@lxvingdeadgxrl || from [ this ]
Sitting up in their bed, Murphy scooted a little closer to her, lithely nosing against her shoulder, lips feather light against her hair. Lord, how he hated that she was plagued with such dark dreams. Of course, after what she went through, he could understand it. There were nights where he was back in the basement of Papa Joe's house, hearing the deafening sound of a gunshot, just before he woke... but Wynter... God, he didn't know how to get those dreams to subside, like he desperately wanted them to.
"Always." He promised her, his fingers ghosting over her form, "No matter w'at, m'love. I will always come for you."













