Ohhh this is so very wrong.

[blindingtrust]

It was the weirdest dream Ivy would ever have. She never really saw things in her dreams. It was as if her subconscious ha long given up on sight even if there had been situations in which she had seen. Even then her mind refused to give her color or shapes in her dreams. Though she did get other things in her dreams, like texture, smells, sometimes even tastes.

Like dancing a wild dance with someone she was sure she didn’t know. They were wearing gloves after all. And the dancing was different from any other dance. She almost swore that it wasn’t music she was hearing but screams. Oh god what was really going on?

“Come on,” she hears the man order her and she’s dragged along quickly. She stumbles over her familiar shoes. The ones she wears when she’s at a fancy party and doesn’t need to worry about breaking her ankle. Shit, she knew this guy. Had to because she wouldn’t normally wear these damn shoes.

Soon it jumps like all dreams. She’s in a car and the driver is laughing madly as they’re speeding along. Ivy feels frightened because this doesn’t feel safe but soon a hand is on her knee and she isn’t scared at all. She doesn’t understand why. But there is the sound of guns firing and she feels everything in her clench from fear again.

The car is soon parked and they’re running again. Ivy isn’t used to anyone being in the lead. She’s used to things being equal or with her in control to some degree. Independence is something she’s so used to. Who the hell is this guy to think he can control her? But they’re still running and his laughter is too wild for her to understand. The sky even seems to be opening up. She can smell the pre-rain in the air and finds herself pulled against him. His chest is heaving from the running and he feels so warm that Ivy forgets her anger. She forgets it and finds herself wanting to lean into him. Such a strange dream for her.

But not so strange when it turns to rough kisses both of them fighting for control. He won’t let her touch his face and she grunts in frustration against his mouth. He’s backing her up against a wall and she’s trying to not get distracted by how warm he is. She also notices that he’s taller than her but it’s ok. What isn’t is how frantic he‘s making her inside by not letting her touch him.

“Damn it! Let…Let me touch you,” she hisses against him. She needs to know who he is by touching him. He won’t get rid of his gloves or let her touch him. It isn’t fair at all. He must know who she is but she has no idea who he is and yet she’s ready to beg him to do anything right now because he’s so fucking warm.

“Why don’t you know?” He laughs and it hits her worse than a ton of bricks. “The Joker’s my name—“

And with that Ivy wakes up with a screech of disgust. She’s just mortified and ready to puke. She fights of the sheets and blankets that had themselves wrapped around her and she sniffs the air. Just sweat nothing else. It was a sick dream and she’ll need at least two hours in the shower to stop feeling so goddamn filthy.

“Oh fucking HELL. What did I eat to deserve that?” Ivy isn’t going to ever forgive herself for that dream.



((This is from an LOL. So yeah. Might not want to read it.))