dreamscape ( dangerous fellows x reader )

01 ; mystification

A blaring sound filters through, slips into, and stirs your consciousness—

From a distance, it sounds like... a bell?

An ineffably empty feeling blankets around you in your dazed state—

Empty? No, there has to be something, but...

Fragments of dialogue surge through your mind—

Cherry tom... together... Ha..?

Athletic tape, Eth...

Let's play... ion!

Hey! Not fair... Eu..!

Thanks, Lawr...

Run, [Name]!

—but you can't make anything meaningful out of it.

A blend of the familiarity of reality, but simultaneously surreal like a dream—but what?

Can't think. Too early in the morning for this...

The sound grows louder, closer in proximity.

Morning?

The light seeping through from your left (the windows, maybe?) suddenly registers, and perhaps everything starts to make a little more sense. (Unfortunately, it barely does. Does anything ever make sense?)

With [colour] eyes finally flitting open, roused from your disrupted slumber, your gaze meets the plain, run-of-the-mill beige of the ceiling. Nothing more than a few bedroom lights furnishes your view above, and noticeably, silence fills your ears. While it seemed rowdy just moments before, the previous racket immediately ebbs into... nothingness, for the lack of a better word.

Reluctantly sitting up, you groggily rub your eyes as your eyes dart towards the untouched alarm clock to the pristine bedside table on your right, confidently illuminating '9:32 AM'.

It feels strange being able to wake up without an alarm clock, as if you've gone without one for a long time. Odd—they aren't a luxury to have, or at least that's what you think. At least you have zeitgebers to thank.

The more awake you feel, the more you become aware of the chill pressing against your middle finger. A thin obsidian ring encircles the digit, but you can't quite recall ever having worn jewelry, much less the ring in plain sight.

The strange, ineffable feeling returns, but you still can't put your finger on it.

The entire ordeal seems frustrating, much like the cries of your empty stomach.

Guess it's time for breakfast, you muse while hauling yourself off the scratchily stiff bed sheets (weird—the cotton usually seems softer than this) and forcing yourself to freshen up and get dressed for the day. Your closet seems a bit emptier than you remember, with a green jumper here, ripped jeans there, a tattered baseball jacket thrown off to the side, piled on top of a simple white t-shirt and sweats. It's as if someone—or something—has stripped you of your belongings.

In fact, everything else in the house seems rather bare—or minimalist, as Judy likes to call it—once you step out into the matching, plain beige living room. Again, you fail to pinpoint why.

Judy!

At the thought of your close friend, you instinctively reach for your charging smartphone for the contacts list.

However, Judy is the only entry to be seen.

No other friends.

No family.

The more you think about it, the more of a headache you detect from the strain on your mind. You can't quite remember the names or faces of any of your other friends—did you even have any other friends to begin with? The blank becomes more increasingly clear once your muses drift off to family. You have a vague understanding that your mother is gone; a business trip, perhaps?

You feel terrible for forgetting, but you trust the hope that she'll be back... soon.

The void known as your feisty stomach growls once more, and with food as your greatest source of motivation, you quickly send out an invite to eat out for breakfast with Judy—'hey, you awake yet? wanna grab breakfast? i'm hungry!'

The pause is short-lived, as your phone dings with an immediate reply; you can definitely appreciate her response time. 'Yea! I was thinking of asking u actually, there's this cafe I want to try'

Another ding, another message. This time, an address follows with a map attached, and to end it off, a brief 'c u there, I expect u to show up in 15 minutes max!!'

Your eyes widen at her sudden expectations, a good indication that you need to leave the house as soon as possible. Without paying much heed to the rest of your bland surroundings, nor the occurrence of them, you hastily run back to grab the old baseball jacket resting on the base of your 'minimalist' closet and your purse, dashing down the hallway before throwing on your socks and sneakers and bolting out of the door in the span of three minutes. Thankfully, you hurriedly manage to confirm the presence of money in your wallet and attempt to fix your hair by running your fingers through your [colour] tresses in your outburst to leave the building.

If nothing else, you're a self-proclaimed master of multitasking. You aren't entirely sure whether or not that's a good thing, however.

The moment you step foot outside, a puff of wind greets you at the door. You step back to process the copious rays of sunshine stroking your skin in warm caresses, and the white mixed with light blue hues in the sky. You find yourself craving the heat, as if you haven't experienced it in a while...

You slap yourself in an effort to stop your fleeting reverie, and a brief glance at the lock screen of your phone suggests that you only have eight minutes to spare. In eight minutes, you miraculously navigate your way to the address listed, which you feel is an accomplishment considering how even your geographical location seems off, somehow.

There's reassurance in believing in the hope that maybe Judy will have answers to your strangely mystified morning.

While the coffee shop is located blocks and blocks away from your house (is it really your house if it doesn't feel like 'home'?), you don't really feel... tired. It's normal to heavily pant and feel out of breath after enduring such a long distance, but something tells you that you must've done something similar recently to not feel nearly as fatigued. But what you could've been running so intensely for, you could't tell, either.

The streets appear awfully barren, as you notice being able to count the total number of people you passed on the way to the cafe with a single hand. Maybe everybody's just sleeping in?

The petite figure with messy orange hair sticks out like a sore thumb, but granted, she's also the only figure on the block. As you dash over to her, Judy embraces you into a hug without a moment of hesitation in spite of the sweat from your sprint.

"Good morning, [Name]! Great, you're just on time; now let's go!" Judy immediately beams, taking your hand in hers as she pulls you into the homely establishment before you could voice your salutations amidst your light breaths.

Stepping over the threshold and into the cafe, a friendly voice resounds in the air upon entry.

"Welcome!"

Rather than taking in the sight of the decorative coffee shop, your gaze first lands on the server in question, with kempt silver hair and bangs swept off to the side.

And almost instinctively, your eyes wander to the obsidian ring on your finger.