Darling, I'm a Nightmare Dressed Like a Daydream

Request: Could you do one where it’s Sam and the reader dating and idk maybe she’s feeling down about herself or something but base it off the song “Little Things” by One Direction? That would be awesome P.S. I LOVE your blog :)

Word Count: 839

So… this went a little bit differently. I’ve never done something like this before. Let me know what you think, because I quite enjoyed writing it! Thank you so much, and have a fantastic day<3

Dear Y/N,

I’m not so good with words. I know I’m not as emotionally constipated as my brother, but it doesn’t make big, impassioned speeches any easier. I guess it’s just not my thing. But maybe this is better, because this way, you get to have a copy of these words to read whenever you need to; a reminder that these things are true, even when you can’t believe them for yourself.

The first time I caught you staring in the mirror, tears rolling down your cheeks, I was… surprised. Confused. I didn’t understand (and still don’t) how you could look at your body and see anything but pure, unadulterated perfection. I know I’m biased, but you should be, too.

Y/N, you’re so much more than the lines on your skin or the little bit of pudge on your belly. In fact, I happen to think that it’s the most beautiful thing in the world – because you know what I see when I look at you? I see strength. I see grace. I see a fighter who has sacrificed everything again and again and bears the marks to prove it – and that alone is enough to outweigh any photoshopped, airbrushed stick figure you see on a glossy magazine cover specifically engineered to make women like you feel bad about yourself.

Actually, that’s wrong. There are no women like you. I know for a fact that there’s no woman dumb enough to risk calling herself mine in a room full of demons. I say dumb, I mean brave, if perhaps a little reckless.

Anyhow, that’s off-track. I wanted to use this letter (on questionable motel stationery, sorry about that) to give you a list of things I love, so maybe when you’re making your own list of things you don’t like, you can have this to tip the scale. And if it isn’t enough, come and find me, because I’ll easily give you a thousand more.

I love your hands. They’re smaller and softer and more delicate, and I don’t know how you keep them so beautifully soft when all you seem to do it hold guns and knives and dig graves. The best part? They slip into my own so perfectly, like jigsaw pieces meant to fit together.

I love your eyes, and the skin that wrinkles by the sides of them when you smile. I know what you’re thinking – you’re not getting old. Those lines show that you’ve felt so much joy in your heart and soul that it’s begun to show through on your skin. Is that not pretty incredible?

Your freckles are cute, too. Like an entire galaxy; a universe on your face. And when you spend a bit of time outside, more bloom, like flowers in a meadow. I love mentally joining them up, finding new constellations every time I have the privilege of looking at your face.

I know you’ve had your problems with your image and figure in the past but like I said before, I don’t know why. You’re a woman, Y/N, you have soft curves and gentle slopes; you’re realistic and beautiful. I can carve out a hill over your hip and a valley over your waist, a map of a world I wouldn’t ever want to leave.

But it isn’t just your body that I’m so in love with. Your mind is incredible: you’re easily one of, if not the most intelligent people I know. And I know you think that you’re a little bit weird, but those quirks, it’s what makes you, you. The cup of tea before you go to bed, no matter what time of night we get home. And our little conversations in the night that you’re still asleep for, but I still remember your valiant battles with a squirrel army. And I know you hate the sound of your own voice but I think it’s the sweetest sound in the whole world. And when you’re putting on skinny jeans, that little jump-wiggle thing you do? The single most adorable thing I’ve ever witnessed.

I think what I’m trying to say here is that I love you. I love you and your heart and your soul and your body and everything in between and beyond. And I might not say it enough, but I know for sure that I feel it. And so should you.

But, after all, you wouldn’t be my Y/N if you weren’t a stubborn thing. I’m entirely sure that you’ll disregard this as the ramblings of an obsessed, devoted boyfriend. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. I know you’ll never love yourself like I love you; you’ll never treat yourself right, but I don’t care. I love you enough for the both of us. And I’ll be damned if I ever do anything but treat you like the goddess you are.

Yours forever,

Sam

PS. I’m leaving a chocolate bar with this. Eat it.

PPS. Really.

Admin Note:

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