I'm not a Dune reader, I only watched the movies. Everything here is fanfiction!
Summary: Paul succeeded at bending most of the noble houses at his upcoming command. You are the leader of a Minor House, Polaria. Spending some time with Paul before battles, you find yourself resonating with Muad'Dib, and your advice to the older boy is: don't let them take Atreides from you.
Longshot, time jumps, platonic, gender neutral reader, lots of high fantasy stuff
*In purple: creation of mine, fanfiction.
The curved walls weren't welcoming, it's dead gray like a panicking hug, differently from the colorful shapes of your planet. You could still remember the suffer of waking up inside concrete boxes, which they called chambers — at your little palace, the place where you'd settle your head to sleep was adorned on silk, feathers, and rainbow furniture. Walking through corridors busting with laughing children, maidens carrying baskets, warriors with swords, elders with it's incenses perfuming the air. Greeting many faces, and trying to remember all of them, was a daily task. You had to smile even when you didn't want to, for there was no time or room for melancholy and paranoia.
And now, you would find yourself praying to find anyone at all willing to even look at you. Irrelevance, how much of a pain it could be. And loneliness was a death sentence to a Polaritia.
After your platoon playing a definitive role at a conquering battle against one of the Major Houses, Duke Paul started to pay more attention to you. He'd discuss attack plans with you, trust your guidance and build teams at your observations.
“They have no reasons, nor power, to come against me” he said nonchalantly to Halleck. “Sometimes the weakest, the smallest ones, are the ones to trust”
You were teached to be trustworthy, but not the one who trust. The Atreides house could hold the power of the Voice now, but forgotten people like Polaritia mastered the ability of listening. You'd spend minutes hearing the Duke's casual thoughts, his worries, his plans and his craziness. From time to time, the boy would talk to himself, lost in visions and ghosts that only he could deal with. You were there, standing like a tree, pretending to not be paying attention until he remembered of your existence again.
The catch is; there was no catch. You were as important as a stone, a tool, your value based on for what the Duke would need you for. And it had to change.
“Your Highness, Muad'Dib” you get on a knee until he pats your shoulder, walking to his own bed.
“Polaris” he says in a casual tone. The title of the leader of your little nation became your name. Actually, he probably doesn't know your name. “It's late. And you don't come to me without a reason. Something bothering you?”
Not that he cared if the answer was yes. You stand straight, hands behind your back, eyes following the skinny man as he sits on his duvets. “I'd like to ask what awaits my nation, Your Highness”
He raises a dark eyebrow. His hair follows his head as it tilts slowly, blue eyes looking at some specific point inside your being. That eerie aura only he could carry.
“You should be clearer, Polaris. That sentence could have different meanings. And I can give you as many answers” yes, he could. Your eyes wander from his, as you inhale and humbly declare:
“I have no interest on your holy visions, Muad'Dib”
His eyebrow is still up as he smile, and nod. For a moment, he's silent, looking at nowhere, caressing his own hands. He nods once more, not talking or daydreaming, but coming to a conclusion. Your heart was beating at your ears, a pressure on your chest as the worst answers come to your mind.
“Your people is amazing at arts, we could make use of some cultural schools. And no one compares to your acrobatics” he's not looking at you while he speaks, making sure his thoughts are being well articulated. “I don't need more worshippers. But I don't need more nobles too”
When his eyes meet yours again, there's a silent question in the air. You were following his logic, and you knew the right answer to give even before he could ask. He knew that too.
He leans back at the bedpost, hands crossed on top of his spread legs. “Can Polaria promise neutrality and loyalty?”
The answer was a definite yes. There was no room for a no. Yet, you keep seconds of silence. Your lips part, and your eyebrows lift slightly. But your face gets back to a plain, obedient expression.
“My people has a deep passion for the colors, for the life” it wasn't an explanation. “With your protection and affection, we would be guardians. Your art, your culture, our enemie's. Not vowed to the House of Atreides, but servants of joy and knowledge. A safe place for the ones interested on nurturing something more than power”
He stay quiet. His eyes go to nothing again. His thumb clashes against the back of the white hand it holds, feet swaying carelessly. It lasts a minute or two, until he looks at you with the most serious face he could do in his sleepwear.
“Isn't passion the biggest of the fuels, Polaris? Wouldn't your House behold a power too high for it's hands to reach?”
You couldn't contain the sparkle in your eyes. That specific feeling at the roof of your mouth, something warm inside your stomach. The smile wasn't at your face, and your voice was cold, but he could see through the etiquette. His own pupils dilated with interest, challenge.
“We are inside a flying machine, Muad'Dib” your hands tighten at your back, and you don't know if you're breathing when he smiles right after you say: “The sky was never a limit”
Ever since that day, for the first time, the people of Polaria had a purpose. The citizen captured the message, and in no time the planet was well organized to be some sort of academic safe haven. The well trained warriors were with you, battling for the Imperium. Your acrobats, illusionists, and alchemists something to be reckon when joined with the Fremen. Your mind was always aligned with Paul's, and even if no one would dare to consider you such, you became an arm of his operation. But, as nothing can be perfect, the Duke of Arrakis would also keep you at an arm's length. You couldn't read the reason, not when he looked so distant and nonchalant every time you two were alone.
Being alone with him was as entertaining as terrifying. He was easy to memorize, easy to decode, if you pay enough attention to the details. The way he would smile at things without importance, or the way he couldn't hide the turmoil inside his mind when destiny obligate him to go against him instincts. Changing weight from a feet to another when about to snap at someone, or his jawline straightening when in the smallest amount of fear.
“You seemed so sure about this. The marriage, I mean” the commentary comes out in a quiet tone, as you don't look at him in respect. “What changed?”
Can I help you in any way? was the question. He kept staring at himself on a mirror, the royal silver outfit contrasting to his disheveled hair. He asked the maidens to leave before they could finish his look. The boy needed silence, and it was understandable.
When he doesn't answer, you look at the floor. “Is it the Fremen woman?” his fingers twitch beside his body. That was enough.
There was nothing you could do about his lost love. Nothing you could do about any of his feelings, at all. So, you stay there, quietly waiting for him to speak up. When he does, the distress wouldn't be detectable. Except for the fact you knew him enough to do so.
“Do you think these clothes look good on me, Polaris?” you don't answer, but your eyes go back to his reflection. He's quiet, and you only know you were supposed to say something when his eyes meet yours.
You swallow words. Compliments and critiques. He reads it. An eyebrow is lift, a silent inquisition.
“I do, Muad'Dib” you say with an uncommon hesitation. You knew he needed more than that. “Personally, I dislike it. The attire, I mean. It... It is the Imperium style, their colors. And... That doesn't feel like you, Your Highness”
He ponders. That was clearly an unexpected answer, but he didn't seem to disagree. “I bet you don't know the colors I used to wear”, his tone was cold. “Black. Dark like tar. In simple attires, thought to represent both royalty and strength.”
Considering the armory, and how he could pull it off, you could picture he looked equally good at those. But you stay quiet, letting him think. “This feels wrong. It's too light, makes me vulnerable to any threat. It's shiny, attracts attention. It's trouble” he was mostly talking to himself. “I'd be dead in minutes wearing this at Arrakis.”
His voice drifts away. He tense up, jaw clenching. Fear. Fear of losing his past. Himself. The woman he truly loves and the people who put him where he is. And his eyes water. Sorrow, grief for what was no longer on his life.
“Duke?” you call out. He hears, but doesn't react. Your chest inflated when you inhale deeply, closing your eyes while doing your best to maintain education. But you decide to flip the coin.
Your steps are purposely noisy when your boots reach the floor. You stop at his front, but not directly, not blocking the mirror. Your gloved hands find his collar, fixing an asymmetric button.
Your skin burns when his eyes are on it, and the air inside your lungs suddenly feels too warm. But you play nonchalant, hands slow, delicate, careful not to break into his walls. “If the worms of Arrakis could see, they'd call you dramatic. That's how I would describe the high houses's style.”
He raises an eyebrow, like he always do when curious or barely listening to you. “In my planet, we dress however we wish to. I, a leader, could wear either a white dress for battle, or a pink armor for a dance. Our streets are almost blinding with colors. It's insane, really.”
Your fingers trace other details of his clothes, fixing slight errors, straightening the shiny cloth. “I can't really see the use of a silver attire. It's brilliant, it's smooth, but... What is it implying? Why is it relevant to an Emperor?”
“I don't see the dramatic part” he comments lowly, emotionless.
“The drama is a whole House have a color to dress. Unnecessary, vain, indeed” after having nothing left to pretend to fix, you join your hands at your back, meeting his eyes with a polite smile. “I know my House is loyal to me and our ideals, even if we are many, and not only a family. We don't need a color or a shield. We're Polaritia.”
He only looks at you, taking what you said with a cherish he couldn't express. A nod, and he turns on his heels, summoning maidens to fix his hair.
Mission accomplished. You eased the tension on him once more, giving him something random to think about.
The days would go on like this. When not on field, fighting, you were wandering around spaceships, fortresses, either busy with the newfound Cultural Center of Polaria, with your own platoon, or, well, making sure Paul Atreides wouldn't go insane. The more battles won and planets conquered, the more his eyes would go hollow blue. Distant, shallow, lost inside his disturbed mind. His marriage with Princess Irulan, the already settled weight of him becoming the Emperor of the Known Universe, while being the Messiah of many people, was draining every single bit of humanity the young man had. And you were there, watching, trying the best you could to keep him sane, alive. To keep him as, well, himself. And it was an agonizing way to live.
That eyebrow wouldn't lift. His jaw wouldn't clench. No half smile, no silent curiosity. At a certain way, it was killing you too. And, hours before the ceremony of his marriage, you decided to step in.
“Excuse us” the maidens didn't question; not after your months of work and lone moments with the Duke. “Your Highness. I'd like to talk”
No answer, as always. He was sat at his bed, hair combed back, wearing a shirt that was being taken care by the maids. You stop right in front of him, determined. “Don't you give me that dead fish face, my lord. I know you hear me. Talk to me, please”
His eyes find yours slowly, emotionless. That makes your whole being shake with anger and frustration. “Sir. Talk to me” you demand. When he keeps staring at you with those glass eyes, blood burns in your veins, and you snap. “I will not stand here and watch you falling by the strings of a fate you didn't choose”
No reaction.
“For fuck's sake, Moad- Paul!” you yell his name. For the first time, it comes out your lips in a shout. “You are the fucking future Emperor of the New Universe, former Duke of Arrakis, of Polaria, Caladan, and countless other planets we raided days ago!” he wasn't reacting, but listening. His eyes weren't on yours, but down. At your moving angry lips. That could make butterflies on your stomach if you weren't so pissed. “You are the first man to behold the Voice. You are the Lisan al-Gaib, the Harkonning bastard who gave us freedom. You are a living legend, a god, a savior!”
You point towards him, you spit your words. None of them resonating within him, neither within you. No, these weren't the titles he needed. These titles weren't him. “Your Highness. Paul. I...”
How painful it would be to watch such a man fall for the manipulation of forces he himself could dominate. You get on your knees. Taking his cold hands in yours, you lay your forehead at his palms. “You are good. I see goodness in you. I see faith, of a million souls. And I see hope”
As you lift your head, the vibrant blue orbs are fixated on yours. His irises shake, switching from each one of yours. A reaction.
“And I see me”
It was true. You've been thinking about that for days, working it in your mind. “I was born to shine a light on my planet. To bring us recognition, greatness. To be Polaris”
He blinks. Just once. Listening.
“I lived under the shadows of a hundred people's expectations. Literally a hundred. That's our population” you chuckle bittersweetly, tears in your eyes. “And it was heavy. It was twisted, torturing. But I had to do be. If it wasn't me, no one would. And it was hard to not lose myself on it. On who they wanted me to be”
You squeeze his skinny fingers on yours, hoping it would convey your empathy, your deep need to bring that man back to life. You did it for yourself, once. And he deserved a chance.
“Paul,” it cascades down your tongue, your lips. Caressing your teeth with a sour taste. “before all of this, you were someone. You were the son of Leto Atreides and Gesserit Jessica. The boy of Caladan”
The stories were clear. And you had to study them, as Jessica required you and anyone near Paul to. “You were a loved son. The light of your parents, and your family, even if too monotone sometimes”
You get up on your feet slowly, pulling him by his delicate hands, and he follows. You lift your chin to the tall pale Duke, and whisper:
“Become a myth alive, Paul. Conquer the New Universe” your voice shakes, and by the warmth in your eyes, you know you had tears. “But, please, don't let them take Atreides from you”
His eyebrows twitch. You gasp, finally having a reaction. Tears fall freely down your cheeks, and you laugh alone at the way your emotions were overflowing. A hand is lift to the back of your neck, and you don't think straight when your face is against his bony shoulder blade. But you close your eyes, hands at his back, clenching the fabric in it.
He wasn't a friend. Or a companion. But you hug him tight, crying for the lost man whose chin was on top of your head. Whose nose was, now, sunk in your hair.
“The universe will be damned if you get lost” you whisper, voice shivering.
The feeling of his hand running softly in your hair gave you goosebumps. He was certainly not normal, certainly not the Paul Atreides. But he was, at least, conscious.
“The ones unseen are the ones to befriend” his voice is warm, low at the side of your head, reverberating inside your chest. “For in the cold darkness lies the truth of men”
His hand cups the crook of your skull, as he lowers his head to perfectly whisper at your ear:
“Stay with me, unseen one. Help me thread through the shadows surrounding us” it wasn't a command, but it wasn't a suggestion. A whisper to your soul, your beings speaking to each other.
“I will. I will stay with you, Paul Atraides” you whisper against the cloth of his blouse. Well, that was the feeling his believers had. Reverence, hope, submission. You understood it all.
“Thank you” he sighs, sending electricity down your whole body. One of his hands travels up to your cheek, and he looks inside your eyes like a lost, madman. But completely sane, as he whispers:
“I don't think Paul Atreides will exist for long” he admits, melancholy I his tone. “But with your help... Maybe I can have faith in me.”
I watched the movie and I had this sentence in my mind. "Don't let them take Atreides from you". And I had to find a way to put it out.
Please, tell me your thoughts! Every commentary is appreciated.
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Fandoms: The Sandman, The Witcher, JJK, Peaky Blinders, Moon Knight, Batfam, The Boys, Yuri On Ice.
Gender neutral, fem reader, male reader. I'm not writing about specifically queer readers, since I'm a cisgender woman, and feel like it would be a disrespect to the community.
I take any kind of oneshot. Spicy, angst, fluff, violent scenes. Just don't ask me to write smut, or any explicit content. We're SFW here.
Hell yes you can use Taylor Swift songs as prompts! That's kind of the focus of my blog.
If I don't answer your ask, it's because I probably have no clues about how to execute it, or didn't saw it. With that said, feel free to send as many asks as you want! Just please don't repeat them.
My creative process is crazy. I start an oneshot one day, stop writing it, and all of sudden finish a month later. Yeah, I know. But if I answered your ask, it means I'm writing it. Be patient, please! 🙏
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Summary: you only had a glance of Morpheus, and even months by, you never found the right word to describe how you felt when saw him. Another encounter made it clear. The word is; enchanted.
Period drama scenery, gn!reader, my bad attempt at mystery and bored royalty. yes, they dance in a ball
You never saw a man like him.
The pale skin, long dark hair, could be common among the men, but he had something.
His skin wasn't only pale; it was moon-ish. His eyes and hair weren't dark, but indeed, the night sky. He walked like a crow flowing through rainy clouds, voice felt like thunder and a cold breeze.
It took months to think about the right word to describe Morpheus — the way you felt when first put your eyes on him.
“Majesty, you owe me something” his voice reverberates on the walls. It was a long while since you went to the throne room, sitting bored by the side of your father's huge chair. The deep voice made everyone jump, some surprised, some scared.
“Pardon?” the king said under a heavy beard.
“An astonishing ball. Yet, if I recall it well, we had a deal” obviously, such a secret one that none of them were going to mention in a public place. “Complete your part”
As you gave him a side eye, dad's sweat was pretty visible on his temples, face lightened up by close candles. He didn't dare to look away from the mysterious being, yet, he didn't hold the man's deep stare. “Not here. Not now”
“What better time could one find?” steps echoed as approaching slowly, looking like a predator. Like a feline.
“Once we were completely alone, out of the castle. That was the deal” his voice trembled, as one, two feet started climbing stairs to the throne. You never saw your father like this. Vulnerable, terribly scared, shaking. “I swear I-”
“Now.” a command.
For a second, something in the air changed. Oxygen damped, candles burned less brightly, shadows seemed to dance tall on the stone walls. That was the exact moment your brain felt like pure mist and fog. The moment you tried to find one single word to describe; describe what it was, or the way you felt. The word you were looking for ever since that night.
Whatever it was that your father promised to the mysterious man, was delivered five minutes later. And with the same subtleness he came, he went away. The main lesson a royal child has is to never ask when you feel you don't have to. So you did.
Duties and compromises changes, people come and go, skies pouring down and burning sun, tides flowed and the wind went cold and warm. You faced your routine, days passed, an unbearable wait for someone you little by little were forgetting about. His voice faded away from your mind, but that feeling never went away.
What was that feeling?
Which word could describe it?
A doubt that kept knocking on your head. Not a regular question, but one that reverberated through your heart. How could someone you never saw before mark your... Your soul? That's the word? He complicated things. How could the heir of your kingdom forget words and be so easily confused about your own feelings?
Time was your best ally on this. When months helped you to get comfortable with your questions and doubts and feelings, another ball happened — nor the first, nor the last. This afternoon, you didn't made a single effort to dance with your boring courtship suitors, sitting on your high chair, watching people in puffy outfits dancing, only to be surprised by a silhouette.
You never walked so fast before. Rushing through stairs, people that saw you all your life and just had a glance of your face, dancing arms and feet that almost hit you, and cotton and silk waving around, you found him.
Walking with his black coat like a crow flowing through rainy clouds. Hair as dark as the night sky. And...
“That was a long run” voice like thunder and a cold breeze. ”Should I consider my honor to be the cause?”
It all hit you again. The feeling, the un-named one. It made you shiver, heart pump strongly and loud on your ears. Butterflies on your stomach could be mistaken by arrows flying around. Yet, your smile was uncontrollably wide.
“Yes. I mean...” shyness and realization came at the same time. You bowed formally, presenting yourself like you always do so. “... And you are?” you asked, and only that was already not-so-formal.
The man smirks, also bowing down. Gracious, like a dark swan, closing eyes. “I've had many names and titles, your highness”
That wasn't the first time you heard that, and “Which one will you offer me?” was an automatic question.
“Morpheus. Lord” you laughed childishly at the disorder. But, just bowed down again, tilting your head a bit to a side.
“I am plea-”
No. That's not the word. It's not that feeling. You stayed there, head downwards, slowly loosing yourself on thoughts as the torture of last months came back at you.
He understood exactly what you were going through — a god confuses poor humans very often. You only broke out of your insights when realized the man broke the distance, now, mere centimeters away from you.
“No need to be formal, I'm not here as a noble. I'm just here” with no reason or explanation I could tell openly. “So do you, if I'm correct?”
Not that you didn't have tasks on balls, but in some kind of way, that was exactly how you felt the whole afternoon. Just there, like a piece of decoration, observing by not wanting to be there but having to. So you agreed with a sly smile.
The conversation died right there, as the musicians shifted the rhythm to a slow waltz. Wasting no time, a prince approached you with a deep bow. “Would your Highness delight me with this dance?”
You couldn't hide the “no” on your face, even if your arm was mechanically moving to accept. Fortunately, a god knows best, and Morpheus was very eager to make a mortal happy that night. “Beg your pardon, but the first dance will be mine”, the prince had the same puzzled face as you, and both had no time to process as the other man took your hand, leading you towards the middle of the room.
Almost instantly, every couple of dancers made room to the two of you in the middle, a big circle of stars and moon painted on the floor. You both bowed down, and started a well-known choreography. Soon, everyone was dancing again, respecting the circle space.
The slow song gave you time to catch every single detail you could. His eyes, lips, nose, the way his hair was arranged and how he gave you little smiles from time to time.
You have been all your life on this; dancing around with a lot of people on chic balls, but in some kind of way, he made it all... Different.
You were aware of every single spot his hands touched; back, waist, arm and hand, burning with lingering contact. And that feeling came again. The un-named one. Haunting the bottom of your stomach, resurrecting every butterfly, just to kill again. But you were so, so happy — and that was not the right word to describe —, everything was just sparkling and flawless.
“I shall ask forgiveness, your Highness. You didn't looked willing to dance, yet I brought you here” he said softly over the music, looking directly in your eyes.
You couldn't say anything. Now, close enough to pay attention to his face, all you could do was admire. Swirling around was a torture, turning away from him, a nightmare. All you wanted to do was stare. Yet, at one specific turn, you saw your father. Even distant, with a worried and terrified face. So did yours shift too. “I would like an answer about this doubt I have, Lord Morpheus”
“As you wish” he said politely, matching your serious tone.
“What was my father's debt? What was the deal, exactly?”
The man pondered, switching looks between your eyes. “One couldn't tell the king's secrets, your Highness. But I assure our partnership is done for good” and it wasn't a lie.
You raised an eyebrow by the lack of information, so tried one more question. “And what was the thing he gave you?”
“A paper. A statement” he swirled you, the song getting a little bit faster.
“About?” the steps of the dance required you getting further now, having to speak a little louder.
“Property” the man said simply, not minding to fill your curiosity. “A property that is on my possession now”
Something about it made you shiver. The ambient felt colder, even if now you were panting with a faster rhythm. When you got closer again, you asked, “And what did you gave to my father? Money, I assume”
“Money is not something you give, Your Highness. And buying things around isn't my way of action” you could never picture someone speaking so carelessly about finances before, even if so vaguely. “I gave him what he dreamed the most”
“In exchange of a property? How large must it be, I imagine” you laughed, not believing his words. Yet, the man stayed serious, not a single emotion on his face.
As you danced and realized he wouldn't give you any more informations, you tried to lighten the mood. “Are you from across the sea? I didn't saw you around, and I travel a lot on democratic missions”
He smiled, making your whole brain melt for seconds. “I fear I'm not. But I'm not from this piece of earth, either” you would totally agree, as he looked so ethereally beautiful.
“So you live in the clouds?” a joke that at some way didn't felt like one, even if you both chuckled.
“At a certain way, yes” your laugh quickly died, as you realized he was actually serious. Just as when you thought about questioning, the music ended. “Shall I have the gift of your company for a walk, your Highness?”
You would never deny.
Walking side by side, arms crossed, every eye on the room was directed towards the unknown man taking the Heir to the garden. The king's eyes couldn't hide it; he was desperate, for a reason you couldn't picture. Yet, you wouldn't dare to get away from Morpheus. You needed to take the maximum of the time you had with him.
When passing by double doors, the night wasn't cold. No draft swayed the trees, nor the bushes leaves. Flowers scents only could be smelled as you walked by their side, even the most exotic ones didn't filled the air. You two stopped by a small river, far away from the people and noises. Both took some time with the sweet silence; not a sound other than muffled music.
Your arms were touching, that small physical contact alone made you smile like a child. One second or another, you catched his eyes on you. He never tried to drift away or disguise, sometimes even smiling, which made fireworks in your heart. When a little duck started swimming on the lake, and you both laughed at the babies behind her, he took your hand. The smile on your face faded rapidly as serious he was.
“I have to go” Morpheus said lowly, mouth close to your ear as he tilted his head, the deep voice reverberating through your body. “My duty awaits.”
You couldn't help your eyebrows arching, expression almost pained. “Can't you stay for a little bit longer?” you whispered, not knowing the reason.
“I'm sorry, your Highness” he truly seemed like, staring into your soul with his night sky eyes, cold hand squeezing yours. “This won't be our last encounter. I promise the next one will last longer”
You wished to stay with him forever. In that moment, with the shy moonlight on his moon-ish skin, your feelings came all over again. The desire to hold him and never let go took you for a second, only for you to blink and exhale it out. Gathering yourself, with nothing else to say, you took two steps away. He bowed down, a hand on his chest.
“Farewell, Lord Morpheus” you also bowed, closing eyes as to make sure you were strong enough to say these words.
“Enjoy the night, your Highness” he knew you wouldn't. Turning towards a path that wouldn't lead back to the castle, the man started walking.
Watching his back, despair and anxiety started to grow up. Your eyes filled with tears knowing the waiting torture would be back to your days. So, words squeezing your throat, you said loudly; “Morpheus!”
Stopping his pace, he turned to you gracefully. Like a crow flowing through rainy clouds. His face showed no expression, yet, his eyes were expectantly.
“I...”
The feeling. The un-named one. You tried to remember everything you felt with him. He made everything feel like... Like... Magic.
Magic? It was... I was...
As you became more and more anxious, almost freaking out, the man one more time bowed down. This time, so gracefully that you caught yourself hypnotized. “I was enchanted to meet you, your Highness” voice like thunder and a cold breeze.
You froze completely. That's it. That's the word.
Morpheus turned again, a smile on his face as he walked away.
Realization hit you, and everything made sense inside your heart. At the throne room, when your brain was pure mist and fog; “It was enchanting to meet you” the whisper came out delicately from your lips, hanging in the air powerless as your enchanter vanished from your view.
Did Morpheus put a spell on the reader? What did the king gave to him? 👀
Bc of this I've been the whole day with this song on mind. May Oneiros bless us with Speak Now Taylor's Version 🙏
A heart and a reblog helps me a lot! And I totally need your comments, please give me your opinions. I'm always insecure about the way my oneshots turns out.
I have other Morpheus imagines, check'em out on my masterlist. Would you like to be in the taglist of my next Sandman works? Let me know!
Summary: that huge dark cat came to your house every night for two years. Then came in a morning for the first time; showing who he really was, also, for the first time.
Fluff, fluff, fluff
“And I've been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted”
“I'm home!” you said while closing and locking the door skillfully with your arms full of bags. It was late in the night, so, you already knew someone was waiting for you.
After stumbling while taking off your shoes with the back of your feet, you walked towards the kitchen of the tiny apartment. Unpacked your goodies, put it where it should be, then turned around to the living room, hands on your waist. Weird. When you looked in the other rooms and didn't found your friend, instantly got worried.
For two years, a really really big dark cat would show up every night. Sometimes, just when the sun set. Or, after midnight. Indeed, the cat always came to see you. Even if it was for an hour, or until the sun would start rising.
Then, it hits you it might come later. So, unworried, you focused on making dinner and finishing your after-work tasks.
You only went to bed at 1:47am. Head laying heavily on the pillow, you stared at the open window, not even one star visible with the city lights overshadowing them. Eyes closing by themselves, you yawned, taking the blanket to your nose. The cold wind that came from outside reminded you the reason all the windows of your house were open.
It was because of that very first night.
You were crying, heartbroken, nothing more than a crumbled mess on the floor, when a shadow crossed your eyesight. Scared, you jumped, looking around to find whatever it was. Back froze, goosebumps when you felt someone gazing at you. Slowly, terrified, you turned around.
“Holy shit!” you screamed, yellow bright eyes staring at yours. Hand on your chest, feeling it pumping crazily, you let out a gasp when a low meow fills the room. “Oh. Damn. Okay, so... Okay. Jesus Christ”
Brushing hands to wipe away the tears off your face, you got closer to the big feline. There, both sitting on the ground, he was almost as tall as you. “Hey, beauty. You scared me. Are you from the new neighbor? How did you got into my house?”
No, didn't had a collar, nor any sign of owner. Infact, the cat seemed to be in a very good state to be from the streets. “What can I do for you?” you reached out your hand to touch the dark fur.
The animal flinched away from your palm, looking almost offended. You kept your outstretched hand with a puzzled face. “Alright, not the petting type, I got it.” taking your hand back to your lap, you stayed there, staring into those golden eyes.
Indeed, the cat did nothing more that night but to look; watch, you. Even when you went to sleep, the animal sat on the window, observing. Well, at least, the dream you had that night made you don't give a fuck about all the heartbreaks next morning — and the cat wasn't there anymore.
Since then, he — you discovered in a very investigating look — came back. Never hungry, never stinky or dusty. Sometimes, he meowed. Sometimes, not even a purr, which was rare for him to do so. In a year, he became more approachable, specially on your sad days. Laid on your lap, slept with you on the bed, even asked for petting. Apparently, the only thing the cat wanted was attention. And you gladly gave him.
You had pictures with him on your Instagram, and actually made a profile just for him, since your pictures with the huge Maine Coon — that's what race internet stated he was — got so popular. His stories and reels would beat celebrities from time to time. Everyone that came for a sleepover knew him, your relatives considering the cat a part of the family. And you accepted it as truth; the cat was your cat. Even if he never stayed for the day.
The feline became the joy of your nights. Sometimes, he was the only one to calm you down. The way he came at you, gave you nudges and asked for petting the exact time you needed. When you cried all the night with a curled ball of dark fur on your arms. The cat really was one of your best friends at this point.
Too tired, you, unlucky, slept all night. Nightmares, one overlapping other, different types of terrors and fears filling your mind made you wake up, wet on sweat and gasping for air. Quickly and slippery, you got out of bed to throw water on your face. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you tried to calm down.
After getting your breath in a normal rythm, it hits you. Coming back to the bedroom, no sign of the feline. One of your nightmares was about losing him; the cat crying as drunks hits him with baseball bats and iron bars.
Panick strangled your heart when you noticed the sun rising.
He didn't came.
And for a fucked-up week, it was like that. Nightmares all these days, people on social media asking about the cat, you having anxiety crisis everytime you thought about him. Should've put protections on the windows and never let him out. Should've bought a collar. Should've gave him more attention.
On the seventh morning, after taking a long shower to ease your disturbed mind, the face in the mirror wasn't the same from a week ago. Dark pouches under your tired eyes, pale as you could barely stand out in the sun, body almost collapsing with tiredness. Still, you put on your clothes, take care of your hair and heads out of the bedroom.
“Holy shit!”
You reached out for the first thing you saw to defend yourself; a plant vase. Holding it near your head, wide eyes, you shouted. “Who the fuck are you?!”
“Calm down, child” the low voice filled the room. You instantly froze, mind getting slightly numb with what sounded like a command. The man was casually sitting in your couch, with a fond smile. “Some things never change, right?”
Your breath was uneven as you reluctantly spoke, loud but trembling, “I asked who the fuck are you! And how the hell did you got into my house?!”
“The same way as always” he gestured with his dark-haired head towards the window. You instantly heard your tenant's voice saying that it was dangerous to sleep with open windows, even on a high floor.
“Then get out. Now! Or I'll throw this... This plant, and call the cops!” the threat was funny even to you. When he didn't moved, you did, arms swinging to throw the vase. Before you did so, he stood up, making you freeze again.
Damn, he's tall. Too tall. You couldn't fight him even if you wanted to. “I-I said get out!”
He walked towards you, and you stumbled back to your bedroom. The man took the plant off your hands, placing it nearby as he kept trying to get closer. On your reverse pace, you ended up stumbling on your bed, falling sit on the bouncing mattress. With a gasp, you crawled backwards, picking up a pillow.
“Fuck off!” you screamed. Then, on some weird instinct, throw the pillow on the man. He didn't even tried to dodge it, getting hit on the chest. After throwing two more, and not getting a reaction, dispair made you bend your head on a plead. “I have money! It's on the dressers, and on my bag. Take my cards and my phone, my fucking TV, but just please don't touch me!”
Morpheus had to contain a smile. He felt, just a little bit, awful and amused with your reaction. Not as bad as he thought it would be, actually. The idea of turning into a cat right there would fix his sudden approach, yes. But he decided to not do so, the scene being too special for him to throw away.
“I know. You always store your money on your favorite bag. It's the one that your best friend gave you on your birthday. The one when all your friends gathered here for a sleepover” he stated in a soft voce, making all of it sound even more strange. “And you save money on the shoes drawer; because, yes, you have one. Inside your oldest sneakers, the ones from your teenagerhood.”
“Jesus Christ. Where are your cameras? On my phone?” you looked around, searching spots for the possible spies.
“Hey. Look at me” you didn't. “Just look at me, please”
Please? Instinctively, you did. His dark brown eyes turned into a familiar yellow. As scary as it was, you kept staring, trying to remember where you saw that glow.
“I know this is a... Confusing way of revealing myself. Unexpected, to say the least. I should've sent signs or anything else. Forgive me” slowly, he lowered himself, sitting on the bed. You couldn't stop staring at the golden eyes. “You never gave me a name, or tried to put me on a leash. But you cared for me and gave me a safe place anytime I needed”
You had a total of zero clues about what he was talking. Instead, your mind was like a haze, filled with fog and mist.
“Do you realize who am I?” with your empty expression, he knew the answer. “Alright... Guess I'll have to be more clear”
The light on his eyes faded as he looked around the room. He got up, to you like a tower rising to the sky, and went to one of your nightstands. Opening a drawer, he picked a frame, then gave to you with gentle eyes. You took it off his hand, staring at the picture. “My... Cat?” It was your favorite photo. Both of you with Santa hats, in front of your Christmas tree. “What does that mean?”
Morpheus sighed loud, closing his eyes. Then, sat on the bed again. This time, right in front of your curled body against the headboard. His eyes changed to the yellow again, as the light on the room started to fade out. Shadows rose from nowhere, even the sunlight not able to illuminate the room. It all turned cold, scary, a bad feeling rising from your heart to your throat. Suddenly, you wanted to cry.
“You have a curse, my friend. One that has been haunting your family dreams for generations. I've been trying since then to revoke it, with no success. So, filled with remorse, I tried a desperate decision” when a tear escaped from your eyes, something like a ghost appeared in front of his face. The image of a cat; of your cat. “I had to be close, to help you. And this seemed the easier way to. I like to be a cat, anyways”
“What... What are you talking about?”
Then it hits you. The dark room, your tears and sadness, the bright yellow eyes. It all came in a wave, like a lamp and a light switch. You remembered the first night “There you go” he smiled, the darkness fading away, your sadness at the same time.
“If you were my cat... Who are you? What are you?” the question falls into the silence. With his pause, you started to be aware of everything.
His pale skin, perfectly contrasting with the black outfit and dark hair. And... He smelled like the cat. Something like lavender and incense, a perfume that you never imagined someone would give to their pet. Indeed, every single time you feline friend came, he always smelled the same. The man seemed to notice your thoughts, a little smirk on his lips.
“I am Dream of the Endless. Lord Morpheus, even though I had many names, as we saw on my page” every fan of his cat-persona had a different name for him. “To simplify to you, I'm what you call gods. The dreaming is my realm, kingdom, and duty”
“That's why I had nightmares while you weren't here” he approved your quick thought. “Why you disappeared? And why showing yourself now?”
“Good questions” dark eyes came back, and it darts off to his usual sleep space on the bed. “Some things kept me busy. Very important and critical things. I decided to tell you the truth because of them. I might be away for a while”
Your heart twisted. Confusion took your mind once again; were you sad for your cat, or for the man? Weren't them the same person? The same animal? The same... Thing?
“I'll do a trick to keep your nightmares away. It'll probably come back, since it's a very old curse. When it happens, pray for me” you raised an eyebrow. “Exactly. Pray. And remember to pray while dreaming too. I'll come to your aid”
You remembered. When the bad dreams tried to haunt you while with your cat sleeping on top of you, a voice would send them away. A voice that felt like a warm hug, a soothing song, pulling good memories to your mind. And then, that week made you shiver. The awful things that haunted you, not only in the night, but on the day too. When your face expressed the past days terrors, warm hands held yours. It made you jump, staring at him instantly.
“I said I'll come to your aid. Alright?” startled, the only thing you could do was shake your head. “Good. You'll get late to work, won't you?”
Like a bucket of cold water, you remembered. Got up quickly, stumbling on blankets and pillows. When you finally got away from the bed, you paused, thinking on what to do next. “I didn't had breakfast. And... And you? What about you? Are you hungry? Oh, you're a god, right. Um... That's why you never ate the cat food?”
Morpheus only laughed, leaning against the head of the bed. You got even more confused with his casualty. Oh, he's my cat.
“I'm fine, thank you. Now, you should get ahead”
“Yeah, you're right. Okay” organizing your thoughts, you went to the kitchen.
Decided to prepare something quick, while talking on your smartphone, arranging work things and having your morning talk with friends and family. Three people asked about your Maine Coon, and you gave the same answer from the past days. We're taking a break.
“I forgot to mention. I don't know how long I'll be away from you, nor if I'll be able to send news” his voice made you shiver once again. It felt like a cold wind on your back, as his silent steps vibrate on the floor.
“You'll leave me worried? That's unfair, um...” didn't knew how to call him. Morpheus laughed, and only then you sensed the close presence.
“It's okay to call me the way you called as a cat”
“Really? You want me to call you beauty, big boy, panther?” and the list goes on. You both laughed, his laugh way too close to your ears. Only then, you felt arms around your waist.
Time stopped. You paused completely, not even blinking, your food breakfast's smoke rising to your nose as you felt the man's on your shoulder. He's my cat. He's my cat. He's my cat.
“Didn't you? Two years and a half” he mumbled, voice muffled by your shirt. “I must say, I'm grateful for everything. For receiving me, taking care of me, and giving me such special moments to cherish for”
“But...” gathering strength to speak as your face blushes with his closeness, you said lowly. “You were the one taking care of me”
“Indeed. But in the end, you did way much more for me” he squeezed you a little bit, fingers crawling on your clothes just like he used to do as a cat. “I know to you, it might be simple things. But I, as someone who sees dreams of all living things, acknowledge some people wouldn't be that friendly to a stray cat”
Trying to be casual, you started eating as Morpheus spoke, your food turning into something really interesting to focus, so you would get distracted from everything.
“Other than that, these nights we spent together I saw many faces of humanity. Your friends, your family, all of them teaching me a lot. And, with my quiet observation, I assure” he lifted his head, mouth now way too close to your ears. “You're the best one among all of them. The brightest heart and soul”
Your system was panicking crazily. “Brightest than my grandma? She's so cute. So kind” he chuckled, brushing nose against your cheek.
“You would never guess how rotten her heart is. Her past too” at this point, you were barely listening.
It was too, too weird. You could notice he repeated all his costumes as a cat, each little detail mirroring the feline. You could almost hear his purr, a memory in the back of your brain. Still, he was a man. An unknown man, but also, a familiar one. It was and it wasn't the cat. You felt conflicted, and all that was too much to deal with.
“I've got to go. I won't see you tonight, will I?” you turned around, regretting instantly. Morpheus didn't moved away, still holding you close. He was comfortable enough to do so; and wouldn't let that opportunity go away.
“No. Nor tomorrow, or next week. Or month” or year. Dispair almost took over you again, but with a breath, inhaling his scent, you remembered who he was. Not your cat; a god. “I'll try to visit you at the dreaming. But, as I said, call me and I'll aid you”
“Promise?” it scaped from your lips. He smiled, almost, very almost like a kitten. That melted your heart completely.
“I do.”
You had to finish your breakfast with the big man attached to you, quietly observing — just like he always did. Only parting when you had to pick up the last things to get out. When on the door, you looked back at him, standing to watch you leave.
“As soon as you close the door, I'll go away. I'm not one to be here at seven in the morning” you laughed softly. Morpheus tilted his head, looking into your eyes with a smile.
You were thinking the same thing. How as a cat, he would come and rub on your legs, meowing for you to pick him up for a last hug. And so he did. Each step, to you, felt like a thousand miles. When the man closed the distance again, even if your heart skipped a beat, it was... Okay. Hugging him was weird, but not that much. The familiar scent, and the warm of his body paid for everything.
“Stay safe, big boy” a mutual laugh. “How should I think of you while you're away? As a cat?
“For sure. Please, picture me in the weeds” a wild black cat, jumping around. You imagine perfectly. “Before I learned civility”
“We'll have a long talk about the cat life when you return” it sounded almost like an order. He laughed, agreeing.
“A sweet tea in the summer?”
“It's on my agenda”
In the most casual way, you kissed his cheek. He touched your hands, and watched as you closed the door. And, casual, as if everything was happily normal, you headed out of the building. Your cat is a god of dreams.
So, so casual.
I'm kinda disappointed with the way this turned out, but, at least, I can work a lot of other parts, so tell me if you'd read it.
Hope you enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading! I appreciate comments or reblogs, helps a lot to produce. Love ya, see you later 💕
If you'd like to be added to my Morpheus tag list, just lemme know
Summary: by pure instincts, you found a drunk-depressed Arthur. To help your friend and give him any hope, you remembered him you would be his summer sun forever. And yes, he deserves you.
Depressed Arthur, blood, suicide, death and drugs mentioning, my bad attempt to insert some Brummie on my American writing
Gender Neutral reader is married to Finn and has kids
You couldn't sleep. Finn holding your side, was sleeping almost like a baby. In fact, you would always saw him that way. A child in the middle of a bunch of grown-up things.
It didn't matter if it was a lie. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, you got lost in memories. Two little things running through the alleys. Him delivering errands for the creepy Peaky Blinders, and you in the back, just to keep him company.
You really wanted the reason for the insomnia to be nostalgia, but your chest ached, not being able to breath normally. The room was small, dark and too cold, shivers ran through your body and a knot insisted to grow in your throat. Tears wanted to rise your eyes and fall from it, tremors pierced with fear. A feeling that was actually like a ghost. A phantom blanket that hung over the ceiling, haunting you. As if at any moment someone would knock in your door screaming someone's dead.
Fear, worry, and whatever else might be in between, hit you whenever that name haunted your soul:
Arthur Shelby.
All England knew that of the brothers, he was the most emotional one. And everyone in the family knew he wasn't well. Usually, you would ignore any matter that doesn't involve your husband or daughter, but not this time.
Arthur, from the beginning, befriended you. He supported you when others said it was too dangerous to be with them. He kept you close when everything was falling apart, when even Finn pushed you away for protection.
But no one thought of protecting Arthur from his demons, except for one woman And now, she was gone.
Very carefully removed the warm arms around you. A sleepy Finn grumbled, but his eyes didn't even flicker. A smile grew on your lips as you pulled the blanket over him. Yeah, Finn would always be that smart little boy that you admired so much, even though he was a year younger.
Changed clothes into something warm, comfortable enough to run in if need be. A gun in your pocket, quick check on the kids, and soon you were out, facing the cold, snowy, Christmas night.
The sky was a slightly lighter blue, lilac emerging with the sunrise haunting all night beings - be they bats or men. You could see some Christmas decor around, a lot on the gravel street. At that hour, pubs and any businesses were being closed. Probably to open in a few hours.
Wrapped in the overcoat, you hugged yourself, peering through every glass panel of any alcohol establishment.
And between one street or another, you found The Garrison... Lights off, chairs arranged.
Arthur's house was far away. Just imagining having to go there made you shudder. Then, hands in warm gloves, you turned the handle slowly. The "click" sounded too loud for the night. Mainly because it meant it was unlocked.
You entered as quietly as possible, turning the key afterwards. Something in you said it wasn't necessary, but still, you reached for the gun in your pocket. Pointed it towards the faint darkness ahead, only seeing silhouettes of chairs and a Christmas tree. Instincts, shaped after so many dangers with the gang, were racing. Your hearing, in fact, was purely focused on listening for any sound that indicated Arthur would be there. But all it found was the creak of wood under your feet.
Eyes fell down to the floor, and then across it, and noticed a trapdoor. You frowned, and looked around. He had no reason to be there, but you would check anyway.
The little door creaked, torturing all of your instinctively heightened senses. The smell of mold and stale alcohol made you cough. Gathering all your courage, you walked down the rickety stairs. It took a while to get used to the denser darkness of the basement, but your kept the gun up. As you tried to make your brain work, all you saw were barrels, and several bottles of whatever they were.
Until a small noise woke you up. Body jumped for a moment, seconds later thinking it was a mouse.
Then you looked at the floor.
In the center of the room. A man kneeling, his forehead against the cold, stinking ground.
“Arthur?” your voice came out as tight as that sound he made. Walked slowly, pocketing the gun, and knelt beside him. “Arthur? It's me. I am here”.
The back that felt like only bones shuddered when you touched it. You moved your hand slightly as the man cried, sobs disturbing the deafening silence of the basement. You didn't have to ask to know what all the commotion was about.
He had lost his wife to her betrayal, now drowning himself in cocaine for sure. You know he felt useless, that he had lost all hope in this damned world.
“Hey. Look at me. You're getting a terrible allergy with your face on that floor” you shook him lightly, saying kindly. It took a while, but he looked up. Red and puffy and lavender, wet with tears and smeared with dust. “What happened?”
With a handkerchief that you always carry, you tried to clean him. Soon the dry tissue was damp with tears and that dried blood from likely punches. Maybe it wasn't his blood.
“I know. Getting into fights like a good ol' Shelby. ” He didn't seem willing to talk. In fact, his eyes focused on you, listening with attention. In his dilated pupils you knew he was trying to escape his own mind. “What a fine example. I hope your son is just like you when he grows up.”
The joke didn't bring a smile to his injured face. But yes, more tears welled up. Your heart squeezed and twisted. Hugging him, and no matter how much taller he got with years, Arthur would always be small in your arms. Not for your height, but for his fragile side would always come up. You felt the tears on your neck, the sobs were like bumps, but you held him tight, tearing up yourself.
“I do not deserve. I don't deserve to be anyone's inspiration. I don't deserve you, or my nephews, or my child, or anyone.” each word uttered quickly, with desperation and anxiety bouncing on the walls. “I don't deserve the life we have. I don't deserve any of this. I should kill myself”
“Oh, I agree. You really don't deserve to be in this stinking basement. I can hear the rats in that corner” you pointed, and he actually looked towards the noises, only now noticing them. “I told you, Arthur. You have the biggest heart on this motherfucked city. You are the strongest, and the sweetest man I've ever met. Don't dare to think of ending such a beautiful soul”.
He sniffed, brows furrowing, lips trembling like a hurt child. “Really?”
“Yes. I actually wish I married you, not Finn” you said with confidence and a big seductive smile. That made him crack a little.
“No. You were always my little sibling” mumbling, hugged you again, head under your chin. “I don't deserve ya.”
“Yes you do.” you whispered, kissing the top of his dirty hair. Then, with all the energy you had in that nearly-morning, you gave him two taps on the shoulder and spoke loudly. “C'mon mate, let's get out of this shit.”
Arthur didn't knew if he could stand up. But when you, with a pained effort lifted him off the ground with one of his arms around your shoulders, he decided to push himself. He could barely feel the ends of his body, barely think of anything with clarity, overwhelmed by feelings crumbling on his numb brain. So, all the way up the ladders he was crying, and you did spent some good minutes trying to make him climb up.
You both breathed heavily as you got out, Arthur laying down on the floor as you prepared two chairs near a table, and some water. To clean him, and to drink.
“Were the reason of this, the person I hate the most in all Europe?” you suggested while cleaning his face with a wet washcloth in a bucket with soap.
“Linda. Yes.” he mumbled, drinking the glass of water you insisted he should, leaning against the back of the chair. “Fook Linda”.
“Fook Linda” you agreed, concentrated on cleaning his little cuts. “But that's not how ya seemed to feel. Tell me what happened”.
He inhaled, closing eyes. Forearm rested on the table beside, glass on a trembling hand. “A yampy pissed me off in a gully just when I bought my shit. I didn't even had to use it to kill him with my bare fists”
“Normal of you. What next?” indeed, it was normal to Arthur. He clicked his tongue when you ran down the cloth to his neck, making him jump from the warmth of it. “Sorry”
“That man talked 'bout Linda. I don't know how he knew about her, so I got paranoid”
When he took his fourth line of cocaine, Linda's voice came to his mind, making him hit his very own face. When it was over, he hallucinated of everyone around him talking about her. Saying he were weak, a cuck, an ugly motherfucker who couldn't even hold his wife. He freaked out, beating anyone in front of him. And of course people wouldn't just stand still.
He got into a messy fight, falling on mud, docking with more than one drunk, knocking them out one at a time. And when it was over, he got up, sobbing. All he wanted was to hide, cover himself from ghosts. So he went to his very own bar, to drink and mourn his misery.
You stayed silent the whole story, now drying his face. When you both were done, you stayed still, looking at him as he kept his eyes as distant from you as possible, ashamed.
“Arthur, mate. Look at me” he didn't. “Look at me. In my eyes”
Slowly, stubbornly, he did. Blue yes, one surrounded by a purple circle, were filled with tears. It broke your heart to see such a joyful soul like that. There wasn't much you could do, but you knew you would never be able to rest your head, in your comfy pillow, next your dear husband, knowing you left behind the only man in Small Heat that believed, trusted and supported you.
The more time you took to say anything, the more anxious he got. So, he started crying while insistently staring into your eyes. That broke your heart and soul in a thousand pieces.
“Ay, there's no need to cry. We all get in our feelings from time to time” both hands on his face, you teared up, voice getting embargoed with the crying you held back. “That slut fucked up your heart. And even if I think she doesn't deserve none of your tears, it's normal to be sad and angry. You're going through a hard phase”
He sobbed, crying more and more as you talked. You yourself couldn't hold back some tears, completely shaken by seeing your best friend that way for such an awful person — yes, you never really liked Linda, and never tried to see things by her side. Who cares about her side? you shoot to Lizzie once. Fook Linda.
“It's okay to do some shit. Your brother, your comrades, everyone uses their own special drug to deal with the past. Even I snow sometimes, you know that.” he laughed as he remembered the first time you smelled cocaine, coughing and seeing gnomes on the ceiling. “I know it's difficult to trust, but you don't have to face all of this alone. Your brothers might be busy, but...”
You stopped to take a breath, trying your best to not fall completely in tears. Arthur was nothing more than his crying at this point, sobbing so hard his body shake. Pulling your chair as close to his as possible, facing forward, your took his thin, calloused hands. “I might be married, and have children, and a job, but I'm still the same little kid you looked after. The same brat you hugged when cried by a wound. And the same teen that took you into comforting arms when your father deceived you.”
For a long time it was a delicate subject to him, but now, it cracked a smile beneath the tears. “He made me a bloody fool, didn't he?” mumbling softly, you laughed, agreeing.
“I'm still your friend, Arthur. And I'll always have time for you. Show up in my house whenever you need, call me wherever you are, and I'll go” he held your hands tighter as his face fell down, almost on his knees.
Then, the subject you avoided at all costs. The matter that every Shelby pretended not to be happening right in front of their blue eyes. The true objective of Arthur's destructive behavior.
“You said it yourself. You're the big brother I never had. So don't you dare...” it felt like your voice got stuck in your throat. Saying it out loud would testify it; would make it true. “To keep trying to end your life”.
There it was. The truth.
Arthur would be lying if he denied it — for he accepted it years ago. His messy behavior always had the same fuel; his suicidal thoughts. He couldn't run away from it. Ever since he knew himself as a conscious being, there was that awful, crushing feeling, that took his mind to a dark place impossibly hard to escape. Maybe he was born wrong? With some illness or flaw on the brain? Recalling his very few memories from childhood, when he wasn't a huge dick in the ass, there were no reasons to, but he felt like the world would be a better place without him shitting on it.
Yeah, maybe it was just him.
“Arthur, don't drift away! I'm serious” you scoop the thin face in your hands, staring into tired, teared up blue eyes. “I don't give a fuck about what the hell you think about yourself. But I know I don't want a future without you on it”
You could be a wobbly-crying-fragile-adult, yes. But you said all of that firmly, with determination and pure love in your voice. Arthur didn't looked convinced, closing eyes and trying to argue, instead. “The only thing I'm good at, is beating up some bastards. Otherwise, I'm only giving headaches, my friend. Why should I stay alive?”
“Because you should. Because you have to. You must” insisting, held him even more firmly, now barely able to speak. “I'd fall to pieces on the floor if you weren't around”.
Blonde eyebrows raised, his crackled lips trembling as the crying got intense. “Polly said we're too young to know it gets better. Even you are, ya old bastard” you two laughed off, Arthur not disagreeing.
It took a minute or two for him to think about anything to say that wouldn't make you sad. So, he called you what he did since always. “You were always my summer sun. I'll never be able to do the same”.
“You are my sun too, Arthur. The way ya always helped everyone, and always knows how to make me laugh. That's why I love you so much.” his smile expressed pure happiness by hearing it. He, indeed, forget that he's loved. “So, please, count on me, and don't do anything stupid. I'll be your summer sun forever, but... Forever winter if you go”.
His already broken heart turned into ashes when he saw your face twitching with pain, hurting only by imagining not having him in your life. But the older one couldn't say anything.
“Promise. Pinky promise you won't...” you hesitated as raised your finger, avoiding his eyes. “End your life”.
Arthur took his time. He knew he wouldn't change, and even if he got better with time, he would always fall down again. It wasn't a good life, and he wouldn't be useful for a long time. Yet, even if he was a motherfucker, he couldn't dare to make you a “forever winter” — whatever that meant. So, he took a deep breath, his lungs hurting. After he coughed, he smiled, and raised his hand.
“I promise. So, please, never change” you weren't even hearing him anymore. Jumped on his bony arms, hugging tight, crying on happiness. “Be my summer sun forever”.
You wouldn't dare to change.
When you two walked out The Garrison, it was morning, and the employees waited outside as they saw Arthur Shelby and Finn's partner were inside. Arms crossed tight, you crossed the snow with your best friend. The breakfast was surely one of the most fun and happy ones of your life.
Indeed, you weren't a sun. Arthur was. Constantly burning, shining, destroying itself but warming and taking care of everyone. But that conversation could be postponed — because he was playing monster with the children all around the house.
I had this idea in my mind for some pretty good months, but it was simply too hard to execute. Hope I did it well (I'm not confident I did.
Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs are appreciated, but please give me your opinions 🛐 I need your thoughts to grow up as a writer. Anyways, thanks again. Love ya, and happy holidays 🎄🎄
People admired the orange, yellow, and mesmerizing purple of the sunset. But not Marc.
He remembered when just seeing the star lower and lower on the horizon gave him goosebumps. Panic filled his mind, his heart pounding more than any of his moments with Layla. Now he was nothing more than a ghost of himself, sitting on the ceiling of the apartment he shared with her, just waiting for the moon to rise.
Khonshu didn't need to say anything. He knew his Avatar was fully aware of his duties. Of his debt. And, well, as long as he could, Spector just stared into the void, in an unbearable wait even for the expressionless man.
There was no longer a watch on his wrist. Not only because he didn't need to count the hours, since at that point they were branded in his being; in a mechanical habit of just looking at the sky to know when he should leave the house. But also for no longer having the audacity to use that gift from Layla with the disturbing ticking that accompanied the too-slow clock. The annoying little noise helped to interrupt, sometimes intensify, the frantic thoughts of his half hour “pre-mission”, which slipped between pools of blood, laughter of his fiancée, his past and his future.
The blood. Oh, the blood.
How many flashes, how many tremors did he had when remembering the blood on his hands? No, it was nothing new. Before Khonshu, he was already a murderer.
And that was an incessant topic. “At least before I was paid” or “now I fight for a noble cause”?
He did not feel worthy of any nobility. No, Marc Spector didn't have any good in him; be it good intentions, positive emotions or happy memories.
He had no right to any of that.
Maybe Steven had. Yep, that anxious, hyperactive, upbeat, always-stepped little guy deserved all the beauty in the world.
And Layla. Yes, Layla was worthy of everything Steven was, and maybe more. But Layla didn't deserve to be with a man so... so...
Cruel? Empty? Fucked up? He didn't know which one to choose.
It wasn't a lie that with his partner he felt as alive as he allowed himself to feel. But what to think when he knew that at his wedding he would face a huge bony bird at the back of his bride?
What to do when he knew Layla didn't deserve to spend the rest of her life with some weird, white-dressed anti-hero who kills so many people every single night? Even without the title of Moon Knight he knew he would still be a motherfucking assassin. No therapy in the world was going to erase the guilt he carried over his brother's death. Gods, Layla didn't even know that. Not even Steven. What if Steven found out? What if Layla found out? What if the two found out? What if the world knew that Marc Spector was always destined to be a killer? It was better to have continued alone. Secrets from him would die with him. But he loved Layla. But she didn't deserve it, what if she found out, what if...
To escape. He wanted to get away from there. But how to deal with parting? No, he couldn't see Layla cry. He couldn't make her cry. By all the gods, how fucked would he be if he were the reason the only person he loved on the entire planet was sad? That same person didn't deserve to have children with such a shitty man.
Layla wants to have kids? We already talked about this? How could we even think about it? No, Marc Spector cannot have children. Imagine, children sleeping while the father murders and exterminates and annihilates?
Layla should be a mother. No, Marc couldn't deprive himself of that just because he had a terrible life.
But how? What if Khonshu used the children? What if they had to inherit their father's suit? What if he never got rid of his duty? What if he had to live through this endless hell he'd gotten himself into by denying his death?
Yeah, they always said that when the time comes, you have to accept it. Everything always has a price. And Marc knew he would pay for it for a long, long time. Would Khonshu let him die again?
No, he couldn't die. And Layla?
But... What if leaving her is worse than dying? What if the two things are the same thing?
He couldn't do this to her. So what could he do? Keep beating yourself up and thinking he should be far, far away from her?
How Marc regretted it. He should never have approached her. Damn his late father-in-law for dying. Now, sweet Layla was doomed to an schizophrenic sociopath. And the sociopath didn't know what to do.
He would never have an answer to all his questions. But of one thing he was sure; the moon was almost at that particular spot. And with it, his duties knocked at the door.
He opened his arms, head falling back. A vein popped in his neck, grinding his teeth lightly as he felt the power of Khonshu wrap around and shiver within his body. The sashes and every layer of the impeccably white suit smelled like death. But it carried something good. With it, he would forget all the incessant questions. With it, all those voices and sweat and the will to flee or die disappeared.
Only one thing remained in Marc: his duty.
Kill, kill, and kill.
It was okay. All was well as he vaulted buildings in pursuit of Khonshu's countless vendettas. That was okay, because during the night, he didn't care about anything but hunting and scavenging.
If for some the dawn is a symbol of security, of peace, for Marc Spector it was a sign that he was going back to hell.
This was an experimental writing that I did a long time ago, and decided to post here. Not exactly a fanfic, so didn't posted as it. Hope you enjoyed it, and that I did portrayed Marc well. Sorry for any grammar, English isn't my first language, I'm self-taught.
Hey maggots (?) it’s almost December unfortunately so this will be one of my last fic recs of the year. I’ve really enjoyed sharing a range of fics from some of my favourite creators as well as exploring a bunch of ‘newer’ creators on this platform. I just want to say a huge thanks to everyone, I know fanfiction is not necessarily life changing but for me personally it makes me feel a hell of a lot less lonely.
Anyone who writes I hope you realise how much your work means to people like me, who use it as an escape as well as inspiration. I highly recommended checking out my other fic rec lists which you can find here, they all include a range of writers who are amazing and deserve all the love and attention. Fic recs can also be found under #pbsbookshelf
I’m hoping to release a December list however, this is a tough time for me so I can’t promise anything. I’m planning on returning though so please don’t give up on me yet. I wish everyone an amazing holiday season wether you celebrate Christmas or not, rest well and relax :))
Ps. I know this list is significantly shorter than my past ones but as I mentioned this time of year is difficult for me so I haven’t been able to read as much as I usually do, sorry.
[Please respect writers terms, I am not responsible for what kind of content you consume but please be aware that minors will be blocked if they chose to interact with 18+ content.]
-x
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚｡˚ ⋆ -- 𝖦𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖱𝗂𝗏𝗂𝖺 -- ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Still here by @mandos-things
Atonement by @daydreaming-in-letters
Feel your touch by @sunflowersteves
Illicit affairs by @ladyclwriter
I never realised how much I needed you by @seidenbros
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚｡˚ ⋆ -- 𝖤𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝖬𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗇 -- ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Secret admirer by @jadeylovesmarvelxo
Affection by @ashwhowrites
Now or never by @subparwritersuperbreblogger
All that love ever taught me by @robiin-buckley
She’s so pretty that you’re lost in the stars by @inkheartedwanderer
Hold me like I’m more than just a friend by @heartthrobinsficrecs
Gentle persuasion (series!) by @copycatkillerfics
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚｡˚ ⋆ -- 𝖲𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗍𝗈𝗇 -- ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Help me understand by @frostandflamesfanfic
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚｡˚ ⋆ -- 𝖡𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝖡𝖺𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗌 -- ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
You bring me home by @real-jane
⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚｡˚ ⋆ -- 𝖫𝗈𝗄𝗂 𝖫𝖺𝗎𝖿𝖾𝗒𝗌𝗈𝗇 -- ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆
Take all of me by @five-miles-over
Mirrorball by @writtenfangirl
The river runs deep (series!) by @myoxisbroken
Winter warmers collection by @lokisgoodgirl and a bunch of other amazing creators!
Summary: Geralt, your ex, didn't expected that Jaksier's new fiance was, well, you.
Angst, spicy mentionings, white wolf toxic behavior, Jaskier call's reader "daisy" ( the flower
Not even slightly close to any canon chronological line
He could recall perfectly those days. The sun always seemed to shine brighter when you were by his side, so those memories were all golden to him. Even the blue-ish white snow looked warmer every time he pictured you struggling to take your boots out of it. His smile was always genuine when he lifted you up to Roach, cursing about you could do it alone. Indeed, with you, his smile was always genuine.
Geralt didn't knew if his bard friend actually gave any fake smiles on his life, but he could see you had the very same effect on him. With one puffy arm around your waist, Jaskier laughed in pure joy, proudly showing off his partner while you didn't really looked any shy by his side.
The white wolf froze instantly as soon as you both entered the room. He died a little bit inside — if there was anything alive on him — once the realization hit, holding him where he was, standing far away near a huge marble cornerstone.
Minutes, maybe an hour after you arrived, he noticed you weren't as happy as he thought you were. Yes, you were still as shiny as back in the travelling times. Your smile was as pure as his friend's, and you two seemed like the perfect pair of two little happy canaries. Except for some forced smiles you cracked. Eyes drifting away from time to time, shifting weight from one feet to another. He knew those signs now. You were uncomfortable, maybe bored. And you probably didn't wanted to be there. Still, you laughed at your boyfriend's jokes, and even brought some up.
Geralt felt, for the first time, the weight of his body battling with gravity. He couldn't move his feets, couldn't take his eyes way either. And whatever those feelings inside him were, he was barely dealing with them.
Some bard started singing in another side of the room, Jaskier screaming something about being offended. It took 5 minutes to a duet start, and only then, the Witcher saw your eyes daze towards his. You were laughing at your boyfriend, but without any specific reason, your gaze got pulled into that direction. The whole world seemed to darken and freeze.
You would spot that silvery hair anywhere. The sensation of golden eyes fixated on you, sending shivers down your spine would always be familiar — maybe that's why you've been feeling so uncomfortable and terribly fighting to look at the direction it came. It was an accident. Something inside you guessed it, you knew he was there, even if you fought to believe and accept it. You didn't wanted to look at that specific point, but laughing and swinging with Jaskier, you lost the control of your curious eyes. And you regretted instantly.
As inconsequential and childish your boyfriend could be, he always knew when something was off. He did felt it before, but now he got it straight. “My daisy? Are you alright?”
You couldn't answer. Not when you suddenly forgot how to breath, starting to gasp for air, tearing up with a wolf staring directly into your soul with a grey frown. So you started walking, as fast as you could without calling attention, towards any sight of exit. Opening double doors, you found yourself in a balcony, desperately taking in the winds of the night.
“For fuck's sake, daisy!” he appeared on his puffy clothes, closing the doors behind him, rushing towards your crying self holding at the stone fence. “Are you alright? Anything happened? Did I did something wrong?”
Worried hands took your face gently, turning you to him, so he could search up the answer of his many questions. “Can you talk to me? Can you even breathe? Come on, my daisy, was it Barbara? I know she's a bitch. Was it that bitch?”
“Jaskier!” you exclaimed, silencing him instantly. But he succeeded at stealing a little smile from your lips. “Just... Just give me a moment”.
He held you still, blue eyes filled with worry, eagerly waiting to get the reassurance that no, he didn't did anything wrong. Anyways, some seconds later he walked away, not taking his gaze off you; hanging head with hands on the stone, trying to recover yourself. It took you long minutes to look up, thanking silently the night serene for embracing you. Then you smiled as you realized your favorite bard was there, looking at you all the time, with a puppyish face.
“Feeling better, daisy?” he asked sweetly. You agreed, back of hands wiping face. He didn't knew if he should break the distance, but give you your space seemed better anyways. “We can go home if you feel... Sick”
You felt like it, yes. But his quiet understanding made you own an answer to his questions. So, avoiding blue eyes, you mumbled. “I saw my ex”.
He paused. Blinking, processing and recalling all those stories you told him at your most vulnerable moments. “That one who left you alone in the woods?” shook your head yes. “Oh no. I'm so sorry, my daisy. I would never guess he was from royalty”
“He isn't. But it's not your fault, so don't be sorry” taking a deep breath, you approached his red-cotton dressed body. Arms around him, head under his chin, you inhaled his perfume.
Jaskier was safety. You never, never had that fear of waking up and not seeing him by your side. You never hesitated before saying something, and mostly, you didn't even had to say anything. You were always shining with him, but he never required you to. And he was the one there with you. “I didn't wanted to ruin your party, dandelion”
“You know I'd trade all these peacocks for only two minutes with you”
“No need. You have me forever” meeting gazes, the smiles were as reciprocal as all your feelings. And just when you delicately approached faces to kiss each other, the doors got open.
Shutting your eyes closed, your grip on Jaskier tightened as you desperately kept taking his scent. You knew who was there.
“Gods!” your boyfriend almost screamed. “Geralt of Rivia himself! And in fancy boots! But, um, as much as I love meeting old friends, I'm busy right now”
But you tilted your head up, frowned at him with a hint of anger and intrigue. “Friend? He is your friend?”
“A very old one, indeed. What's the matter?” his smile was so pure and innocent that you could barely believe your ears. Then, just because it was necessary, you looked towards the intruder. He looked as shocked as you were. “What? Why do you two look like if you discovered the queen's most nasty secret? Is there something on my- oh.”
The three of you were frozen, taking in whatever the destiny arranged. “Oh. Oh fuck. Oh fucking fuck” he put one of his hands on his forehead, the other one on his waist, taking some steps back.
“What the fuck is happening here?” you asked, even if no one seemed to have the answer.
“This must be witchcraft” you trembled as you heard his low, husky voice. Now, his eyes avoided you.
“No fucking way. You two will tell me what the damn plan you made!”
“I didn't see Geralt in ages!” the bard physicalized the time with a gesture of hands. “I didn't even knew he was still alive. I didn't knew you two knew each other!”
“So do I!” you shot back, a little louder than you wanted. Now you were with a hand on the forehead, turning your back to the two. “For god's sake”
The three of you stood there, no one daring to say anything or move a finger. Indeed, the only one who didn't looked conflicted and full of things to say was the bard. So, he cleaned his throat, crossing arms with the cold breeze.
“Geralt, you... What did you wanted here?” cutting the chat, the blue eyed asked, very low and cautious. He was conflicted, seeing his love and his only one friend there. Even more when he knew your side of the story, and knew the Witcher way much more than he wanted to.
Gold and blue sky met, in a silent short conversation. “I wanted to talk to your partner”.
“We have nothing to talk” you stated instantly.
“Look, I know what I did, but I can explain-”
“No need to. Now get back inside there”, you said it like an order, without even hesitate.
Geralt looked at his friend, looking for any help. Jaskier loved you enough to know he had to interfere. You would never be able to move on from your past relationship without this talk. So, he walked until he was in front of you, and touched your arms, lightly rubbing his thumb. “My daisy. We both know this is for the best. Please, give him a chance”
“Why? Why should I? The facts are facts, and I'm with you now. There is nothing to discuss” you insisted, but Jaskier didn't looked like he would give up.
One hand on your face, he looked into your eyes before kissing you. Gently, slowly caressing your lips with his, making your body warm even with the cold of the night. “Yes, you are with me. Just talk to him, and we're going home. Alright?”
Home. How you fucking wanted to be home. Knowing he was stubborn, and always did anything he said he would, you turned around to face your past. Crossing arms and leaning your body against your boyfriend's, you raise an eyebrow. Geralt took a minute to watch his old friend wrapping arms around his old lover's body, breaking his very own heart a little more.
“A monster was following us. Something you could've never faced, I could've never killed with you by my side” started after cleaning his throat, now staring at you, and only you. “Indeed, I had to battle with things that would use you as a weakness. We would not stay together further”
“So you leave me in the middle of the night, in that creepy fucking forest, full of wolves and moving trees?” there was no way you could pretend you weren't angry.
“I said, a monster was following us. I got away before he attacked, and my plan was to come back after defeating him” turns out I didn't, he wanted to say. “But the battle took me away from the camp, and there were more of them. I finished after dawn, and realized I went too far”.
You pressed yourself more against Jaskier, who held you stronger, noticing your anguish growing. He gave kisses on your cheek, neck, and put his nose in your scented hair.
“You would be gone before I came back. So I took it as a... Fate sign. And moved on”
“Just like that? Like if I was nothing?” oh, how it enraged you. Fighting tears, your voice got as high as it could without becoming a shouting. “Like if we were nothing?!”
“Don't you say things like that. You know damn well what you meant to me” he took one step closer, pointing a finger towards you. You too stepped out, but Jaskier kept you close.
“Guess it wasn't that much, since you just fucking left!” you screamed the last words, involuntary tears in your eyes. “I almost died, Geralt. Those fucking wolves and branches almost took my fucking life!”
“Do you really think I do not feel fucking miserable everyday? Don't you think I feel guilty for loosing you? No, you could never know how I asked for death every night I spent without knowing if you were safe” spitting words, you could see golden eyes shine with tears.
“You could never know how I wanted to kill you for believing that you left me to die”, you whispered.
You fainted, covered by bites and deep cuts and blood. Woke up at an stranger's house, a family of merchants who took care of you. Of course, you had to pay back by working for them for a while. And it was at one of these jobs that you met Jaskier. He was singing “burn, butcher burn”, and even after beating up some men that owed the family you worked for, you couldn't stop laughing at him.
Now you weren't. The pieces clicked together in your head, and you stared at your boyfriend. So the song was about Geralt.
“As much as I want to clear things between us, I don't think none of us wants to fight now” none of us are ready to get rid of our bad bloods, for they are the only thing keeping us apart. “I came here to ask for your forgiveness. I know you are with Jaskier, and I don't plan to be friends or anything. Just, please, forgive me, so I can try to move on like you did”
“You won't stick too long to be friends, anyways” you shot, glancing back at him. “Oh, and I know how much of a shitty friend you are. You and your sharp tongue and cold heart”
“You never complained of my sharp tongue those times” it came out in a growl. He only realized what he said when both you and Jaskier looked deeply offended, his eyes falling to the ground. “I'm sorry”
You crossed arms, feeling one of your boyfriend's hands caressing it. Breathing deeply, you started pondering. Indeed, he had a sharp tongue in all possible meanings. You would never dare to try to be friends, for sometimes, in the middle of the night, you missed him. He felt the same.
With him, you felt at the top of the world. Living dangerously with adventures and heavenly tent fucks, he was your very own crown and a home that never settled down. Now, you were both your own exiles. At least, you had the sweetest man alive by your side. And Jaskier did had a sharp tongue too.
“I know it doesn't bring any good to me to hold a grudge against you, so you can have my forgiveness” you said lowly, a big and bright smile growing on your boyfriend's face, who kissed your cheek, happily.
“It's the right thing, darling. I'm happy for you” indeed, every single time you talked about your ex, he wouldn't stop buzzing about the forgiveness part.
Taking Jaskier's hand, standing by his side, your face was like stone, certain of every word. “Now go, Geralt. I don't want to see you ever again” even if something inside you did wanted to.
“I'll go. I'm leaving by the side door as soon as the musicians start. But” oh no. “Can we talk alone? Thirty seconds”.
“No” you answered instantly. Then you felt Jaskier's hand slipping away from yours, for whatever reason popped on his head.
Despair made your body shiver inside, blood heating no longer just with hate, scared of anything that would come from those “30 seconds” that Jaskier strictly mumbled in a possessive way, before closing the doors.
You froze, but Geralt walked towards you with the most intense glaze ever. He always looked like a predator whenever you turned him on back at those times, and it would always drive you crazy. But now, years after that burning passion, you did felt like he was a wolf. Golden eyes piercing, burning every trace of you. But he didn't stopped too close.
“Daisy. He calls you daisy” whispered on his very own growl way. “I called you love”
“So what?” your voice barely came out, a whisper as you cursed yourself silently for wanting to feel his hands in your body, fighting the urge to touch him. One step closer, he lowered himself, your faces inches away.
You closed your eyes, not because you expected one of your hot, messy kisses. But for you couldn't look at him that close. Jaskier is outside. He trusts me.
“I'm his daisy, and he's my dandelion”
Geralt took a deep breath, warming your ear as he bent down even more. Not daring to move one finger — he knew he didn't had to —, he breathed again, showing your urge for him was reciprocal. At that little second, all your time together came back to your mind. The screams, whether for anger or pleasure. The crying and laughing. The back-to-back battles, the stargazing. Every single moment came back at you, turning your whole self to crumbs. He knew it, for he felt like that too.
“And you are my love” for fuck's sake, you didn't knew his voice could get that low. You shivered, trembled visibly, frowning to control your emotions.
You almost fell to your knees. It was hard to come back to the crowd, having to kiss Jaskier wildly to not cry on his arms, to not regret everything you did all your life, to keep focusing on your healthy and happy relationship. He knew what he was doing, and you both knew it was truth, when he said, before walking away:
“And I will, forever, be your love too”.
I feel like this could've been so much better worked and written. Please tell me your thoughts, my insecurities are eating this whole thing 😁
Anyways, thank you so much for reading. Reblogs are appreciated 💕💕💕 love ya
