” I lunged for a bowl as he spluttered.

“I know what you are going to say so maybe we should avoid any bodily functions.” I picked up his monogrammed hanky and wet it from my glass of water. I dabbed the cool liquid against his mouth. His eyes softened at my action and his hand softly clasped around my wrist.

“Sweetheart, you live in complete luxury. Have treasures other children couldn’t even dream of. Why can’t you just stay.” My gaze fell. His hands held my shoulders to turn me around and led me towards the towering window which overlooked the galleria. “Besides, one day you will inherit my pride and joy, my fortune, the very thing that ignites my soul, my–”

“Who’s that?” I interrupted, and pointed my finger to a beautifully disheveled man who had risen atop his suitcase in order to address the crowd. I quirked a smile and took in the strange man, who was truly more a boy, and his frightfully exciting appearance.

The thickness of the window meant I couldn’t hear what the boy was saying but his movements and expressions delighted me to no end. I giggled as he began to flap, mimicking a butterfly. I gasped as he produced from his shallow hat, a large jar of what appeared to be chocolate eggs. But once he took the top off, I shrieked in delight, as each little egg floated up as if carried by wings.

I felt my father stiffen before he shoved me away from the window.

“Now, now sweetheart. Do not bother looking at this man any longer. Clearly another hopeful vagrant but do not worry.” He lifted my chin with his pinky. “We shall deal with him right now.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly who was ‘we’.

--♡--

Once the three had left their respective stores, I snuck out of our own and managed to squeeze my way through the crowd so I was left behind my father and my, and I regret to say it, godfathers.

They each took a bite of the treats offered by the mysterious man who beamed at them with awe filled eyes.

Even from my limited view I could see the flickers of enjoyment cross each of their eyes as they questioned the different ingredients. But my gazing was caught by the top hatted man. His smile grew even brighter as our eyes met. I felt unsure in the presence of a man such as him and all my normal instincts failed. So I settled on a little wave. He offered a small wave back.

“--100%, the absolute WORST!”

The man jumped out of his skin in glee, mishearing Slugworth because of his focus on me.

“Did you hear that ladies and gentlemen, an endorsement by–wait did you say the worst?”

Anger bubbling in my blood, I finally made my presence known.

“You lie, Arthur. I saw your face! You haven’t enjoyed a treat that much since daddy figured out how to make marshmallow flavored chocolate milk.”

There were murmurs amongst the three in agreement and fond memory of that chocolate milk. But they snapped back and I was held firmly by my father who apologized to Slugworth for my rude behavior. A cane was held down on the hand that gripped me. I looked up and met the sweet face of its owner.

“I am terribly sorry.” With a practiced flick I was released. I looped my hand around my saviours available arm. He led me backwards in comical cautiousness. “But I don’t think she’d like to be held for what comes next.”

Suddenly, the three men began to lift into the air.

“The hoverbugs from mumbai! They love chocolate! You must have put their eggs in the treat!” I exclaimed excitedly, whilst watching the hilarious display.

“Exactly.” In my glee, I hadn’t noticed the adoring look which the chocolatier had fixed on the side of my head.

The fun was interrupted by the chief of police. I rolled my eyes. Slugworth must have phoned.

“Now Ms Ficklegruber if you’d kindly step away from the criminal.” The chief of police gestured and I was led away as they interrogated the man whose name I still didn’t know. I looked on sadly as he was forced to give up his earnings. I shoved off the policemen’s arms, I made my way back over to the man whose face was as solemn as how happy it had been just minutes before. The excitement around the galleria had dimmed as various floating consumers were returned to gravity.

“I am really sorry.” I gestured to the measly sovereign he was left with.

“Don’t be. It was a law and I broke it. These fine men were merely doing their job. But a new day shall bring new promise.” He soldiered on with a smile and once again patted his hat back upon his head. “At least I can make rent.” He flicked the sovereign up and caught it once again.

“Where are you staying?”

“Scrubbits.”

My face fell in sympathy. “You didn’t read the fine print?” I pitied the poor man and what was about to befall him. Scrubbits contract was a common warning amongst residents but as I truly took in the whimsical nature which surrounded this man, I knew he wasn't from here. And that made me smile. This place could use something new.

He sheepishly scratched the back of his head and lowered his eyeline.

“You can’t read?” I questioned but my tone couldn't help but soften.

“I always thought my mama would teach me, but eventually my pursuits became solely chocolate.” I reached out and grasped his arm. Stroking the velvet beneath my fingertips.

Before I even knew what they were, the words left my mouth. “I could teach you.”

He was surprised. “You would? But why?”

“You’re interesting.” I peered back to the shop which loomed behind me. “I need that.”

“Forgive me, I have not even introduced myself.” He took off his hat and leaned into a deep bow. “My name is Willy Wonka.”

I giggled but responded with a curtsy of my own. “Y/n Ficklegruber.”

At the mention of my last name he looked towards the ceiling where my father still hung, gesturing feebly. “Wow. You really have chocolate in your blood. No wonder you’re so sweet.” Both our eyes widened when we realized what he said. A blush spread across my heated cheeks and meeting Willy’s eyes suddenly became impossible.

“Y/N GET AWAY FROM THAT CANDY GRABBING SCOUNDREL!” My fathers voice beat down from the ceiling where he had been watching my entire interaction with Wonka.

“Meet me at the fountain, tonight, 10pm sharp. Daddy will be in a sugar crash by then. It’ll be easy to sneak out.”

Before I could rush off to avoid my father once his feet returned to earth, Willy halted my movements and placed his empty palm out in front of me.

“Before you go, I want to give you something. You shouldn’t have anything I make in bulk. You deserve something a little more…” He placed a cloth over his palm and ripped it off revealing a deep red chocolate heart decorated with tiny flakes of gold. “Bespoke.”

I placed the treat in my mouth and audibly moaned at the taste. This man was a true genius. My father is going to be so mad. I could jump for joy.

“Till tonight, Mr Wonka.”

“Please, call me Willy.” I leaned up and delicately kissed his cheek in a way of goodbye.

--♡--

That night after discovering the true horror of what being a “guest” of Scrubbits included, Willy begged and pleaded with his newest friend, Noodle, to help him sneak out for the night because, in his words, he’d seen…

“The most beautiful girl to ever exist and if I don’t get to see her again tonight, my heart might just burst out of my chest!”

--♡--

#willy wonka x reader #willy wonka x you #willy wonka #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet wonka #wonka #timothee!wonka x reader #wonka x reader #wonka 2023

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 months

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youtube

Very funny Staged-like opening of BAFTAs 2024 with David and Michael! :D ❤

David: Can you hear me? Michael, how is it going.

Michael: Yeah, I don't have time for pleasantries, David. Some of us are big in America. In fact, I have a zoom with LA in ten minutes.

David: It's 04:00 a.m. in LA.

Michael: Well, that was the only time I could fit them in, so they're getting up early. Anyway, look, I just wanted to confirm, I'm going to drop the new dog off on Sunday morning. We've called him Bark Ruffalo. It's cute isn’t it?

David: That is actually quite good. But listen, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm afraid I can’t dog sit on Sunday.

Georgia: Oh, hi, Michael.

Michael: Yeah, hi, Georgia. Look, I don't want any of your excuses, David, you promised. I can't leave him with a neighbour because he peed in her kitchen.

Georgia: Right. Whereas we are desperate for him to come and pee in our kitchen.

David: I know that I did promise to dog sit on Sunday but since I promised, something else has come up and I-

Michael: Well, that sounds like a you problem.

David: Hi, Stan how are things?

Stanley Tucci: Hi, David. How are you?

David: Okay, listen, I need a favour. Michael Sheen has asked me to look after his dog on Sunday, but I agreed to host the BAFTA Film Awards on the same day. I was wondering if you could look after his dog for me?

Stanley Tucci: I would love to do that for you, David.

David: Oh, Stan, you're a lifesaver. Thank you so much.

Stanley Tucci: Is there anything else I can do for you?

David: No, looking after the dog is... I mean, that's obviously amazing.

Stanley Tucci: I could wash your car or something or the windows in your home.

David: You're not really gonna look after the dog, are you?

Stanley Tucci: And the BAFTA for Catching On Very Quickly goes to...

David: Himesh! Oh, Himesh, I think your computer is frozen. Oh, no it’s not frozen because I just saw someone.

Himesh Patel: Look, I know you're just calling because you want something from me.

David: Yeah. What are you doing on Sunday? Oh for crying out loud. Tom Hiddleston!

Tom Hiddleston: Hey, David. What's the pitch?

David: Pitch is dog sitting for Michael Sheen.

Tom Hiddleston: Wow. Okay. Yeah. Interesting. I'm guessing that we're going for, like, funny.

David: Could be funny, it’s a cute dog.

Tom Hiddleston: Yeah, I suppose the dog sitter initially could present as benign, and then he and the dog get up to all kinds of hijinx and ultimately disrupt stuffy old Michael Sheen's boring life. But for the better.

David: Listen did your agent tell you that I wanted to talk to you about a film?

Tom Hiddleston: Well yeah, obviously, unless you're actually, you know, calling me to ask me to dogsit for Michael Sheen.

David: No. Oh. Dame Judi. Long time no see.

Judi Dench: I thought you were going to be that beautiful Michael Sheen. What do you want?

David: Well, I wonder if you'd be up for a bit of dog sitting. I promised to look after Bark Ruffalo for Michael on Sunday, but I'm double booked.

Judi Dench: David. Bark Ruffalo. He pees everywhere. And anyway, I shall be watching a BAFTA Film Awards with a big glass of champagne. What's with the kilt?

David: Wait and see.

Judi Dench: Ooh.

David: Hi, David Tennant signing in. There's a courier here with something for production.

announcement: David Tennant to stage. David Tennant to stage.

David: Hi. Hello. Hi, everyone. Hi. Hi. Hi there.Sorry. I've got-Are you good with dogs? Yeah, and not on your dress. I'm sorry. Thank you. Hi. Hi. Sorry. Hello. Hello. Hi. This is fine. This is fine. This is. Michael? Michael?! What? What is this?

Michael: What are you doing there?

David: I'm hosting the show.

Michael: What?!

David: This is why you wanted me to dog sit, so you could sit there?

Michael: Yeah.

David: You going to have to take the dog.

Michael: What? What if I have to go up on the stage to be given an award? Yeah. All right. Give me.

David: Yeah. Come on. Get that one. You take that. And this weird thing.

Michael: Was this Scottish man mean to you? All right, come on to me. Oh, darling, hello, hello.

David: Never work with animals or Michael Sheen. Not a great start. Not a great start. Don't worry, though, tonight is going to go smoother than Ken's chest. For one thing, he's not a dog anyway. He is actually being played by Andy Serkis. Look at that. What a performance. Andy.

#david tennant #michael sheen #staged #david and michael #funny #videos #transcripts #bafta 2024 #awwwww #stanley tucci #himesh patel #tom hiddleston #judi dench #Youtube

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yanderestarangel · 7 months

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⋆ 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍!𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎'𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 ⋆

A/N: He's back bitches, DADDY MIGUEL O'HARA.

SYNOPSIS: Miguel is a 45-year-old man who works in a local library, also giving tutoring classes in literature to the local village community, you decide to go visit him after being on vacation, awakening a side of himself that Miguel didn't know.

TW: Yandere themes, age gap, afab anatomy, betrayal, dark themes, threats, manipulation, smut, au.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA -He leads a peaceful life, always opening the library at 9 am and closing at 9 pm, sometimes staying overtime to look at the landscape outside the large windows, to try to forget his failed marriage with his wife.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who has the same patterns every day, namely: taking both children to school by car, buying the same fruits to eat throughout the day - a few dates, an apple and a bottle of coffee aluminum portable, hot and sugar-free in the dark green side pouch he carries everything he needs for that day -

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - What you see in a boring life, everything was the same, he worked out, went for walks on the weekends, watched the same period films after 11pm, in the same leather armchair that got hot in the uncomfortable summer heat, drinking the same beer while the black and white images of the Hollywood film passed through the lens of his glasses, while he smelled the cold food made by his wife, who as always, had left the children with him and gone out.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who woke up late that day due to the hangover from the several beers he had on Sunday, rushing to drop his children off at school and avoid an argument with his wife early in the morning. He calmly went to the library, after all, there was no one there at that end of the world. But he was wrong. He soon saw you, sitting on the steps of the cold concrete stairs while waiting for someone to open the library, he had never seen you in the community, so it was a surprise for him to see someone so beautiful and different from the routine faces in the village. Miguel got out of the car, adjusting his round glasses, giving you a polite "good morning", his strong accent mixed with the smell of coffee coming from his lips, he opened the library while looking you up and down, he would casually ask you your name and what you do there. You spoke your reasons politely, while explaining that you were on vacation and decided to visit the tourist attractions of that village, such as the lighthouse and rough sea, as well as the large library, which, in addition to needing some literature classes, you two were taking Miguel O'Hara nods and gives a practically invisible sideways shy smile.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who gets excited like a young man when he sees you interested in literature, Miguel would make a point of giving you some books as a gift, explaining about each one, especially if you like gothic literature, such as: Bram Stocker, Marion Zimmer Bradley, Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stocker - or horror stories, he automatically falls in love if you, speaking excerpts from his favorite stories while pouring you some coffee, sitting in front of him while the two of you did a literary duo circle, the voices echoing through the ancient wood.

"-With a long scrutinizing look at the shadow, which frightens me, which haunts me, And I dream of what no mortal has ever dreamed of, But the vast and silent silence, silent remains; the quiet stillness." -O'Hara reads with a strong, hoarse accent, his voice was raw, reverberating his passion for each verse and word he spoke, holding the book in his thick fingers, now, with the abandonment of the wedding ring he wore, even though he was still married, you didn't need to know that detail.

"-Only you, unique and beloved word, Lenora, you, like a scarce sigh, leave my sad mouth; And the echo, which heard you, whispered to you in space; It was just that, nothing more." -You completed, reading your part in the tale of "The Crow" while feeling the older man's gauze on your body, while Salvatore's hands massaged your bare shoulder, lightly adjusting the clothes you wore, a long and possessive touch.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who offers you a ride home, turning on the radio while asking you everything about yourself, if you were dating, if you had traveled with someone, he expected you to be totally alone, totally for him. Miguel drops you off at home while he says a quick goodbye, but he actually just hides the car in the middle of some trees, looking out your windows, writing down your nighttime habits in a diary - he got home later that night, his wife noticed the delay, but he just made up an excuse, mostly lying that he had lost the ring in a library cleaning, which was a lie, he got rid of the ring in the sea, near the local town port -

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who studied everything about you on the days you two were alone in the library, becomes his refuge. Don't get him wrong, O'Hara loves his children, but he hates coming home and seeing that his marriage is a failure, and that the woman he was once so in love with, young days that passed through his life in long ago, Now she's just a strange and cold woman, but you? You are his treasure, always happy, smiling sweetly, asking if he is okay, or if he has eaten that day, if he needs help with something in his work as a librarian, you are so angelic, so beautiful, so his. You're totally his, aren't you?

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who lies to you about his private life, saying that his wife and he are divorced and he just lets her live close to the children, he lies so naturally that even he himself believes in the madness of his mind.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA- Who finds an excuse to leave you up late with him in the library, telling you about some more books, and giving you a letter, letters that were always sealed in luxurious black paper like an envelope, with a red coat of arms with an 'M' for Miguel, big in the center, he always asked you to open it at home, they were poems and poetry written by him, about you, but each time, with each letter given to you, they became darker, more intense, more... Intimate.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Which makes you sit on his muscular legs that night in the peace of the library, while his big, calloused hands lightly run over your thighs, while he praises you. "-Your skin is soft like the finest and purest silk, your lips are full and shiny with life, your smile is like the epitome of beauty, I look at you and see an angel, not even the richest kings who had harems with several women And men, none of them come close to your beauty, mi angelito, did you know that? Your heart is so pure and beautiful, your soul is practically eradicated from your carnal being." -Miguel spoke hoarsely, as he forced you to look at him, his eyes shone, not only with enlightenment but with love, a sick love for you.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA -He fingers you slowly and lightly, giving you kisses on the head, feeling the smell and softness of your hair, his fingers enter and curve slightly, he was an expert in that, he wanted to make you come, to make you see the stars in the sky pleasure he could give you. Miguel praises you even more when he sees you moaning so beautifully, writhing in his lap, while he whispers in your ear how well you do it, being such a good girl/boy for him, giving yourself to him like that, like you It's beautiful when your pussy tightens around his fingers, how perfect you are when you let your sweet saliva run down your lips like that, while he gives you all the pleasure, making you squirm on his arm full of veins and scars from the time he had, dirtying the papers and reports he signed, but he doesn't fight with you, no my sweet girl/boy, you are his, Miguel just applies a chaste kiss to your temple, salty with the sweat of sexual effort and the heat of lust from your body, while he just said everything was going to be okay.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - Who was worried when you didn't show up after a few days, so he left work early, seeing you at a local fair. He tried to talk to you, but you were disappointed in him, you had found out he was married, and you felt dirty for giving yourself to him. Miguel O'Hara froze immediately, but he soon recovered his posture, telling you in a serious and cold air that she didn't mean anything to him and you did, but you didn't want to listen, just saying how rubbish he was as a human being and leaving the room. running, hiding in the crowd, he didn't go after you, just walking away with a neutral and serious air, thinking about the next step he would take, and he knew exactly what it would be. He spent every day at your house, placing flowers, chocolates, teddy bears, gifts and books on your doorstep, even if you threw them in the trash, he bought more and more, even more expensive and extravagant. Miguel didn't leave you alone, going to your house every day, even trying to knock on the window, but you didn't pay attention to him, but he didn't care, he wasn't going to give up, he stopped the car every day after his shift from work to look at you,or look at the lighting in your house, where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with.

YANDERE DILF LIBRARIAN!MIGUEL O'HARA - That on your last day in the village, he left you a letter, in a red envelope, you didn't want to read it, but your curiosity got the better of you, with you finally reading the content of the man's letter.

My dear, (Y/N) This may sound strange, but I like it when you hide like a scared little bunny, running away from me like that, as if I were a predator? so I am offended my dear. Do you know how far I'm willing to go for you? Do you know exactly what things I can do to try? Do you know the dark thoughts I can carry out with your friends or family? If you gave in. We would be even more than perfect together, we were born to be each other's my love. Just as the sun rises day after day, just as the moon appears in the dead of night. Just as the stars shine in the black sky of the dark and cold night, void of voice. Just as birds spend their lungs in a melodious song, unable to be stopped by foolish men. Just like every natural phenomenon and incapable of being stopped, I will make you mine. just mine. You can try to scream, try to escape or even ignore me, like a mirror covered with a fine linen fabric, I'm still there, watching you, attentive to your smallest details, your flaws, your sins, your darkest, hidden fears. inside your mind, the intimate and core of your most secret suffering... I know everything, I know you more than you know yourself. We are destined to be one, drawn by a happy and unhappy destiny, a piece of the gods perhaps, who are we to question love? In fact, I'll ask you one more time, you love me, right? Just try to say you don't love me... Then I will destroy you... I k-

You didn't even finish reading the letter, hearing heavy footsteps coming from the back door, while you saw a tall figure standing in the dark shadow of the hallway, something dripping on the floor while those familiar and maddened brown eyes stared at you, deep in your soul, Miguel O'Hara.

"-And you know, (Y/N)... you shouldn't leave the door open."

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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windowtintingsan · 2 years

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#windshield repair #auto glass repair #headlight restoration #vehicle wraps and car wraps #clear bra and paint protection film #window tinting

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coeurify · 1 year

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THE PERFECT PAIR 2;

ELLIE WILLIAMS

·˚ ༘ * “But don’t think we could help it, no"

pairing: bff!ellie williams x fem!reader. part one. summary: part TWO! you forgot to answer ellie, shes upset. you make up for it with a party, what could go wrong! wc 6.9k warnings: ig you could say slightly toxic friendship. ellies jealous. blink and you miss it jealous reader. almost.. sorta.. kinda kiss.. slight angst slight fluff.

You dreamt of the past a lot. Ever since you were little, more often than not, your dreams were much different than the other kids around you. When they spoke about their dreams of dragons and kings, you could only pipe in with the nostalgic nighttime story of your most recent favorite memory that played like a film reel while you slept.

Tonight, you dreamt of Ellie. You dreamt of your noses pressed to the glass of your parent’s car window, heads tucked side by side as you pulled up to a building. Large bulky letters read out the museum's name on a sign in the blue sky. The sky was always more blue in your dreams.

You had been twelve— just turning Thirteen, mere months into meeting. Ellie’s hair was always pulled back into a ponytail back then, strands of deep reddish brown hair peeking out of the hair elastics. Even now, with the muddy and watercolor-like painting of your dream, you could count the freckles on dream Ellie’s cheeks. It was your birthday, and you had been carted with Ellie to the museum near your house. A promise of a day full of Ellie laughing and tugging you around to explain the space section to you ensued.

You dreamt of Ellie’s slightly sweaty palm intertwined with your own as she pulled you around the crowded floors, gasping as she swore under her breath at every exciting exhibit. You would hush her each time, hitting her arm— just like you still did today.

You dreamt of your favorite exhibit. The one that made you love the stars so much. You had entered a dark room, only you and Ellie. Her voice was hushed as she pointed out different star patterns painted in glowing colors on the wall. That was the moment you knew you wanted Ellie to be your best friend.

You dreamt of the green Dinosaur plush Ellie had paid for with crumbled-up money in the back pocket of her jeans at the gift shop. The one she had shoved into your arms and exclaimed, “Happy Birthday!”

When you woke up, your face was pressed into that exact stuffed animal. Though the once soft fur was a bit rough now, almost seven years older, it was still more comfortable than the pillows below your head. It still held that sense of nostalgia you laid to rest every night that other options didn’t.

Your eyes squeeze before they open, arms reaching to pull the dinosaur against your chest instead. You imagine it’s just as new as it had been the day Ellie got it for you. You imagine the sky is as blue as it was in your dream, that you and El were still those carefree pre-teens. But then your alarm goes off.

Fucking Mondays. Blinking a few times to adjust to the light pouring into your eyes, you reach blindly for your phone. Fingers wrap around it a moment later, the bright screen causing another wave of blurriness to your sleepy eyes. Even through the patchy vision, it's clear that you have a few notifications.

From Ellie.

Multiple. From last night.

“Fuck,” you groan out loud this time, gaining the attention of Dina from across the room. She’s already sitting up, scribbling away in a notebook that you assume to be rushed classwork.

“You ok?”

A hand comes to wipe across your face, rubbing the skin of your cheek gently. Dina asking is sweet, but you struggle to answer honestly. “I'm good, yea. I just have to see Ellie.”

You’re up and out of bed before Dina can ask further questions, stomach turning as you look at your phone screen again. The three separate texts make you feel a little sick, especially the last one that came hours later— likely when Ellie was already frustrated.

It shouldn’t make you so queasy, something as simple as sleeping through texts. But it was Ellie. You never missed Ellie’s texts like that. Especially not her asking you to come over.

You trip over the small rug near your bed as you rush to the connected bathroom to change, earning a gasped laugh from your roommate.

“Jesus, slow down,” she calls to you through the shut bathroom door, but you’re too focused on the task currently at hand— pulling the shirt over your head without bumping into something else.

Dina watches your panicked-looking face as you step back out into the floor of your shared bedroom a few moments later, her lips pursing in confusion.

“Did Ellie die or something?” Dina jokes with curious seeming eyes, pressing her notebook closed. “You’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off.”

You shake your head with a small half-assed smile, “No- I just uh- I forgot I promised to meet her this morning,” it seemed easier to lie than to admit your heart was in your throat because you slept through a movie invitation. Your hand goes for the sweatshirt bunched up on the floor, pressing your fingers into the cloth of the grey sleeves. It was a bit too warm to wear it, you know that, but there's a sense of comfort that soothes the aching in your stomach when it's pulled over your head, and you move to the door.

“Hey,” Dina pipes up as you step across the threshold, “Jesse and I are going to a friend’s tonight, Danny. He’s got some off campus apartment he’s having a little party at. Do you... Wanna come?” The question falls from Dina’s lips simply, her attention moving from your eyes to the top she's readjusts after a night of sleep. But the way her gaze flicks up a few times tells you that this was an important question for the brunette.

“On a Monday?”

“Oh!” your roommate’s nose crinkles as she mulls over the fact that yes-- it was in fact a Monday, which wasn't exactly the perfect day for a party. “Yea, I guess that’s not helping my case hm? I promise it won't be crazy. Dan’s friends are chill.”

You think about it for a second, shifting from one foot to another. It was a good opportunity to get closer to Dina. To maybe make some new friends you had come to have missing space for after Jade and you stopped talking, putting you down her and all her friends. But it was a Monday, and you definitely couldn’t have a hangover for your sociology lecture on Tuesday. Instead of pointing any of this out though, you find yourself instead asking...

“Can I bring Ellie?”

It seemed Dina was expecting this question, waving a hand your way. “Yea, I already told Jesse it’d be two people.” For some reason, that admission has your neck feeling a little hot. Your eyes find the wall to try and cover the awkward noise your throat makes.

“Ok.. yea, cool. I should be able to go. My last class is like three today.” Your feet bounce just lightly as you speak, which Dina notices.

Dina smiles, clapping her hands together. “Great. Now shoo before you start vibrating in your spot or something.”

You nod, offering another smile before your dash out into the hallway. Instead of turning and heading for Ellie’s dorm, you make a beeline for the elevator. It was early in the morning. Too early to show up pounding at Ellie’s door when she was likely grumpy from the sun and the previous night. No, you needed a peace offering.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

That peace offering came in the shape of slightly cold dorm cafeteria french toast and waffles, tucked into a styrofoam takeout box. It was Ellie’s favorite, but she always woke up too late for them. Stingy college kids always stole them all before the first 9 am classes even started.

You held the styrofoam in your free hand as you reached forward to knock at the door. Before you could, it flew open-- both you and the person at the door jumping. You are met with the sight of dark hair and wide blinking brown eyes. Rose. They smile apologetically at you, repeating your name and different versions of ‘sorry’ as they press past you to get through the door.

Ellie’s roommate was sweet, but they were always running around with something to do, so you didn’t see much of them. At this point, Rose didn’t even question why you were always at their dorm-- you probably spent more time there anyway.

Your eyes follow as Rose hurries down the hallway, a nice distraction to the shuffling you hear from inside the now open door. “Hello?” a groggy voice asks. It forces you to look back to the doorway, met with the sight of a very sleepy looking Ellie. Her arms are crossed over her comic teeshirt-clad chest, hair messy behind her ears. You find yourself focusing on the straight line her lips are pulled into, and then the crease in between her furrowed eyebrows. You wonder for a moment if pressing your thumb to it would smooth it out.

“Hi..” you try, blinking at her as both your bodies shift into the dorm.

For a moment, it’s silent. You look around the dimly lit dorm you had seen a hundred times, acting like it was a brand new vision so you didn’t have to look at Ellie. Eventually though, you suck in a breath.

“You totally ignored my te-”

“I didn't see your tex-”

The two sentences lap over each other in unison, messy and rushed. Both voices are cut short when the opposite peaks. You let Ellie finish first, your mouth sealed shut.

“You ignored me last night,” Ellie mumbles, stepping toward her side of the room. The posters that cover the corner near her bed are starting to peel at the sides a little, and you have to fight the urge to ask if she has tape. Now is definitely not the time.

“I was talking to Dina then fell asleep, didn't ignore you,” you correct your friend, footsteps following her own. You still grip the take-out box as you watch Ellie tug a hair tie off her desk, fingers (you oddly couldn’t look away from) pulling the hair up into the usual bun.

“It was like barely even six or something, but whatever, I get it, roommate shit,” Ellie muttered-- as if she didn't know the exact time you stopped answering. As if she hadn’t had a mini breakdown over having to watch a shitty action movie alone.

You find a slight flame of annoyance in your gut, mixing with the guilt already settling there. “Ellie, I was tired I fell asleep. I'm sorry.”

Ellie, stubborn as ever, shrugs. “Yea, it’s whatever.”

“Don’t be like that,” you whine, hand reaching to grab at her wrist. The touch burns, even more when she pulls it away.

“I’m not being like anything.”

You groan, and the childish urge to stomp comes to mind, but you ignore it. “You're being all.. passive-aggressive.”

“I’m not. I said it’s ok, peach. Just stop.”

The nickname is a blatant attempt to make her annoyed tone a little less severe, something to ease the growing tension. You would like to say it didn’t work, but it did. You and Ellie were much better at avoiding the issues than dealing with them. Usually, they were painted over with sweet nicknames or offers to go out and do something. It always worked. You relax slightly and hold out the box for Ellie to see.

“I brought a peace offering. Knew you’d be all grumpy.” you wave the food box a little, pressing it closer to her chest.

Ellie scoffs as she grabs the box and sits on her bed. “I am not grumpy,” she mutters with a very grumpy-looking frown.

You kick a dirty shirt away from her bed as you sit next to her, settling on the blanket and watching her open the box.

“Waffles.. fuck yea!” She grabbed the waffle with her hands, like there wasn't a fork right there with the box, and bit into it. It makes your lip curl a little, but morning Ellie was not someone to be messed with, so you say nothing. Instead, you look around the room, your fingers playing with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. Not sure what to say next, you lick your lips.

“Uh, good peace offering?” Ellie nods in response, swallowing a mouth full of lukewarm waffle before speaking.

“I’ll give it a 5.5/10.”

You make a shocked face, mouth dropping open. “A five? I fought off like three hungover guys for these!” you shove her shoulder, earning a grumble.

“Yea, and you made me watch a movie alone,” Ellie takes another bite of her waffle.

The light feeling that began to build had dropped as quickly as your heart, a lump in your throat. “Yea, my bad.”

Ellie looks at you, jade eyes moving around your face as she swallows. “ ‘m joking, thank you..” her tone is just a tad softer, but you still feel all too itchy now, an urge to get up and go settling over your frame.

You nod, a slightly fake raise of your lips attempting to comfort her as you stand, “I have to get ready for class, but uh, I sort of told Dina we’d go to a party...Would that be a better peace offering?”

“Its a mon-”

“I know, I know, but please, El, I really wanna get close with Dina,” your voice borders on a beg, fingers pinching at your sweatshirt. “Weren’t you the one who encouraged me to?”

Ellie sighs at that, shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah, I guess I was. Shit- fine. But my astronomy class gets out later than your English. I cant drive you.”

It made you want to smile, the way Ellie had already memorized both of your schedules. The earlier discomfort from her slight attitude melted away as something warmer bloomed in your stomach.

Maybe you and Ellie were a bit dramatic. You had been told that many times actually. The way you could get so upset at each other for something simple and yet still fall all over each other the moment something sweet happened. Sometimes you wonder if other friends have these turbulent of feelings for each other, but you ignore it with a nod. “That’s fine. I’ll catch a ride with Dina.”

Ellie turns her head momentarily, shrugging and covering a slightly noticeable pout with an awkward reach for the french toast in the takeout box. “Just text me the address.”

You nod, saluting Ellie as you step into the dorm door. “Will do.”

Ellie rolls her eyes and shoos you off, “Get going.”

“Bye, love you El!” you shout through the door. The loving words came easily, something you had said every so often ever since you two were younger. Ellie didn’t say it as much, but you didn’t mind.

“Bye, peach,” Ellie called, the nickname receiving an eye roll. One she couldn’t see this time.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

4:30 pm came too soon. By then, you were back at your dorm, shoving a stack of books on your already messy desk and flopping back on your bed.

“Who even has a party at 6 pm on a Monday?” you question your roommate, who was currently fixing the mascara she had applied. You words flow over the soft music Dina had turned on, a low hum from her desk.

“College students who have a slight alcohol dependency,” Dina shrugged.

“Fair enough,” you laugh, flipping onto your stomach to watch her walk around the orange-lit room. You hadn’t even begun to get up and get ready, focused instead on watching your roommate’s routine as she walked around.

“It's only gonna be like fifteen people or something,” Dina shrugs as she pulls out a chapstick tube, applying it over her lips.

“Hm..” you nod like that made it any better. Fifteen people you had probably never met before, when you were tired from classes. Yea. You would definitely need a drink.

Dina looked over at you, a grin spreading on her lips as she walked over to you, her fingers gripping your wrist. “Get up. Jesse’s gonna be here soon!”

“I don’t even know what to wear,” you whine, letting your roommate drag you into a sitting position as you meet her eyes. They narrow, and she tugs you again, this time to stand.

“Just wear that! Well, take off the sweatshirt but jeans and a shirt is fine. That’s what I'm wearing.” Dina shrugs as she lets her fingers reach for the bottom of your sweatshirt, the pout never leaving your lips. You didn’t want to remove it, but she urged you to with a friendly tug.

“C'mon, show me your closet. I’ll help you pick a shirt.”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

When you got into the back of Jesse’s car, you completely shut down. Your lips were shut so long you swore they may have stuck together. He was friendly, sure! He cracked jokes you betted Ellie would laugh at, he complimented Dina’s outfit as soon as you got in the car, and grinned when you introduced yourself. But you had taken more than a week to openly speak to your roommate, so her boyfriend wasn’t exactly the easiest to chat to.

Dina didn’t mind, making sure to include you every now and again in whatever conversation the two had going, smiling back at you from the passenger seat as you pressed into the black cushion of Jesse’s car. You found yourself staring out the window, eyes flitting over each street lamp they passed, watching as the sky dimmed just lightly as the minutes seemed to drag by.

Eventually, the car stopped outside an apartment complex, and you peered through the glass at the tall buildings. Jesse pulled the keys from the car as he rushed out and around the other side. It was too late for what he was planning, Dina opening the door right as he reached for it, in turn smacking the metal door right in the stomach and face.

“Ow! Babe!”

Dina covered her mouth with a hand, a muffled snicker only slightly concealed. “Why the fuck did you run into the door?”

Jesse looked at his girlfriend incredulously, rubbing his sore nose, “I was trying to be a gentleman!”

“Since when were you a gentleman?” Dina questioned as she stepped out of the car; you only a moment behind as your feet found the gravel under you.

Jesse calls your name, eyes directed at you. “C’mon. Back me up. You saw me going to open the door right?”

Your nose scrunched, lips parting for the first time in too long, “I kinda did, yea..”

The boy makes a quick motion with his hands to say ‘see?’, Dina shakes her head as she steps back, arm looping yours. The touch makes you stiffen a bit, but Dina’s always warm smile calms you.

“Stop using my roommate in your little lies,” she muttered, though the smile never faltered as you walked up to a ground-floor apartment door. Jesse mumbles a few nonserious complaints as he knocks at the wooden door.

It opens quickly, a ginger guy who seemed about your age answering, cheeks full of freckles raising into a smile. It makes you wonder when Ellie will be here.

“Dee! Jesse!” The boy greets, eyes finding yours, “Oh and Dee’s roommate!”

Dina rolls her eyes as she pulls you inside the cooled apartment, your skin pricking slightly. At least it wasn’t humid like all those frat parties Jade brought you to. You still find yourself wishing you had your sweatshirt, though. “She's got a name, Danny..” your roommate chastises before introducing you two.

“Her friend’s coming later,” Dina explains as she leads you into a living room that looks much too small to house fifteen or so tipsy college students. You guess the attached kitchen will act as more space, with a few plates of snacks and bottles already stacked on the island.

You let the conversation that begins between the three friends about when everyone will be here filter out as you explore the area with your eyes. A couch and a few seats... you could probably hide away on one of those..

Your plan to avoid human contact is quickly ended when Jesse shoves a glass in front of your face, “Drink?”

Your fingers wrap around the glass without a second thought. Alcohol was your friend tonight, the only one until Ellie arrived. Usually, the only two things that could make you talkative, you had to settle for it. “Thanks,” you mumble, groaning as the taste of Titos with too little coke finds your throat.

Ok, you could do this.

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

Ellie couldn’t decide what flannel to wear. Maybe that sounds crazy. It’s a flannel, not a suit— for some small get-together. But she wondered which you would recognize first. Not that she cared about you liking her clothes or anything.

This indecision is what got her in the current situation, sitting outside the address you had given with two flannels in her hand.

Her car was cold, and the wifepleaser she wore without any coverage didn’t exactly stop the goosebumps from finding her skin. A scowl came to her face as she inspected the brown and blue shirts.

“Fuck it,” she groaned, tossing both options into her passenger side as she instead leaned over to the back, grabbing the black sweatshirt she’d worn to classes today. Ellie brought it to her nose, checking it didn’t smell or anything— and shrugged. “Good enough,” she muttered to herself before pulling it on and leaving the car.

It felt odd, to be walking up to a door she didn’t know, especially without you. She may be constantly telling you to put yourself out there, but Ellie was just a big hypocrite. It’s not like she really did anything totally spontaneous either, aside from a few club outings or drunk hookups. She had s lot to say about you putting yourself out here, but here she was, playing nervously with her fingers outside a party.

One quick check of the two of your texts confirmed the metal letters next to the door were correct, so she knocked rather harshly.

Immediately Ellie regretted that, cheeks pink as she pulled the hand away. There's a chorus of voices and shuffling behind the wood, and Ellie finds herself searching for yours.

Instead, a taller man opens the door, black hair messy, cheeks slightly flushed from what Ellie assumes to be drinks.

“Hey, uh—“ his head turns, searching behind him. Ellie thinks she may slam her head on the wall right then, embarrassed by the obvious fact this guy had no fucking clue who Ellie was.

The embarrassment from this didn’t last long; the man stepped to the side slightly as a booming voice interrupted them. This embarrassment cut much deeper into Ellie’s stomach. It painted her cheeks bright red.

“ELLIEEEE!” a voice shouts. She finds you, eyes wide and smile on your face as you open your arms. Oh you are so fucking drunk, aren’t you? You rush toward the auburn-haired girl, wrapping her into a tight hug, your arms pressing around her in a way that had her cursing her family for passing over the wobbly knees over pretty girls gene.

God, she has got to stop calling you pretty.

Ellie stumbles back with the force of your attack, patting your back awkwardly as her chin juts down to your shoulder.

Ellie's eyes meet the black-haired guy again, “She drunk?” she asks as you sway the both of you. The way you shove her chest and scoff gives her an answer. You only got offended at the accusation when you were drunk.

“I am not drunk! Just a little tipsy.”

The guy behind you makes a ’so so’ motion with his hand, drawing a grin out of Ellie.

“Righttt..” Ellie nods, letting you unwrap yourself from her. She watches as your head turns, “Oh! Ellie, this is Jesse, Dina’s boyfriend.. Jesse, this is Ellie,” you make a few awkward looks between the two, huffing.

Jesse smiles at Ellie, nodding his head to the hall. “I’ll meet you two in the living room!”

“Yea, yea sure,” Ellie nods and smiles the best she can manage when you trip over your feet back into her. The annoyance that had layered her being earlier in the morning was steadily decreasing as your eyelashes fluttered, staring at you. How could she stay angry at you for .. ‘missing’.. her texts when you looked so pr—

So nice.

“They’re so cool, El,” you whispered to her, hand finding her arm. You had a tendency of becoming touchy when you got a drink or two in you, and usually that affected Ellie, the one closest to you most times. “Yea?” she asks in response

It wasn’t like Ellie minded it. If anything, she would rather it be here you got all.. grabby with. A memory of you clinging to Jade a few times last year came to the forefront of Ellie’s ever-moving mind, making bile rise in her throat. Instead of thinking about why, she just bumped your shoulder, eyeing the shirt you wore. It wasn’t your usual style, nor a shirt she had seen you wear before. You seemed to notice Ellie’s gaze, clapping a hand on the red fabric.

“It’s Dina’s,” you explain, leading Ellie into a now slightly stuffy living room. The porch door was open now. A few people squished into the small outdoor space, and a few others in the kitchen. Though the main group was all huddled on the couches, chatting and laughing in a way that seemed much too close for Ellie and you to interrupt.

Even in your tipsy state, Ellie felt you shy away slightly, until Dina’s head popped up from a seat and grinned. “Over there,” you hum— again dragging Ellie with you.

Ellie kind of knew Dina. In a ‘I have a class or two with you and we have smiled at each other in the dorm hallway’ sort of way, due only to the shared face they both knew— you. Dina seemed sweet enough, even if you hadn’t yet babbled about that to Ellie.

Dina seemed nice, so Ellie shouldn’t feel a swoop in her stomach when you returned the smile to your roommate, but she did. The feeling bubbles in Ellie’s throat for only a moment before she swallows it down with a huff as you pull her to sit on her couch.

“Hey, Ellie,” Dina greets the girl when the two of you sit, her mouth then coming to wrap around the cup in her hand.

“Hey, Dina,” Ellie nods her head, looking around at the group.

You pipe in before the silence can get too awkward, a grin lacing your pretty lips. “Dina and Jesse were arguing over what movie to watch b’fore you got here,” you explain, head leaning toward Ellie’s shoulder. She moves it before your cheek can find the sweatshirt clad skin, a frown replacing the curl of your lips.

Dina uses this as an opportunity to delve right back into what seemed to be a half hearted argument, head shaking. “He wants to watch Jurassic Park for the like fifteenth fucking time,” she glared at Jesse, who Ellie could guess was her boyfriend.

“Hey,” Ellie butts in, “Jurassic Park is good.”

“Thank you!” Jesse shouts. “Someone with good fucking taste!”

Dina scoffed, “Maybe the first time, not the fifteenth. I said we should watch a horror movie,” the ponytail-wearing girl explained. Ellie is listening to the argument, sure, but she’s mainly focused on how your cheeks raise a bit every time either of the couple says something funny.

“Ellie,” a voice calls the girl out of her little daze, green eyes finding the lips that had asked the question, Dina’s.

“Huh?”

“I asked what your favorite movie is. Jesse thinks you must have great taste since you like Jurassic Park.”

“Shawshank Redemption,” Ellie says without thinking— the answer she always gave when people asked.

You make a noise beside her, shaking your head quickly. “Oh fuck off Ellie,” your eyes find Dina and Jesse, “She’s totally lying. Just saying that ‘cuz Joel likes it, and it’s not lame.”

The couple doesn’t question who Joel is, but the little comment has Ellie biting her lip in embarrassment.

“Her favorite movie is like—the Star Wars prequels,” you continue.

“they are not!” Ellie quickly shouts, shoving you. Dina smiles a little at the act, sharing a glance with Jesse that has Ellie looking a little flushed.

“You’re just saying that because I told you It was one of the movies that made me gay,” Ellie accuses, making you roll your eyes.

“You made me watch that shit every Friday for like two years cause of Padme. Think we’ve watched shawshank like once. And it was with Joel.”

“Oooh, your girl’s calling you a liar,” Jesse whistled, leaning forward from his place perched on the side of the couch.

Your girl. The words wrap around Ellie’s throat in a way that makes it hard to breathe, nails of each syllable digging into the freckles in her neck.

Don't go there.

“She thinks I lie about everything, worst friend ever,” Ellie sighs, the friend part coming out a little too forced.

“I am the best friend ever,” you shake your head, “You just lie a lot.”

“I’ve never lied in my whole life!”

Ellie is met with a harsh pinch on her arm, yelping as she feels the burn. “Ow!”

You stick your tongue out childishly, leaning into Dina to protect yourself when Ellie’s hand reaches out to punch you.

The fight is interrupted when a new person joins the group, ginger and tall. “We’re playing spin the bottle,” he points to the group forming on the carpet, Ellie’s nose tilting up a bit. Spin the bottle, really?

“Lameee,” Dina calls, arms wrapping around you as you gasp.

“Wait, no, that sounds fun! We should play!” you say, shocking both Ellie and Dina.

“We need to get vodka in you more often,” Dina claps your shoulder and raises into a more proper position. Ellie has to bite back an annoyed scoff. You definitely didn't need to be like this more often.

Sure, Ellie wanted you to find more comfort in being outgoing, but she didn’t want you to find that in the bottom of a cup of vodka and coke.

“El, play with us?” you question, eyeing the freckled face.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” She agrees, though it’s mostly so she can sit next to you and maybe mind-control the bottle to steer clear of your direction.

All three of you, followed by Jesse and then the ginger, stand and make your way to the smaller group on the ground. The ginger introduces them all, But Ellie isn't paying much mind. Instead, she focuses on getting you to sit without stumbling.

“How much vodka did you have, peach?” she mumbles against your ear so no one else can hear.

“Uh, like two mixed drinks? I'm fine, just overtired.” You push off her accusations of being drunk again, grinning lightly at her as if it would prove you were sober somehow.

Ellie doesn't respond, eyeing Dina as she takes the spot next to you on the other side, and then Jesse next to her. She was surprised the couple was playing, but the way Dina made an ‘Im watching you’ motion to Jesse told her enough they weren't taking the game too seriously.

It made her a bit jealous, how comfortable and.. not possessive a couple like that could be with each other. Yet here she was, a sick stomach just from the thought of a girl that was only her friend kissing someone. She needed to get a fucking grip.

“Ok, who first?” a brunette girl across from Ellie asks, eyeing the empty beer bottle in the middle. The ginger volunteered, and Ellie clocked out again.

She had no interest in watching a bunch of straight people kiss each other drunkenly, instead eyeing the posters and paintings on the living room walls. She took a few photos of space she recognized, and some movie posters that looked like they were from the 80’s. Whoever lived here seemed to have good taste. Ellie eyed the group curiously, wondering who it may be.

About five minutes later, Ellie returned to earth when someone said your name. “You wanna go next?” The ginger man asked, to which you nodded— thought a little less enthusiastically now. Maybe the vodka had begun to sweat its way out of you, or maybe watching a bunch of people kiss before now had made you a little less excited. Ellie couldn't be sure which.

Ellie watches as your fingers wrap around the bottle, shaking enough that only she would really notice. The girl thinks she may actually pass out from how hard she holds her breath.

When it begins to slow down, it’s almost right back to yourself, and Ellie starts to think she actually can mind control things. But instead, almost worse than it landing on anyone else, it lands right on her.

Everyone around you two whoops, and she can hear Dina’s voice carrying over everyone else’s.

It’s probably a little funny to look at the two reactions. Your face pulled into a shit-eating grin, puckering your lips and pressing your hands to the ground so you could lean closer. And then Ellie’s, face dropped like she had seen a ghost of a loser lesbian’s past.

Honestly, Ellie did—the ghost of a particular memory from her fifteenth year.

You lean in, nose brushing Ellie’s. Her ears go deaf, ringing as your breath puffs against her shaking lips. Right as they begin to touch, a fire rips between the small space of air there. A fire that has Ellie almost yelping out loud, pulling right back before she can taste the vanilla bean of your chapstick flavor.

“Hey!” you cry out, obviously not taking this as seriously as Ellie. No, you seemed more annoyed that she ruined the game. But she was pressing her fingers into the floor, burning from the way it hurt the flesh there to stop the hammering in her chest.

This was a totally normal reaction, Ellie decided, definitely.

“You ruined the game!” you cry, shoving Ellie’s shoulder enough to have her blinking quickly.

Dina shoves a shot glass in front of Ellie’s face before she can settle the heartbeat in her ears.

“You pussy out, you drink,” the brunette singsongs.

“I’m driving,” Ellie turns her head, standing up. Your eyes follow her, burning into the side of her cheek as she wipes sweaty palms on her jeans.

The mood dampens, but only for you and Ellie. The rest of the group goes back to playing. Ellie knows by the gasp that wafts through her pounding eardrums as she begins to walk away.

Soon, the stomping footsteps of your tipsy self follow behind. “El,” you whisper yell, grasping her arm. This time, Ellie lets you.

“Did I make you uncomfortable?” You ask, eyes searching the red-tinted freckles on her face. “I didn’t mean to. It was just a game. I'm just trying to impre—”

“It’s fine,” Ellie assures you, faking the best smile she can. It should be honest; she has no reason to be upset right now. But she is. Her chest aches with the urge to go back in time and just let you do it.

“I'm just really tired, not in the partying mood.”

“Then let's go home,” you say quickly, probably searching to ease the discomfort Ellie knows she’s radiating. “I’ll stay at your dorm tonight, ok?”

God, Ellie’s such a fucking goner.

“Yea, ok. You’re definitely drunk anyway.”

“I am not!” you pout, releasing Ellie from your bruising grip. “Let me go tell Dina, I’ll be back.”

Ellie watches as you trip a bit over your feet, a habit you really need to shake, and sighs.

The silent show is not long-lasting, the brunette from the circle earlier arriving at Ellie’s side. She had kind eyes, and a bottle of water in her hand.

“Hey, it’s Ellie right?” she asks. Ellie finds herself watching the blue in her eyes.

“Yea,” Ellie nodded.

“You taking her home?” the girl asks again, in reference to you. She hands the water bottle to Ellie. “Give her this, don’t think she’s had any.”

Ellie grips the water bottle, squeezing it a bit. “Uh, thanks.”

“No problem,” she grins, one almost like yours. “My roommate’s always throwing these things and then never giving people water,” the blue eyes roll.

Ellie perked up at that, “You live here?” She thinks again of the space decorations in the living room.

“Yeah!” the brunette smiles again, “Me and Danny. I'm Luna,” she explains.

“Oh shit, wait,” Ellie’s eyebrows furrow together, “Luna..” something clicks in the green-eyed girl’s mind. “We have that physics class together, don’t we?

Luna seemed a little flushed, “Oh.. y-yea-”

The rest of her sentence falls on deaf ears when you trample into the hallway again, all senses only honing in on you, like usual. You seem to pause for a moment, eyeing the two others in the hallway.

But soon, you’re moving right by Luna, arm wrapping around Ellie’s. “Told Dina, all good to go,” you wipe a hand over your face with a little dramatized yawn.

“Thank Luna,” Ellie says again before she grabs you right back, leading you out the front door.

“You have got to stop drinking vodka. You know how you get,” Ellie mutters against you when the cool night air hits her already raised skin.

“I wanted to have fun!”

“Yea, good luck with fun tomorrow at your lecture.”

“Skippingggg it,” you mumble as Ellie ushers you into the passenger seat, the door squeaking like usual. Your ass lifts to grab the two shirts under it. “Why are there flannels in here?”

“Uh—” Ellie flushes, “I dunno.” She shuts your door before getting into her own side.

“Mm..” you sigh, already pressing your cheek to the cold glass of her window. “Who was that girl you were talking to?” you ask as the purr of the engine starts. Ellie throws the water bottle in your lap.

“A classmate, drink that.”

You look at Ellie for a moment, and Ellie stares right back. “.. Ok.”

﹒ ♡₊˚﹕﹒₊﹕﹒₊˚

“Shhh,” Ellie mutters, ushering you through the dark dorm hallway. “Can I wear your bear shirt? The super oversized one?” you babble, knocking yourself into Ellie’s door with a yelp.

“You’re such a fucking dumbass,” Ellie snickers, making quick work of unlocking the door while you nurse the bump on your head.

“Shhhh!” you mock her, flipping the light switch of her dorm on. Your finger presses to your lip in a quiet motion, kicking your shoes off. Rose wasn't here, as usual.

Ellie’s throwing the shirt with a cartoon bear at you before you lift yourself back up, and you happily tug Dina’s shirt off. Ellie is flipping away before the fire in her chest can return, throwing a pair of sweatpants behind her head so she doesn’t have to look.

“Ow!” you cry, probably from a large jumble of grey fabric hitting you.

Ellie pulls off her sweatshirt and changes her jeans for some shorts, counting to sixty before she turns around. Just to be safe.

You were already lying in her bed, pressing on the right side near the wall, eyes fluttering shut.

Ellie watches you for a moment, watches how your fingers grip at one of the blankets on her bed, thumb rubbing over it. She noticed the self-soothing motion of that years ago, how you always rubbed something between your fingers. The sleeve of your shirt, a pillow corner, a blanket. Sometimes, Ellie wishes it was her arm you did it to instead.

Don't go there.

The light flicks off, drowning the room in only the hue that came from the little pink nightlight on her roommate’s side of the dorm. Ellie is sleepily making her way to the bed, eyes catching on your now sleeping figure.

Alcohol also made you sleep really fucking easy. Ellie learned that prom night when you fell asleep in the car to the afterparty.

She watches how your lips part slightly as you breathe, and swears out loud. “Fuck.”

Ellie is so fucked. She wanted to snap her fingers and get a do-over. Wanted to be back in that loud house, back to smelling the vodka on your breath as you leaned in. She wanted to try again.

But she can’t, and she shouldn’t. So she climbs into bed next to you, pulls the blanket from between your thumb, and lets you shift, turning in bed to face the wall. She lays the blanket over you and sucks in a shaky breath.

She watches your back and presses her eyes closed to try and remove the overwhelming vision of you that invades every single one of her waking moments. And the ones after that.

Ellie falls asleep watching your back, and wonders if that’s all she will ever get.

series taglist: @darlingmisa @saintels @totheblood @elliewill @rxllingstones @elliesflower @hrtsellie @ellieluhme @darlingmisa @liabadoobee @muthafuckingstargirl @ribbonsouls @cretaceouss @bambiesfics @sl4t22 @callmekittenandyourmajesty @waywardpiratebird @starfaegirl @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss @haiixo @arcaneangstenjoyer @catkirkfan @lvrellie @gimalo135 @oatmilkchaii @corpsebridenightamare @oggystine93 @eddies-bat-tattoos @belliesgf @simiinthemirror @els-heart @iloverue @zourqz @ellitelesbo @bae-o-clock @elliesgff @gumdropkoo @sawaagyapong @gold-dustwomxn @jajsnjz @sleepyangelkami

#the perfect pair ❀.#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams angst #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams tlou 2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fanfic

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fir3ylolol · 6 months

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i'll have what she's having

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: Johnny has insisted that you match with him at his Halloween party, which you obliged. but he's acting sort of weird? wonder what's up with him...

tw: mentions of drinking

a/n: i was inspired by @sillygooselulu to write a little fluff, and why not make it Halloween-themed! first real attempt at fluff which was kinda fun :) but don't worry, the 100-follower special should be out soon!

word count: 1.21 k

Ao3

You put on the last part of your Halloween costume and look in the mirror. Smoothing your pants, you turn and admire how you look. A pair of brown shoes, high-waisted jeans, a red turtleneck, and a brown blazer. Of course, ever the film nerd, Johnny wanted to go as Harry and Sally. You walk to your bathroom to finish your hair and face, sitting down with a huff. You had no idea where Johnny was, leaving you to get ready by yourself. You curl your hair into loose, tease out 80’s curls, and apply a wine-colored gloss to your lips.

You notice your phone buzzing on the bathroom counter and pick it up quickly. Johnny’s cheesy grin flashes across your screen and you pick up quickly. “Hey, you picked up! Where are you? You on your way yet?” He’s almost yelling in your ear, and you back the phone away from your ear. “I just finished, I’ll be there soon. You feeling good?” you manage to say without a laugh, his volume a clear indication that he’s already started to party. “I feel great! Hurry up and get over here!”

“Fine, fine, I’ll leave now then.” You grab your large leathery bag, which Johnny insisted on for “accuracy”. “Woohoo! I’ll see you soon!” He cheers, and abruptly hangs up. Sighing lightly, you leave to his place, LA traffic is not any better than usual. It takes about 30 minutes to get there, and when you do, you notice how many cars are in the driveway. There are at least 50, blocking areas and creating a maze. But, ever the gentleman, Johnny runs out, waving his garage controls above his head. He slightly runs into the car and sticks his head through the window. “You’re here! Go ahead, park in the garage. I’ll see you inside, ok? Bye!” He leaves before you can get a word out, leaving you in a stunned state.

You shake out of it, and pull into his garage quickly, walking into the house through that door. It is loud inside, with bass vibrating the floor and shot glasses tipped over on the counter. You shuffle through the crowd in front of you, searching for Johnny. And there he is, sitting on the couch and laughing loudly with more people than you think the furniture can handle. But he sees you and bolts up. In a large, white cable-knit sweater and jeans, he wraps you up in a hug. “Yay! My other half is here, guys!” He turns you towards the crowd, which loudly cheers for him.

He lets go of you and holds one of your hands, smiling widely. “I missed you,” he giggles out. “How much have you had to drink?” You touch a hand to his red cheeks, which he hisses at. “Your hands are too cold. But I’ve only had a little.” You start to drag him towards a balcony, and he follows behind you with shuffling steps. “Come on, you need fresh air,” you open the glass door and get him outside, shutting the door behind him.

“Ugh, fine,” he leans against the waist-height wall and looks out over Malibu. You stand beside him, wrapping an arm around him in a light hug. He turns to look at you, smiling just as wide as before, with slightly less red cheeks. “You know, you’re always so nice. I like having you around,” he says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. “I like being around man, it’s fun.” You laugh lightly as your face is shoved into his chest, pushing away a little.

Johnny pauses, face slightly dropping as he looks out again. “Hey, can I tell you something? Like, can you promise you won’t leave after I say it?” He sounds slightly serious, but drops it quickly, “Since people will keep asking why I didn’t dress up.” Taken slightly aback by his words, you try to join him in lightening the mood. “Unless you killed someone, I’m staying right here.” He pauses a little too long, and you panic slightly. “Y-you didn’t kill anyone, right??” He turns to you and laughs hard, leaning forward over the wall. “No! Why would I do that? God, you’re funny.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, you weren’t ready to keep a secret like that.

But he grows serious again, letting out what sounds like a nervous breath. “Well, we’ve been friends for a while, and I really like hanging out with you. You’ve stuck by me, even when my movies weren’t that successful.” He’s trying to lighten the mood again, but it’s not working. He coughs slightly, then continues. “Hold on, I memorized my lines.” Confused, you cock an eyebrow at him, but you’re used to his strange antics. He takes a deep breath and starts talking again. “I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes.” Your face slightly drops, and you recognize what he’s saying. It’s the speech at the end of ‘When Harry Met Sally.’ He continues, “And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's Halloween.”

He grabs both your hands, his grasp tight as he finishes, “I wanted you here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” You’re in shock again, taking a long time to process all of this. But he stands there, uncharacteristically nervous. God, how much did he have to drink tonight? He tends to be a little less careful when he’s stressed, and if his nerves now are indicative, he is close to wasted. You snap out of it, and look into his eyes, finally smiling. “Johnny, you really had to quote a movie to confess?” He lets out a breath, shoulders falling forward. “Don’t tease! You’re just so cool, and attractive, and I didn’t want to lose you as a friend. So I figured I could maybe pass this off as part of my character, and not something I was saying.”

“Wait, is this why you really wanted us to dress up as Harry and Sally?” He wraps his arms around you tight, snuggling into your neck. “Maybe…was it bad?” You hug him back, hands tracing along his back. “Nah, it was cute. Nerdy, but cute.” Huffing, he pulls away, “You could’ve left it at cute.” But he pauses again, searching your face quickly. “So…do you wanna…be with me?” You smile and cup his face in one hand, bringing him in for a kiss. He melts into you, arms wrapping around your waist as yours wrap around his neck. You feel him smile, holding you tight against him. He finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

#johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mortal kombat #mk x reader #x reader #fluff #sfw

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joshslater · 2 months

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Stained

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They say when you are in an accident everything moves in slow motion. That wasn't at all how it felt for me. I was driving down a slight slope toward an intersection out in bumfuckyall, where a truck was waiting at a red light. Why they would put a traffic light out here with nothing but crop fields around is beyond me. Getting some extra revenue from people running the lights perhaps. Not busy enough to warrant the installation though. Maybe to stop traffic when harvesters or whatever pass by, but they would move slowly and be pretty darn visible in this terrain.

The belt tensioner yanked me into the seat at the same time as I heard the crash and I had just time to turn my head back from the fields to see the now milky front window, shattered into thousands of small glass cubes suspended by the plastic film on the back of it, give way to the mass that had been thrown off the flatbed and flung into my windshield. Through the widening gap at the top of the windshield liquid was dumped into the car, all over me, and everything turned into black silence with a strong smell of chemicals.

It all went faster than I could register, and I just sat there still with burning eyes, trying to comprehend what had just happened. I somehow had run into the truck. I heard hurried steps outside and someone first trying to open the door then rapping the side window and shouting "Are you hurt, buddy?"

Was I? My shoulder hurt from the seat belt, and I couldn't see anything, but otherwise I wouldn't feel anything damaged. I fumbled a bit to find how to open the door and once successful responded "I'm OK I think. I can't see though."

"Thank Lord. It's wood stain. Had some buckets in the back. Some paint too. It'll make you dizzy and sick, but I wouldn't worry about going blind. Let me help you out and lay you down. I have plenty of water to rinse you."

Despite squeezing my eyes as shut as I could, reasoning that opening them would probably let more paint in than out, I had no problems finding and removing the seat belt, and stepping out of the car. As soon as I was out of the car he grabbed my arm and led me to a spot in front of both vehicles. My mouth tasted of chemicals and I spat on the ground several times.

"Just lie down here, buddy. Are you sure you aren't hurt?" "A bit sore, but nothing really hurts." "That's a relief. The car is probably a write-off with all the damage outside and in. This is all my fault." Without opening my eyes I let myself be guided to the ground while he talked. I could hear the steps of another person getting closer from beyond my car. "It is?" "Casy, get the big jug!" he told the other person, who answered a curt "Yep" in a young man's voice. "I must have put in reverse while waiting for the light and then... reverse into you," he said, talking to me again. "It's a rental. I'm sure they are used to handling things like this." "Just stay still there buddy, and I'll start pouring."

He began pouring water on my face, occasionally wiping with a rag of some sort. "Open your mouth and take some water. Then swig it around and spit it out." We did that a few times. A few more rinses and I dared to open my eyes. He looked like he sounded like. Trucker cap, beard, grey and blue flannel shirt, blue jeans, and boots. Hovering behind him was a boy in his late teens or early twenties, dressed very similarly in camo cap, blue JROTC hoodie, jeans, and boots. For my part I was wood-stain brown and garden-fence white.

"I'm Cliff, this is Casy," Cliff said and gave me his hand to help me up. As I stood up and looked past his pick up I could see my car. It looked worse than I would have expected. While the collision didn't feel that bad, the crumple zones certainly felt it. A few buckets of paint had landed next to it, but clearly the inside was ruined by the ones that had passed through the glass. I had no hope that my travel bag with what little extra clothes I had brought with me had survived either, as I think I had tossed it on the passenger seat.

"I'm Bradly" "Casy, give Bradly your pop. He can't taste nothing but paint." Casy did a nod and another dull "yep", but jumped into the truck with ease and was quickly out again with a can of Monster. Ignoring that it was opened and with a third gone, I took an eager sip, swirled it in my mouth, and swallowed. When I had emptied the can the taste of oil and paint was almost gone.

"I reckon we need to hose you down before we can do anything else. Casy can stay here while we bring you to the house to clean you up. Then we can figure out how to take care of the car. How's that sound, buddy?"

"Sounds reasonable to me." "I'm sorry, but do you mind getting on the flatbed." He motioned all over my paint-drenched body. "No. Is it far?" "It's a quick drive."

When you are lying on your back on a tarp next to reclaimed wood, slowly drying into the color of an antique table, seeing nothing but the afternoon sky, nothing is a quick drive. I didn't dare move, not so much because I was lying unprotected in the back of a truck that was driving far too fast for my comfort, but because I was soaked in oil and paint and water, and didn't want to mess anything else up. The wind running over my body was chilling, despite the balmy weather. My shoulder and chest hurt from where the belt tightener pulled me back into the seat. Despite the wind there was a strong smell of paint. I felt lightheaded. My mind began to wander. I should probably call the motel that I would be late, or not arriving at all. I was thinking about how I decided to not have a coffee at the diner to get back on the road quicker. I should have bought one. The apple pie slices looked delicious. Eventually however I would see treetops creeping into view and soon after we came to a stop on gravel.

"Where is he?" a woman asked nearby. "Back there," Cliff answered and opened the tailgate. He extended a hand to help me down. "Hey buddy, this is Sarah!" "Hi," Sarah said smiling. "Bradly"

Instead of walking towards the house she motioned toward one of the barns. "Hose is over there. Then you can take a proper shower after." On Sarah's urging I took off everything but my briefs. She suggested I take them off as well, but didn't press the issue. The water was pretty high-pressure and ice cold. Cold water worked better than hot water Sarah claimed, not that hot water was an option outside the house.

Once I was hosed enough that the water didn't run brown anymore, and I felt I was near risking hypothermia, I wrapped myself in an old discolored beach blanket Sarah handed me and we walked back to the house. I shivered and my lightheadedness had turned into a dull, thumping headache. Cliff and the truck were gone. Sarah grabbed one of the white plastic chairs, placed it near the front door, and told me to sit down. "The white paint doesn't stick too bad to the skin, but we're never going to be able to clean this out," she said and touched my hair. I hadn't felt a feeling like that since I used way too much hair gel for Halloween many years ago. It was like my hair and the paint had formed a helmet. She quickly returned from the house with a trimmer on an extension cord. "Sides are not too bad. I can make a flat top," she said and buzzed away, clearly used to taking care of Cliff and Casy. I cringed when I heard it, and was about to stop her, but changed my mind. Better to let her keep as much hair as possible and decide on the real emergency haircut later.

She then led me through the house and what must have been Casy's room, with a home gym and a gaming setup, to his bathroom. Everything was big and roomy, but I guess it is inexpensive to build large when you have lots of land, time, and resources. "Take as much time as you need and use any of the soaps you want. I'll put some clothes on the bed for you. Just throw your briefs in the bathroom bin," Sarah said and left.

I looked in the bathroom mirror, the first time I saw myself after the accident. I looked terrible. The haircut was ugly, of course, but the uneven stain stains all over my body made me look tan and dirty. Like I had spent all day riding a dirt bike in mud, not the last ten minutes being blasted by ice water. I looked as beaten and spent as I felt.

By "any of the soaps" she meant the Axe Total Fresh 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash that there were four opened bottles of in various places in the bathroom. Somehow Casy managed to both have a messy bathroom without having much in it. The water felt like a blessing on my cold, bruised body. I just stood there for a while, letting the warm water rinse me. Then I lathered myself completely and rinsed off three times in a row. Neither the foam nor the water looked discolored, and when I dried myself with the one towel in the room it didn't become stained. The image in the mirror however looked disappointingly identical to before. The same stained me, but now with a more acute headache. Everything smelled like Axe Total Fresh, and it did my head no favors.

I peeked into Casy's room. No one was there and the door to the rest of the house was shut, so I entered and looked at the clothes laid out for me on the bed. Only one of each, so no options. First black compression boxers with a wide Nike band. Then a pair of green-brown socks that looked like what the army issues. Some lightly distressed blue jeans with a black leather belt. A military green Under Armour T-shirt in a glossy material with "patriotic" print with stars and almost-US flags on it. A hunting camo baseball cap. Finally a pair of well-worn leather boots. I put it all on, including the hat to cover the ugly hair and the boots because I wasn't sure what the indoor etiquette here was. Everything fit surprisingly well, though I guess she could have looked at the size of my ruined clothes.

I opened the door and stepped out of the room, trying to find Sarah, or anyone really. How long had I been in the shower? Probably an hour, if not longer. "Hello?" "We're over here," I heard Sarah shout from across the house. I walked in the direction of her voice and was soon joined by Cliff who emerged from another room. "How are you feeling, buddy?" he asked in a concerned fatherly manner. "I think I'm about to have an episode of migraine." "That something you've had before." "Never."

"Take your seats. You over here Brad," Sarah said as we turned the corner into a large kitchen with a table laid for four. "Bud... eh, Bradly." I tried to correct her, but she had turned to the big cast iron pot on the stove. Casy already sat by the table with a phone in his hand, but his eyes were firmly on me. His face didn't reveal any expressions.

Sarah placed the heavy pot on the table and with a big ladle filled my plate with a dark stew. "Here you go, Bud," she said. As the smell of beef stock, fresh herbs, carrots, onions, and slow cooked, rich meat reached my nose I immediately recognized the telltales. Weakening of the jaw. The increase in saliva. I almost threw myself out of the chair, rushed over to the sink, and managed just in time to throw up into the sink. I realized I was sweating. Then another heave of vomit. "Oh, poor buddy," Sarah said and patted my back. "Here, drink this," she said and filled a glass of water from a pitcher. My body heaved a third time, but nothing came out. "Thanks," I replied and took the glass with some apprehension, waiting to see if my body would do something else. Once it appeared safe I took the glass and started to empty it.

"Casy, make one of them shakes for him. He needs to get something in his belly." Almost reluctantly, like I had ruined his meal, Casy got up and moved towards a cupboard. "I just need to rest I think," I said, my head now mercilessly pounding in pain. "Out of the question. You need something to fortify you."

Casy quickly scooped powder from a large plastic container into a workout shaker bottle thing, poured in some water, gave it a quick shake, and handed it to me. I had barely put it to my mouth when Cliff said "He can barely stand. Take him to your room for a nap." "Come then," Casy said and led the way out of the kitchen, with me following sipping the chalky mixture. "You know the way though," he said once out of earshot from the kitchen. Back inside his room he motioned at the bed and said "This is a bed," deadpan to me. I wanted to say it wasn't my fault his day was ruined. In fact, mine had gone way worse than his, but my head hurt too much for me to care. "Thanks." I put my back on the bed and was out in seconds.

The hard plastic of the ear protectors was what made me wake up properly, and it took a moment to realize what it was and get them off. Almost ripped the cap off with them. These were the radio/bluetooth kind that allowed you to listen to music while you worked. Bright, orange colored cups with the rest of it black. I got up from the bed and left them on the sheets. Apparently I was already fully dressed, so I headed to the kitchen. Sarah was there preparing things.

"Mornin' Ma'am." "Good morning, Buddy." I took my seat. Sarah filled a bowl with porridge, drizzled honey over it, set it on the table in front of me together with a spoon. "Better hurry. Cliff is waiting for you." "Yes, Ma'am."

It wasn't until I began eating I realized how hungry I was, so it wasn't a problem to be quick. Not having seconds though felt rough. Just outside the house was Cliff, doing something with a quad to which he had hooked a trailer full of wooden poles. "Mornin', Sir" "Morning Buddy! Get up in the trailer and make sure nothing shakes out while we drive down the fields. "Yes, Sir."

Once we came to a stop after a bumpy ride, Cliff showed me how to operate the earth drill to make holes, then how to insert a pole, and with the sledge hammer drive it down so it fit securely. He then let me do that while he was working on putting up wires for the electric fence. After we had been at it for quite a while Sarah called on the walkie-talkie and said sheriff Miller wanted to talk to us. We unhooked the trailer and drove up to the farm on the quad, me sitting behind Cliff, straddling him.

Outside the main house Sarah and the sheriff waited for us. It was mostly a boring conversation between Cliff and the sheriff that I tuned out of, but then the sheriff turned to me and asked "And who is this?" "It's Buddy, farmhand for the summer," Cliff answered and took a slight step to the side to give room for the sheriff. The sheriff looked me over for a second. "You were here yesterday?" "Yes, Sir." "Did you see anyone come by yesterday afternoon or evening?" "No, Sir." "Anything else out of the ordinary happened yesterday?" "Yes, Sir. I threw up, Sir. Hasn't happened in years, Sir." "Hahaha." He turned to Cliff again. "If anything comes up let me know. It's not the first traveler that's gotten lost around here, but they usually turn up sooner or later." "They have a habit of doing that, causing extra work for the local sheriff while they are wandering about," Cliff answered, smiling back. The sheriff shook his head and opened his car door. "You ain't wrong."

Once the car was well on its way up the dirt road Sarah motioned at cooler that was on the ground. "I was about to come down with lunch to you boys, but perhaps you want to eat it up here." "Yeah, let's take a breather. This was a close call." Cliff opened a small tool bag that was hanging on the quad and pulled out another pair of orange ear protectors, if not the same as earlier. He turned the knob on them and put them on my head. Noise was sloshing around in my ears like waves breaking on a beach. Voices were whispering all around me. It was impossible to focus on a single voice and hear its message. Just a school of slippery tadpoles swimming around and around. Impossible to grab. Somewhere far in the distance I could hear Cliff talking.

"Let's go even harder with the programming. We don't need him cognisant for the rest of the day."

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ultrashieldx · 2 months

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guardianfilm01 · 6 months

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#car window tinting film in virginia #glass film near me #vehicle wrapping films buy online

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thoughtsfromlayla · 26 days

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Dreamweaver's Heart

Summary: The Dream Lord takes fascination to a new lucid dreamer in his realm, his Dreamweaver. The waking world is less than kind and he will travel dimensions to make sure you are safe.

Notes: ~8.6k, this was a request sent in by Anon based on this post! Otherwise, I'm sorry for having this fic take such a dark turn? It was supposed to be sweet but then in my search for more Tom Sturridge films, I came across Like Minds and it fucked with me. So now it fucks with my writing until further notice.

Warnings: Don't ever get attached to the characters I make for the plot, graphic descriptions of gore, death, murder, and drowning, betrayal of a friend, nonconsensual kissing (not from Dream), graphic serial killer activities, run in with a serial killer. Dream's a dream tho, a knight in black armor <3 Happy ending :D

I'm not going to say it's 18+, because it's not NSFW, but some of these themes can be disturbing. Please read the tags carefully.

Masterlist

“One, two, three, four, five, okay,” You count your right-hand fingers to yourself. Then cast your eyes on the watch you always carried on your wrist.

“8:13,” You take another look at your surroundings and take in the fresh air and kind sun. “AM,” you concluded.

You look back to your fingers and count again. “One, two, three, four, five,” You listed off in your head. Then one more time look at your watch. This time it read 5:15 PM, but the sun hadn’t moved. A grin crawls up to your face as you realize that you were dreaming. Lucid dreaming to be more specific.

When you first heard about lucid dreaming in some off-handed news article you rolled your eyes and went on with your morning. There wasn’t much time in your life to worry about those things, not when another project was due, you had another meeting to attend, or another email to look at. But then life got unbearably hard to live with, stress kept piling up, and your vacation hours kept being declined.

Your dreams turned from weird but forgettable dreams to nightmares of being chased, drowned, or murdered, only for you to both feel and witness again and again. When you wake up in a sweat at the ungodly midnight hours, you open your phone to find the news article again. It took you well over a month to get the hang of lucid dreaming but it was all worth the cognitive effort. Each time you go to sleep you count your fingers, then your clock, then your fingers, and then your clock again. There are always telltale signs that you were dreaming, dreams tend to never make sense so you look for those things.

You intake another fresh breath of air and smile, head tilted towards the sun. The city air was polluted with car fumes and sewage smells, and while you loved the city, you do miss the easier days back in the countryside. You imagine the lush meadows, old trees, and the house that your grandfather hand-built for him and his wife. Before you the scenery changes and you’re sitting on a hand-carved rocking chair in a thin shirt and shorts.

“This is the life,” You groan out to yourself as you begin the rock back and forth, thighs and arms trembling from a stretch. You stay like that for god knows how long, the waking world not a priority of your thoughts as you had the next day off.

You only get up when sweat begins to collect along your hairline and the sunhat you are wearing begins to become itchy. A farm dog comes up to you and pants at your side urging you to go inside the house, maybe for a cup of lemonade, which sounded delicious the more you thought about it.

When you look into the house from the windowed front door, a black figure briefly catches your eyes. It walks within the kitchen, running a finger across the worn wooden table and tracing lines of chipped paint over the tops of chairs. Confusion eclipses your face as his figure distorts on the thick glass and you open the door quickly.

Much to your surprise, there was no such figure when the door opened. Your heart beats inside your chest and you look down at your fingers again. One, two, three, four, five… six. Six fingers, which is odd. You exhale slowly, it’s just a dream you say to yourself and carry on.

While sitting at the kitchen table you pinch your index and thumb together then bring both hands until they meet the other’s fingers. You pull them apart and a delicate golden string connects the fingers together. With a calming inhale of breath you move your fingers purposefully, drawing a picture of lemonade with a glass cup. If only it were this easy in the waking world.

Lemonade appears on the kitchen table in a glass pitcher and you pour yourself a cup, chugging down the citrusy-sweet drink with a smile. You sit for a while, not particularly thinking of anything, your job had you doing enough of that. The kitchen window was open and you could feel the summer wind and hear the leaves rustling and mourning doves cooing. It was a scene straight out of your childhood, and if you concentrated enough you could hear the lawn mower going in the distance, the smell of freshly cut grass invading the house.

A bark interrupts your serenity and you look over to the farm dog. He’s patiently sitting by his food bowl with a wagging tail. A small box of dog food appears on a nearby shelf and you go to him with a smile.

“Are you hungry, boy?” You ask and reach for the kibble. He barks back in return and watches you intently as you pour a small serving. You then thought to yourself that, well, this is a dream and can dogs get diabetes in dreams? Probably not, so you dump the rest of the kibble into his bowl. It piled higher and higher and you can see a satisfied glint in the dog’s eyes as it begins to chow down on its food.

You wipe your hands off on your shorts and toss the empty box into some unknown void in the hallway and go back to the kitchen. This time, however, two glasses were accompanying the pitcher. One, the glass you just drank out of, and the other, a half-drunk glass of lemonade. The condensation of the cool drink was still on the glass and you could see a clear handprint of where someone had grabbed it.

You look back at the dog and notice that he is missing and panic sets in again. You look outside the window and the sun disappears, clouds rolling in with a sheet of rain. The ground around you starts to become wet despite the intact roof and it floods over your feet. The water fills up the space quickly.

You try to calm your breathing and will the water to go away, for the sun to come back, anything to have your hours of peace before you have to wake up. But, nothing worked and the water came over your hips, and you’re hyperventilating now. The rain comes in through the windows in large gushes of water and you find yourself stuck in place, unable to move.

“Wake up, wake up!” You chant to yourself, tears beading along your lower lash line. You pinch at yourself and are exasperated when you still don’t wake. The water felt too real, it was cold and piercing and you could feel the twigs and leaves of debris that brushed against your legs now and then. “This isn’t funny, wake up!” You cry to yourself again as the water rises higher.

Behind you, in the shadows, the Dream Lord watches with intent. He always had a fascination with lucid dreamers, after all, they were able to minorly manipulate dreams to their whim. Something that the Dream King wouldn’t admit hurt his ego a little bit… just a smudge. But he had been watching your dreams lately and found it fascinating that you never dreamed of anything grand. No mystical adventure, no aspirations, and certainly no dreams of a more… sexual nature. Which, if he was allowed to comment, may be the reason why you were so stressed in the waking world and needed to find peace in his instead.

“This dream is over,” He commands and waves his hand over the scene.

You wake with a start, the sweat you produced while sleeping made your shirt stick to you uncomfortably and reminded you of your dream. You’re quick to get rid of it and throw it into your laundry hamper, now topless and rushing to the bathroom for a cold shower to calm you down. When you were done, your weekend alarm still hadn’t gone off and you were tempted to go back to sleep again.

Eventually, you decided against it, unless you wanted to repeat what just happened. Purposeful, dreamless sleep hasn’t found you in a long time and you doubt it would come back just on a whim. You watch the sunrise in your apartment, sighing as sleep tugs at your body still. The cup of hot coffee in your hands felt more like decoration than anything useful as it didn’t give you the energy you craved.

Thankfully you had nothing to do on your day off and you pat your past self on the back for going grocery shopping last night instead of making you do it today. You spend the rest of the day in bed, reading books on your Kindle and taking breaks by mindlessly scrolling through different forms of social media. Sleep tugs on your eyes but no matter how much you try to sleep, even a nap escapes you.

The day goes by at a molasses-like pace, you don’t even remember eating. But once the sun has set and the stars made their debut, you happily resign as sleep overcomes you. The Kindle falls somewhere off your bed as you lose consciousness. When you come to your dreams, you’re greeted by a whale… in a tutu.

Your laughter is hard to contain at the sight as you watched it dance on its fins to Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, part of your favorite ballet to watch when you were younger. It splashes some water on you and you use your hands to cover your face. It’s then that you remember to count your fingers.

“One, two, three, four, five,” All five fingers. What time was it? You repeat the ritual that has been so ingrained in your head and when you notice that you only have four fingers on your second count, you know then that you have control over the dream.

“Thank you for your entertainment tonight, my friend,” You wave goodbye to it as the scenery changes around you.

You’re back out in nature. A low-hanging tree greets you instead and a white and red checkered blanket is laid before it. The blanket had a mighty spread of slices of bread, jams, cheeses, meats, and tea. You make your way over and sit on the soft blanket, slowly picking the foods to taste. The atmosphere was perfect and the wind blew the smell of fresh water into your nose from the nearby pond. Ducks and geese honk at each other in greeting as they swim by.

Deeper in the picnic basket was more food, but you found them in pairs. Two sandwiches, two teacups, and two dessert cakes. You quizzically stare at them as you hold the two sandwiches, one in each hand. You didn’t eat that much, did you?

“I see that you have started without me,” A voice comments.

You jump in your skin at the sudden intrusion and look up. You see a man, dressed in casual black with an impressive coat.

“Isn’t it a bit too warm to wear such a long coat?” You ask instead.

You don’t protest when he sits next to you and hand him a sandwich instead. He places the wrapped food gently on the ground before taking off his jacket.

“Better?” He asks as he goes to grab his sandwich again.

“Hmm,” You only hum in agreement and start to unwrap your own. It’s a few minutes of silent chewing before you realize how weird this is. “Wait, who are you?”

“No one you haven’t met before,” He answers vaguely. His sandwich was left untouched except for the bread which he threw at the ducks near the pond.

You chew slowly as you try to digest his answer. He pours you a cup of tea which you drink freely from, murmuring a thanks as he hands you the fine china. The smell of vanilla and peaches invades your senses as you sip on the sweet tea. The favor takes you by surprise at how wonderfully it paired with the sandwich. By the end of the picnic, you have learned two things, your mystery man was great company, and that carbs made you comatose.

“Oh, my god. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food in one sitting,” You sigh happily as you lay down on the blanket. Your head hits the hard ground and an idea sparks in you.

Once again you pinch your fingers together and then bring your hands together. You intertwine and loop the golden strings that emit from your movements, much like an old childhood game of yours, Cat’s Cradle, and produce a small pillow.

You place the pillow down and give it a good smack before laying down again. The sun envelopes you in a kind warmth that makes you smile. You see dancing shadows behind your eyelids when you close them to enjoy the moment.

You hear rustling beside you and turn your head towards the man lying down beside you. He really was quite beautiful, something more than a man, perhaps a deity. He is lost in thought, almost, as he thinks about your abilities, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

“You have a great side profile, you know?” You don’t know why you said that, but rarely in dreams do you know why anything happens.

Your comment makes him chuckle, a sound that you wish to hear again. It was light-hearted and pure, something that you wouldn’t expect to hear from someone who looked like him. You couldn’t help but laugh along, finding his happiness contagious.

“Thank you,” He says when he is done laughing.

When the giggles leave your body, you go back to relaxing and soon you doze off. The rest of the dream is peaceful and pure, no more nightmares to haunt you tonight. The Dream Lord looks at you fondly as the wind blows some of your hair astray, happy to assist you for once in his realm. As long as he is here, you won’t have to fight your demons on your own again.

The next morning was the first time in a long time that you felt energized. The old coffee pot is nearly forgotten as you get ready to go on a morning walk, something you have done in a long while. Afterward, a shower, and then lunch with an old friend you haven’t seen in months. He had decided to drop by after his work allowed him to come into the city.

You meet with Oliver at a local cafe and you order tea this time around, along with some soup and a side salad. The AC is on full blast as more and more people come into the small building. You were lucky to find Oliver already waiting for you at a small table by the large windows. He waves at you when you come close enough and then pushes his glasses back into place.

“How have you been, Poppet?” He starts right off the bat with a smile, using the same nickname he’s been using since grade 3. That smile brings you back all the way to your younger days when you first met him as your new neighbor.

You think briefly about possibly mentioning your horrid dreams to him but decide to skip it, seeing as you didn’t want to ruin the mood for today, not to mention the peaceful dream you had last night all but almost made you forget it in its entirety.

“Oh, you know me, running around like a chicken with its head cut off.” You joke with a self-deprecating laugh. Your comment makes you realize that you have to go to work the next day and deal with annoying clients all over again. “Same shit, different day,” You mutter in conclusion.

Both of your foods arrive just in time for you to ignore the glare he sent your way. Instead, you find fascination in the soup you choose, the same soup you had for the past three years of your life.

“What brings you into town?” You ask as you pick apart the complimentary bread.

“Work, of course. Though I never thought it would bring me to this place.” He gestures to the city around him.

Oliver works as a farm veterinarian so, rarely, does he come into a large city where each piece of green is covered in concrete or chewed gum. And, of course, there are no farm animals around. He goes on to talk about a conference that he was invited to, something to do with the fight on farm animal antibiotics. You only nod along as you ate your lunch, your talents lie elsewhere but don't want to seem rude.

Only scraps of your meal are left when the two decide that it is time to depart ways.

“How long are you staying in the city?” You ask outside the cafe. The weather was almost perfect today, save for the slightly chilling wind that came every now and then.

“About a week.” Oliver puts on his jacket and then pushes his round glasses back in place.

“A week, huh?” You thought out loud before a smile came to your face. “You should come by the exhibit later this week. My client is showcasing their art, and going together would be fun.”

“I’ll be there.” Oliver takes the business card you hand him, the heavy paper turns from warm white to gray as the sun disappears behind some clouds.

Rain begins to drizzle and splatter on the card.

“Aw, man. What?” You complain and put your jacket over your head as the rain continues to fall. “There wasn’t a rain forecast today,” You grumble to yourself.

The two of you step under the cafe awning, the thin fabric providing little protection.

“Do you want to stay at my place until the rain lets up? It’s just a few blocks from here.” You offer.

“Lead the way, Poppet,” Oliver says with a smile.

You smile back as you hype yourself to run through the rain. Thank god you wore sensible shoes today. With a squeal, you run in the direction of your apartment. You hear Oliver laughing behind you as he follows closely behind. Your laughter and giggles continue when you two find the comfort of your apartment and quickly turn up the thermostat when you get inside.

“Wow, you’ve decorated the place nicely,” Oliver whistles his approval.

He kindly sets his dripping jacket on the coat rack before you do the same and thank him. He shakes his head, much like a dog, you mused, to get rid of the water as his hair splays out from his actions. You, the more sensible one, simply wrung it out over the kitchen sink.

“Yeah, if work can’t destress me why should my own home be?” You nodded along.

The storm had raged harder ever since you got inside, the rain pelting on the window. If you didn’t have company over, you would’ve tossed all chores to the side and huddled up for a nap. Sleeping has been wonderful ever since you figured out lucid dreaming.

“Poppet, you got a remote for this giant T.V, or what?” Oliver says as he pokes his hands between couch cushions.

“Erm, yeah, somewhere on the T.V. stand.” Your comment was absent minded as you poke around in your small pantry for some snacks.

Your eyes lock on packets of hot chocolate you didn’t know you had and what could be more perfect than a rainy day and hot chocolate with a friend? You squint at the box, looking for the expiration date. When you find it, and see that it’s been expired since last christmas, you pretend you don’t.

There’s probably enough preservative to make the powdered drink last until the end of days, right? Plus who is throwing out food like this? In this economy? You scoff to yourself.

“Want hot chocolate?” You ask, peeking at Oliver’s form in the living room.

He stands in front of the T.V., hip slightly popped out to support himself with a hand on his hip and the other on the remote. The news comes on instead of your usual menu of different streaming services and a confused look takes over Oliver’s face when he turns around.

“No, not that remote, the other one,” You laughed and went ahead to the fridge to warm up some milk anyway.

“Which remote, you have, like, 13 for no reason!” He cries out exasperated but goes to the stand to find the correct remote.

The news continues to play and with nothing better to do, you listen in while you wait for your milk to warm up.

“There has been a recent murder here in our lovely city and we encourage citizens to remain vigilant. The killer has not yet been caught and there is no pattern as to what kind of victims they take.” The news anchor speaks.

“Oh, shit.” Oliver stops his search as he, too, starts listening in to the news.

“Welcome to the city, I guess,” You shrug with a defeated sigh. The milk starts to shimmer before you turn off the stove.

“Still, you should stay safe,” Oliver comments as he finally finds the correct remote, turning in to a streaming service and picking a light hearted movie. You’re mixing the chocolate powder, spoon clinking against the non-matching mugs, and when you don’t answer right away, Oliver presses again. “You will be safe, right?”

“Yes, mom,” You sarcastically groan. “I’ll be safe.”

“That’s my Poppet,” He chides, some of his accent slipping through, and sits down. He opens an arm for you to sit next to him before you hand him the hot chocolate that you made.

“Careful, it’s ho-”

“JESUS!” Oliver exclaims as his face flies away from the mug. His shocked face makes your own burst out into laughter, so much so that you have to set down your mug so that you don’t spill it all over yourself.

“Are you laughing at my pain?” Oliver jokes and pokes your sides.

The ticklish action only makes you laugh harder, if that was at all possible. Seeing your reaction, Oliver goes to poke you again, and you defend weakly as your laughing makes you all but weak.

“Sto-stop, you’re going to make me pee,” You choke out between fits of giggles. Your hands were clenched to your sides as a last ditch effort to conceal your weak points. Your cheeks were starting to hurt and your smile was so wide that you couldn’t even open your eyes anymore. You were simply at the mercy of feeling true happiness.

Oliver eventually stops and the T.V. goes into a mandatory ad break (I mean, you’re not going to pay for no ads after already paying for the streaming service, let’s be real). Your energy is sapped out of you and you deflate into the couch with a satisfied sigh.

“That was the first time tonight I heard you laugh that hard. Has the city been that mean to you?” Oliver asks, now cautiously sipping his drink.

“The city is not mean, it’s just different than home,” You reply with a roll of your eyes. “I wouldn’t change it for anything though.”

Oliver hums in response, whipped cream stuck on his upper lips. You could tell he wanted to say more but decided to keep quiet instead. Eventually, the two of you fell into a comfortable and familiar silence as you watched the rest of the movie.

You ended up crying at a particular scene and Oliver, same old Oliver, poked at you again to try and get you laughing. The rain still hasn't stopped and you’re glad to live on a higher floor of the apartment complex or else you would’ve had to worry about potential flooding.

At the end of the day, you ended up cooking dinner for the two of you as well, convincing Oliver to stay and have a warm meal before going home alone. Especially considering the news about the killer on the loose. You’re on your third movie when the two of you finally finish your late dinner and you fall asleep on the couch against Oliver’s much warmer body.

The body underneath you shifts and your eyes snap open.

“Sorry, Oliver, didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” You apologize before you’re completely awake.

“It is nothing of note,” Someone else’s voice responds instead.

You rub your eyes and take a closer look at him and are surprisingly greeted by your mystery man. He wears the same clothes as the last time you met, only this time it’s warranted as you feel the chilling wind brush against your prickling skin. Unconsciously you crawl closer to him again and he wraps a protective arm around your body.

Looking around at your surroundings you notice that the two of you were huddled amongst the clouds. Stars and nebulas dance around the two of you in sparkling wonder. When you reach out your hand to touch a star and find it surprising when you are greeted with a cold feeling. Your hand snaps back quickly and you tuck it under your arms to quickly warm up.

“Guess I’m dreaming again,” You comment nonchalantly and lean back. The clouds seem to know where to stop and you’re lying comfortably by the man’s side again.

“Ever the perceptive one,” He responds back.

“I didn’t know I could dream of something this… spectacular,” You think to yourself, taking the risk to rest your head on his shoulders. Besides momentarily stiffening under your touch, he doesn’t move away, something you took as a good sign.

“You did not, I did,” He says slowly.

“Hmm, it’s nice, thank you.” You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth.

Besides you, the Endless smiles to himself at your compliment. To him, it was nothing more than the wave of his hand to gift you this dream. He would be lying to himself if he were to say he hasn’t been waiting for you to cross over to the Dreaming since your last dream. His fascination for your abilities grows stronger yet.

Yet, he has created a beautiful enough dream that you didn’t find the need to change anything, something he takes pride in. Your waking world has left you tired and weary, and he is here to provide. A tugging sensation pulls at him and he remembers why he is here.

“My Dreamweaver, I have something to tell you. You must listen carefully.” His words were calculated when he spoke. “You are in danger, be cautious.”

“What?”

“This dream is over.”

You wake up in your bed with a dry mouth and a pounding headache. When you roll over to look at the glowing digital clock, it reads 3:00 AM. With a groan, you leave your warm bed to tread the treacherous cold apartment for a glass of water.

You fill up a small cup with some water and notice that by your sink is a small note, scribbled in red crayon. Your tired eyebrows shoot up at the note and grimace at the atrocious handwriting that was undoubtedly Oliver’s.

“Poppet, I can’t find your pens but I found this crayon by the TV remotes Don’t worry I called a cab I won’t get murdered tonight cause I’m vigilant unlike some people Mwah, Oliver”

That night, your mystery man didn’t visit you again. He only leaves his vague message that echoes in the empty chambers of your heads. You’re plagued with dreams of drowning and despite all you can do to take control of the nightmare, there is nothing you can do but subject yourself to the violent, crashing waves. To constantly inhale gallons of gallons of salty water, to feel your muscles tired out, to feel yourself lose control.

Your only salvation throughout the week was seeing Oliver again at the art exhibit. The murders haven’t stopped and it’s gotten enough traction for everyone in the office to talk about it, too. Yet, you could turn to your dreams instead to find relief.

The man clad in black follows you still into your dreams, any mention of his message is quickly shut down or ignored completely. At the end of the day, you don’t mind, his company is more than enough to make your dreams sweet. He accompanies you through wildflower fields and stardust skies, he brushes your hair by the seashore and tells you the myths of old. Each day is a new dream and brings forth a reason to keep going.

“A few nights ago,” He starts as he watches you gently touch the petals of a flower made of snow and glass. You turn to him expectantly and urge him to continue silently. “You did not call for me when you were having that nightmare.”

It takes a few moments for you to realize he was talking about your drowning nightmare. The one you so “wonderfully” had after an amazing time in the swirling cosmos. You begin to walk again, your shoes making no noise against the cold snow. The man follows beside you, face tilted towards yours in anticipation. His question had been burning at the back of his mind since it happened and he held on, barely, for the answer.

“You can’t really scream when you’re drowning.” Your lousy excuse comes out and even you flinch at the words.

You don’t dare to look at him, knowing the disappointed look he was surely giving you. Everyone knows that anything is possible when you dream, even more when you can lucid dream. After a very pregnant pause you give you real reason.

“I don’t know your name, how would I call out for you, my sweet mystery man.”

It’s now that he stops walking and after a few steps, you too pause and turn to look at him. In the cold mountains of your dream, the snow is stark in contrast to his ebony form. It is here that you recognize how different he was, like the snow pulls away from any distractions and you look at him, really look at him. The facade of just a man falls away, and within, you see a being beyond your comprehension, held together by sheer will. You were right, he was more than mortal, more than a god, something more in every sense.

“I am Dream of the Endless,” He says, voice slow, calculated and raspy as he closes the gap between the two of you. “I am the very dream you are in, the voice inside your head, the person you think you’ve met before while walking the street.”

You’re very aware of how close he was to you now, to see the precipitation of his breath, and the way his eyes are never truly one color. His form keeps the winter chill away from your body, warming the very spot you stood in where snow turns into sunlight and the ground beneath you turns to soft valley grass and wildflowers made of toffee candy and sour rope candy.

“Would you really have come if I called for you?” You ask timidly, head turned down and away from his gaze.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You say with a smile, cheeks crinkling your eyes as you look at him again. All Dream could think about was making a sun that shines as brightly as you.

Your dreams seem to start leaping out into your waking life as the words of the Endless follow you. Every now and then you would notice a flurry of black and alabaster skin in the peripheral of your vision, but when you go to look it’s nothing but a chair, or a stack of books. His familiar face haunts you when you space out on the bus ride home, or when you’re simply walking down the street and someone bumps into you that just barely looks like him.

Each time you shake your head no, it was impossible, he was only a dream.

The night before the exhibit, Oliver gives you a text message that explains that he would need to be picked up from another location. A client had called him for an at-home euthanasia early in the morning right before the exhibit. You agreed and were sent an address. You brush your teeth and wash your face before turning into bed, sleep coming easily.

Your dream starts, as always, with you counting your fingers. Then you look at your watch, and then you count your fingers again. Your clock had 5 hands instead of two and with control over the dream, you find yourself standing in an Asian inspired pergola surrounded by water for miles around. The only sounds that accompany you are the sound of the sloshing water and the wind’s percussion between the mountain cracks.

You sit on the wooden flooring, cooled by the water, and inhale the scent of fresh water. You bring your fingers together, just like always, and watch as the golden strings move with your movement, producing a pouch of fish food. Large koi fish swim beneath you and you run a finger across the water’s surface and watch with a small smile as they chase your fingers as you sprinkle some of the golden kibble along the water's surface. A koi leaps up and bites your finger and the sharp pain flings your arm away from the water.

“Ow, what the hell?” You frown and look at your finger, the pouch dispersing into gold dust. Pressing into the digit allows blood to leak from the wound. You don’t have time to think about it when your alarm blares at you and you wake.

Your day starts in a rush, slamming your hand over the off button of the alarm clock. You skiddy your way into your bathroom, brushing your teeth, combing your hair and doing your makeup. Your outfit was ready on the door of your bedroom. The casual formal wear was perfect for the day ahead. Comfortable but respectable and easily spotted if someone were to come looking for you.

You look at your watch before briskly walking out the door, a few minutes ahead of schedule and traffic. When you arrive at the house Oliver had told you to, you stand outside the door as you hear murmuring from inside the door. You remember why Oliver was here in the first place and slowly lean against the wall to wait for him.

“He was the most perfect dog, he was loved, he was cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease his suffering so he may continue to run in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s voice carries through the thin wall.

Sobbing follows after and hushes of comfort as the dog passes in the arms of the owner. Uncomfortable that you were involuntarily eavesdropping in such a private conversation you start to play with your hands, picking at the nails and the cuticles around them. It’s now that you see, with a quickening heartbeat, a closed over wound on your finger. When you run your thumb over it, the pain long since subdued, you are reminded of a feisty koi bite from a certain dream.

Was it real then? The dream, or merely the pain?

“Ah, Poppet, you’re here already,” Oliver’s whisper pulls you out of your thoughts slowly. “Is your finger hurt?” He notices and reaches for your hand.

“No,” You say quickly, perhaps too quickly, and move your hands away. “It’s just a scratch. Shall we go?” You turn before you give him a chance to answer.

The exhibit, while productive, was blanketed over by a feeling of grief and melancholy. Your artist was soaking in the praises of success, but you find yourself sticking by Oliver’s side, drinking mimosas hoping the little alcohol could erase the uneasiness in your throat. Your finger gives phantom pains now and then, reminding you of the breaking cracks between dreams and real life.

It’s only noon and you’re exhausted, giving the keys to Oliver to drive you back to your place. As if to taunt you even more, the elevator was down for repairs and so arm in arm, you and Oliver make your way up the seven sets of stairs until you reach your own apartment.

“Oh my God, I can taste blood,” You whine, leaning all of your weight onto Oliver by the fifth floor. He, on the other hand, could not have looked more pristine.

“When was the last time you exercised?” He chuckles as he lets you rest for a moment.

You groan as your hand grasps onto the worn metal railing. “I briskly walked to my car this morning,” Your voice is gravelly and hoarse as you use your arm to continue upwards. “After the elevator ride down to the main floor.”

“Good grief, woman,” He jests. “We need to get you to the gym.”

“Over my dead body,” You huff as you make your way again, steps heavy and stomping, the sound echoing in the empty chamber.

The barren of your door gave you the last bit of energy to finish. The sight of your couch was enough for you to flop onto it and simply wish to perish. You’re breathing heavily out of your mouth, face to the ceiling and bounce when Oliver sits down next to you with exaggeration.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Oliver teases, barely winded by the seven flights of stairs. You on the other hand felt like you had just come from a week at sea with nothing but a row boat and canned crackers.

“I’m going to go shower, do you want to stay for lunch?” You ask, already halfway to your room after you caught your breath.

“No, I’ve got my own thing to do, packing mostly.” You hear Oliver’s voice from the bathroom. You turn on the water to let it warm up and peek out of your bedroom. “Alright, I’ll see you off in a few days, yeah?”

Oliver’s outside your door and the sudden proximity makes you jump in your skin.

“Geez, you scared me. I thought you were still in the kitchen,” You say behind a small laugh.

“I’m going to head out, alright? But yeah, let’s meet one more time before I leave later this week.” Oliver smiles and pokes your forehead.

“Sounds good,” You agree, staring at the finger.

“Stay safe out there, Poppet.” He waves and goes for the door. “I’ve got a cab waiting for me downstairs.”

You use the shower to cleanse yourself of not only the physical properties of today, and more importantly the sweat you accumulated walking up the steps, but also the more emotional toil. The warm water seemingly soaking up all of your depressive thoughts. It runs down the water and out the drain, and you feel lighter when you step out.

You’re drying your hair with your towel when you see the brown square that is Oliver’s wallet sitting on your couch - opening it and seeing his ID card clarifies it. You groan as you know that he can’t get anywhere without his wallet, especially if he wants to leave.

An internal debate was settled with going to his place before you pick something up for dinner. You place the wallet by your keys near the front door and make yourself some lunch, and put some much needed laundry into the washer while it cooks. You watch a small episode while you eat before returning to your work laptop and answering emails.

The day goes by quickly and the rumbling of your stomach tells you that it’s time for dinner and more importantly, returning Oliver’s wallet. You redress in the same clothes you wore earlier that day, deciding to just deal with the high heels as any other shoe wouldn’t tie in well with your outfit, and you were not going to go out looking anything less than put together.

How lucky you were when you walked down the hall to find the elevator back in operation. Down, down you went, seven flights of stairs to the parking garage. The echoing beep of your car tells you where Oliver had parked for you and you climb in.

Traffic was a pain in the ass and you couldn't take another slow minute during dinner rush. Beeps and honks accompany you all the way to Oliver’s home and it takes a solid 45 minutes to travel 10 miles. You knock on Oliver’s door and you don’t know why but you’re nervous. There wasn’t an answer and you knocked again. Nothing. The door is unlocked and with a shrug to yourself you enter.

All of the lights were turned off when you entered, fumbling about to turn on the lobby light near the door. The rented home was much bigger than your medium apartment and you seriously start to regret your career choice.

“Oliver?” You call out, taking off your shoes and putting them aside.

No answer.

“Ollieeee…” You sing out as you make your way further into the house. You drop the wallet on the dining room table and still nothing. You knew he was here, somewhere, the rental car he had was still in the driveway when you pulled up.

You bring out your phone, about to call him, when a small noise directs you to a staircase that leads downstairs and you make your way into the finished basement. When you open the door, something you never thought you would see greets you instead. Yes, Oliver was there but so was another woman. She’s tied down to a wooden table and you think you’re interrupting something if it wasn’t for the way her teary eyes snap towards you. Despair is washed out with a small glint of hope as her trembling hand reaches for you.

“Help me,” She pleads.

Oliver calls your name, almost breathlessly, and walks closer to you. In his hand holds a small knife, blood already smeared on the glinting metal. He greets you with a smile, but your attention is on the woman on the table.

“Please.” She sobs again.

You’re numb, on the brink of hyperventilation, and you’re sure that if you had gotten dinner before coming here you would’ve thrown up all over the vinyl flooring.

“Oliver,” You gulp down as you take a step back.

He advances with another step, knife still in hand as the blood drips down onto the floor. He approaches you like a predator to scared prey, and he wouldn’t be wrong. His weaponless hand wraps around your wrist, warm and alive just like all of the other times he has done since you became friends all those years ago.

“Come here.” He guides you closer. “This is our guest, Poppet.” He introduces.

The woman squirms against her restraints and cusses. “Stop calling me Poppet, my name is fucking Alora, let me go!”

Oliver guides you closer and then slinks behind you, using his body to trap you from the exit. From this distance you can see the cuts and bruises Alora endured and you lean away in denial. Bile crawls up from the bottom of your throat begging to be released, it’s acidity painful to swallow. Alora’s tear stains seem permanent as another one follows its path as she watches the two of you lean over her.

“Let.. let her go,” You say with a shaky breath. It’s the opposite of assertive, the opposite of a demand.

Oliver sighs behind you and slams the blade down on the table and both you and Alora flinch at the sudden noise. He laughs behind you, the breath tickling the nape of your neck.

“I thought we could… share her,” He responds. You feel his lips on the junction of your neck and your body trembles again.

“Share… her,” You echo.

This wasn’t real, there was no way this was real. No, you were definitely dreaming, Oliver took you home and then after your shower you fell asleep. He never left his wallet at your place. Oliver heals, he would never…

You look down at your fingers, they’re shaking but still countable. One, two, three, four, five. You look at your watch, and with dread you notice that everything is in its place. One, two, three, four, five. It’s still the right time. One, two, three, four, five.

“A dream, this has to be a dream. A nightmare.” You lie to yourself. Your thumb presses into each of your fingers and to your dismay, there are still five.

You look down at Alora again, her eyes wide and begging and her fingers go to grab at you.

“Ah, ah, none of that.” Oliver notices and pushes her fingers away from the two of you.

His attention turns back to you again. “What do you think of it?” He asks, his hands resting on your hips and to your further disgust inhales your scent.

“What do I think of it?” You echo again except this time it was more harsh, judgemental as it should be.

Oliver scoffs and leaves your side. He walks to the other side of the table, knife back in hand as he points it to Alora’s face.

“Look at Poppet here, notice anything?”

That’s when you look at her, really look at her. At first you didn’t see it, or maybe your mind was simply trying to prevent you from seeing it, but under Oliver’s scrutinizing gaze you notice with teary eyes. Her hair was the same color as yours, so were her eyes, they even mimicked the way yours were shaped. Her lips curled just like yours as they’re upturned in agony.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” You gag, your hand flies to cover your mouth as you dry heave.

“No, don’t be, my sweet Poppet,” Oliver comes to you again and holds your face steady. His eyes have always been like they are now, caring, soft, non-dangerous, but seeing his actions made you doubt everything. “Here, you can watch for the first time instead, how about that?”

“Wh-what?” You gape and he pulls away from you. He places the knife over Alora’s throat and her sobbing and pleas grow louder.

“NO!” You scream and go to reach for the knife, unsure where the sudden bravery comes from. But, it’s too late, he slices, you feel the way his muscle moves under your palm, how it grips the blade, how it ticks when it kills.

The blood sprays and decorates you in its red and sticky liquid and you’re left stunned. Beneath you, you hear as Alora chokes on her own blood as her body trashes as a last ditch effort of escape. Oliver looks at you with a smile, his white shirt decorated just like yours. He looks at you with adoration and something like pride as he places the knife down and comes to you again.

“You look even more beautiful in red, Poppet,” He compliments, but it falls on deaf ears. His lips press to yours in a one sided kiss and you weakly push back. “Let me clean everything up and then I’ll take care of you, okay?”

You stand still as you watch him, rag in hand as he begins to clean.

“You were the most perfect person, you were loved, you were cared for. And it gives me great honor that you allow me to ease your suffering so you may continue to live free in the never ending fields of the afterlife.” Oliver’s familiar eulogy snaps you out of your shock, if not for a brief moment.

It’s enough for you to run out the door, adrenaline blazes down your spine and pumps to all of your limbs. The door almost flies off its hinges as you open it into the dark night. You don’t know where you’re going to go, but anywhere is better than here.

“Poppet! Wait!” Oliver screams behind you and he’s fast to catch you.

Your bare feet scrap across the concrete sidewalk as your vision blurs with salty tears. You trip into an alleyway and sob, your pristine clothes now covered in dirt and blood, and you hear the crack of your watch as it breaks under the fall. At the edges of your mind, a small girl with wild and colorful hair peeks at you in fishnets, the world warps, distorting the difference between reality and delirium.

A moment of clarity comes to you as you remember something. It tries to fall between the crevices of your mind but you grab onto it and hold it close.

“Would you really have come if I called for you?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“Dream,” You cry out into the darkness. Oliver finds you on the ground and his arms pick you up. “No, no, let go of me!”

The man clad in black doesn’t show his face and you beat yourself over it, because of course he doesn’t. It was just a dream. This is reality. Despite it all, you try one more time. A name falls on your tongue, one you didn’t previously know.

“Morpheus!” You scream and the calling echoes in the suburban neighborhood.

Oliver pays you no mind and hoists you onto his shoulders. You’re pounding at his back but his muscles never falter. He walks back with heaving breaths to his house when he is suddenly stopped and drops you. You unceremoniously roll and then sit quickly to run away again. You’re stopped short at the sight.

In front of Oliver stands a man, his form fuzzy at the sides and blends in to the night around them. He wears a helm made of bones, accompanied by a bright ruby necklace, and a leather pouch of sand.

“Dream?” You question and his gaze turns to you. You can’t see his eyes past the large bug-like design of the helm, but you know he sees you.

“Who the hell are you?” Oliver sneers at him.

Dream doesn’t reply and instead he shrinks back into the shadows and wisps around until he stands in front of you. You hide behind his back as he protects you from Oliver.

“Hey, get away from my Poppet.” Oliver takes a step forward but is stopped by Dream’s words.

“Be quiet,” He commands. It’s two words, but it renders him speechless. “I turn you into prey. Your judgment upon you is to be hunted. Even after you wish for death, you will form into another and be hunted again. This is my gift to you, Oliver Barlowe, make good use of it.”

The curse is etched in stone as he speaks. He pours from his leather pouch and sand falls between his fingers. He curls then unfurls them before blowing the particles into Oliver’s face. You watch with horror as his form shrinks under the swirling sand and he turns into a shrew. He runs into the grass, his brown fur lost amongst the foliage.

“Hello, my Dreamweaver,” He whispers and crouches to your height on the cold concrete. He extends a patient hand and you grab hold. “Come, nightmares shall hunt you no further.”

“You came,” You say, still in disbelief as he helps you stand.

“I kept my promise. I do not break such vows, ever.” His fingers gently wipe away the tears from your face.

"You're real," You whisper, still not believing that he stands before you.

His fingers trace across your bottom lip as he comes closer to you still. Dream doesn't say anything, he simply soaks in your presence, drawn to you in a way neither of you could comprehend. His fingers still trace your face, running over your nose and the apple of your cheekbones.

You feel the swirling of sand around your feet and the world changes around you. You’re in the meadows again, surrounded by flowers made of snow and glass, and you see the cabin your grandfather built. Dream sits you down on a white and red checkered picnic blanket with two glasses of lemonade.

“Will you stay?” You ask as you grab the cool glass cup of lemonade. Your gaze turns to the sweet yellow drink and you rub the smooth glass as a way of calming yourself.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You smile.

Alsooooo, very inappropriate use of being a veterinarian, we don't kill people and we don't make that much money, sigh

My Sandman comics came and they're so heavy... Second also, Comic Dream is such a mood

Maybe a more lighthearted fic for next time, hmm?

♡ Yours, Layla

#the sandman #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman x reader #sandman x reader

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