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sugarmaplewings-fics · 4 years

Text

Baby, You’re Perfect

Pairing: BNHA Boys x reader

Warnings: Weight insecurity, negative body image/icky thoughts, body shaming from relatives, talks about skipping a meal once, general stuff like that. Kirishima’s reader is actively trying to lose weight. Cursing/language throughout (but mostly in Bakugou’s)

Characters: Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari

Author’s Note:

And here we have yet another request that is super old. I’m talking this has been chillin in my inbox for three good months. My sincere apologies, anon. And again, I’m sorry that that had to happen to you. Your grandma has no right to speak to you in that way. You’re making great progress and that’s amazing! Keep going strong, I believe in you. Anyhow, I had a lot of fun doing this request! We all need more chubby y/n on this website.

Yes, it says Hawks but I contacted the anon and we switched it to Denki bc I don’t write for Keigo (and we had a lovely conversation. they’re very nice :D).

Also the first two insults are things that have actually been said/done to me irl (hehe tasty self projection) and the last one in Denki’s is from an episode from Tuca and Birdie (it’s a good show).

Anyway, be nice to people. Respect others and speak to them as equals. We’re all human beings here, trying to get by. We’re also like a month away from 2021, I shouldn’t have to say that >:(

Happy Thanksgiving!

-Sugar

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Bakugou:

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were tired of their faces, tired of their words. You were headed home early, and you would not be sorry.

You didn’t hate your family. They could just be a little . . . difficult sometimes.

At first, it had gone well. You’d arrived at your aunt’s house yesterday for a family gathering and met up with everyone. They’d hugged you and asked you how you were doing. They’d even asked after your pro hero boyfriend, who you had chosen not to bring along for the purpose of spending some quality alone time with your family.

But then it happened; the thing you’d been dreading, the type of comment you’d hoped against all things you wouldn’t hear this time. But there it was.

You were nearly done preparing for lunch, helping to place dishes of food out in the backyard for your family meal. Your aunt was starting to serve people food, and you happened to glance up to see one of your cousins making herself a plate.

“Do you want any more?” your aunt asked your cousin, ready with her ladle.

“No, thank you, I’ve got enough.” Your cousin flipped her long perfect hair over a perfectly narrow shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to get fat like—” her gaze wandered over to you, meeting your eyes pointedly, “—some people.”

You faltered. Had she really just said that? About you? Well, it wasn’t impossible that it would come from her, but seriously? Today?

You swallowed a lump that had started forming in your throat, setting down the new stack of paper plates. Your aunt shot you a pitying glance. Was she even going to say something? Would she call your cousin out on her words?

No. She just moved on. Moved on like you should have. But something about it stuck with you. Your cousin’s words and implications rang through your mind, making you feel sick to your stomach. You shouldn’t let it bother you this much. You were doing better, both with your habits and your confidence. So why did it hurt so bad?

The darker thoughts you’d kept at bay began to come back; you were worthless, you were ugly, you were undeserving. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why was your stomach churning and your hand shaking? Before you knew it, hints of tears began to prick at your eyes.

No.

You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing you this way. But you were no longer interested in staying, any sense of hunger leaving you for sick dread.

Next thing you knew, you had said an early goodbye and put your things in the car, headed back home. Maybe driving wasn’t the best idea, since now you were alone with your thoughts. But crying wasn’t worth it. It was a bad idea, especially since now was the time to focus on the road ahead.

You couldn’t have gotten home sooner, a sense of relief washing over you once you pulled into the driveway. You unlocked your front door, pulling your bags in behind you. You heard movement coming from the kitchen as you set everything down; the sound of the faucet turning off signaling to you that Katsuki had heard you come in.

Heaving a sigh, you tried to chase the negative thoughts from your head. They shouldn’t be there, and it wasn’t something to dwell on. You were home again, and you wouldn’t have to deal with your family for another few months at least.

Bakugou’s head peeked out from around the doorframe, double checking that it was you who had walked in. “What are you doing here?” he called, ducking back to whatever he’d been doing in the kitchen.

“Hello to you too.” You tried to keep the tartness out of your voice, but some of it must have crept back in. The sounds from the other room stopped again, and the house went eerily quiet. Huffing, you dragged your luggage into your shared bedroom.

You felt drained, that was the only way to describe it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hang your clothes in the closet. Giving up, you laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. You couldn’t help but hear your cousin’s words ringing over and over in your head, reminding you of the countless years of both internal and external torment you’d gone through regarding your weight.

The sound of footsteps in the doorway made you glance down, registering a spiky blond head of hair approaching you on the bed. You said nothing as the mattress dipped next to you, indicating that Bakugou had come up on your side.

The two of you were silent together for a long moment, and a stolen glance told you that Katsuki was mirroring you with his head resting on his arms as he stared at the blank ceiling.

“Are you going to tell me what’s got you in this mood?” he finally asked.

You sighed. “My cousin can just be a pain sometimes.”

“She the one you were telling me about or is it someone else?”

“Same girl.”

“Hmm.” Bakugou continued to keep his eyes trained solely up above. “What did she do this time?”

“Called me fat.” You tried to keep your voice even. You were simply stating a fact. It shouldn’t bother you like this, right? Even so, the tears you’d been forcing back once again rushed to your eyes, causing your tone to pitch. You swallowed them down again, blinking rapidly. This wasn’t something to spend time crying over.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Katsuki said, a little unhelpfully. “I don’t want to see you hating yourself.”

You frowned at this. “I don’t hate myself,” you said, thinking about your words for a moment before you spoke them. “I don’t hate my body. It’s just that . . . sometimes I wish it looked a little better, a little different. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m enough as I am.”

“Don’t tell me you think you’d be happier looking like everyone else.” Bakugou’s gaze had shifted from a blank one to a glare.

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “It’s just . . . hard sometimes. Being like this.”

Finally Bakugou rolled to face you, taking one of your hands in his. “I know you . . . struggle with your self-image or whatever, but you can’t let it take over your life, got it? You can’t just waste it worrying about what everyone thinks of you. You’re never going to be able to please everyone, but if they’ve got a problem with you, then they can go fuck themselves. You want to know the one person’s opinion who matters most? Yours. You have to be the one who’s taking care of yourself.” Katsuki paused for a moment, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers as he considered his words.

“You want to know who’s opinion is the second most important?” he continued, his voice starting to get a little more mumbly. “Mine. I picked you because I love you. I love everything about you, from your shitty, annoying personality to your gorgeous body. You are so much more than just ‘enough’ for me, so don’t go worrying about that. You’re everything to me, and you know that, right? I love you no matter what, so don’t let this ruin your whole day.” He kissed your knuckles, signaling that he had said his peace.

You smiled at him, a tear or two finally sneaking past your defenses. “How—how do you do that?”

“What?”

“Sometimes you say something horribly stupid and I swear I hate you, and then next thing I know, you’re telling me everything I need to hear.”

“Tch, I can be eloquent whenever I want. It’s a choice.”

“Alright.” You rolled over so you could properly face him. “Can I have a hug?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but nevertheless held open his arms. You happily snuggled into the hard, built muscle enveloping you, offering a beautiful contrast to your own soft body.

“Do you need me to talk to your cousin?” Bakugou asked. “I’ll do it.”

“Nah, let her go.” You nuzzled your nose into his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

______________

Kirishima:

You honestly expected your family to last longer when it came to keeping from upsetting you. Nevertheless, maybe you were being a little too optimistic. But come on, did they have to ruin everything the literal second you walked through the door?

Even after the scathing comment, followed by a half-hearted, hasty brushing off, you forced yourself to spend time with them. It wasn’t often that you got to see this half of your family, so you decided to ignore it with the rest of them.

But as you sat on the couch sipping tea, you were unable to focus on the light conversation buzzing around you. The event that happened mere minutes before played over again in your mind, causing you to wince.

You’d walked into the house, prepared to greet everyone and have a nice time, when your aunt looked up from her position on her arm chair. “Hello, (Y/N),” she’d begun. “Ah, look, you’re still fat.”

Your heart had almost literally stopped beating in your chest as you froze in the threshold. Had she just said what you thought you heard? You must have been mistaken, right?

Any positive anticipation you’d had of seeing your relatives had plummeted to your feet, and you strongly considered turning around in place and leaving without another word.

But you couldn’t do that, of course not. Then your aunt had begun to babble something about how it made you look cute like a baby, but her words had already done their damage.

You tolerated the rest of your afternoon with them, but it was a great relief to you when you were finally able to leave and go home. As soon as you pulled into your driveway, you exhaled a sigh of relief. It was over with, and it hadn’t been that bad.

Eijirou wasn’t home, but you knew he wouldn’t be long after you. You went about making dinner, knowing he’d appreciate it once he got home. He was always so tired these days.

Even so, as you stirred broth in a pot, your aunt’s words rang in your head. You vaguely remembered telling her about your weight loss a month ago. You figured you’d been making considerable progress, and you knew that no one was more proud of you than Eijirou himself. But had it really made a difference?

After a moment of fretting, you turned off the stove. You walked into your shared bedroom, flicking on the light. Your eyes caught sight of your reflection in the mirror. You frowned, going up to it. Turning your body this way and that, you tried to see if you recognized a change in your appearance. You lifted your shirt, only to wince at yourself and tug it back down. You pinched at your arms, your thighs, and your cheeks, growing almost angry at the way your fingers sunk into the flesh.

Maybe you hadn’t been making as much progress as you’d thought. Or the progress you had made wasn’t enough. Without you even realizing it, your mind began to toy with ways to speed things up. Guiltily, you found yourself wondering if Eijirou would notice if you just skipped dinner that night.

You shook your head to clear away the intrusive idea. No, that wouldn’t solve anything. Eijirou had told you that he’d help you lose weight the right way, so you’d stay healthy and be able to keep it off. It would be best to listen to him.

Still, you found your eyes glued to your reflection. You wouldn’t consider yourself vain, but there was something in the way that your eyes traced over your curves, wondering just how they might look on you if only you were a little smaller . . . .

Movement behind you in the mirror caught your eye, and you were quick to recognize a head of spiky red hair. You must not have heard Kirishima come in through the front door.

“Hello,” you said with less cheer than usual.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you, coming up from behind to give you a hug.

You leaned back into his chest as you both stared at each other’s reflections.

“Checking out my perfect girlfriend?” he teased, referring to how your eyes continued to trace down your body. “That’s my job, you know.”

You snorted, gently rubbing at his forearm.

“So how was your family?”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

“I saw you left something on the stove. Are you doing okay?”

Oh, Kirishima. How did he do it?

You shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really have a good time there. Got a little upset is all.”

Eijirou frowned. “What happened?”

You took one of his hands in yours and began to play with his fingers, now determined to keep your eyes from catching another glimpse of yourself. “My aunt told me I was fat.”

You missed the flash of genuine anger that shot through Kirishima’s eyes. He knew this was something you’d struggled with for a long time. Your aunt had no business making comments like that about your body, especially now.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, deciding to keep himself calm for your sake.

You continued to fiddle with his large hands. “I just worry sometimes that I’m not doing enough,” you mumbled. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m just meant to look like this?” You sniffled, hating the sudden tears that were beginning to fill your eyes.

“Honey . . .” Eijirou spun you around and held you to his chest, running a hand down the back of your head as you finally let the tears slide down your face. You nuzzled into his shirt, appreciating the warm, familiar feeling of it. “Even if you weren’t able to lose more weight, you know I’d still love you, right?” he said in a tender voice. “I’d think you’re beautiful either way.”

He tilted your chin up so he could look into your eyes, giving you one of the most loving gazes you’d ever seen. “And besides, we’re not together because of how you look. I love you for you. I love your personality, and how you always say and do the cutest things.” He bent down for a quick kiss, caressing your cheek as he pulled away. “I love your laugh, and I love looking into your beautiful eyes . . . .” He kissed you again, beginning to gently guide your bodies to the bed at the other wall.

Eijirou laid you down in the center of the mattress, hovering over you as he went in for another kiss. “I love your body too. This body, just the way it is. I love how it feels to hold you at night—” he kissed your neck. “—I love your chest, your butt, your arms, your thighs—” he nuzzled his nose against your face and neck. “—your cute tummy.” He pushed himself up and gazed down at it with such a genuine expression of love, you almost started tearing up again. “The cutest tummy in the world. And I love it because it’s yours.”

With that, he bent down again and lifted up your shirt just enough to give it a little kiss. You couldn’t help but let a giggle slip from your lips, which only made his ruby red eyes dart up to meet yours mischievously.

“You like that? What if I did it . . . again!” He placed a second kiss in a different spot, going for another and then another. You broke out into laughter, the sensation of his lips and nose brushing over your sensitive skin making you squirm in his hold.

Soon, he was laughing himself. He nuzzled into your skin one last time and blew a raspberry against your skin.

“Eiji—!” you began to protest through a laugh.

“What?” He smirked at you, moving up and settling his chin in the valley of your chest.

You smiled right back at him, bringing up your hand to brush the backs of your fingers against his cheek. “I love you.”

Kirishima took hold of your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the backs of your knuckles as he looked into your eyes. “I love you too, baby.” He held your hand in his, getting lost for a moment simply looking at your face.

Eventually he sat up, laying down next to you and pulling you into his chest. “I’m proud of you too,” he told you, tucking your head under his chin. “I know you’re actively making a change for the better, and you’re doing really well. Results won’t happen immediately, you just have to stick with it sometimes.”

You sighed through your nose, taking his hand in yours again. “I know. I just get discouraged sometimes is all.”

“And I’ll just be here to put you back on track. You’ve got this, you know.” He hugged you tight against him, rubbing your back. “Are you hungry?” he finally asked. “I’ll help you make dinner.”

“Sure,” you said, chuckling lightly.

“What? We both have to eat, and you know me. I’m a hungry shark.”

You laughed again, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Well, there’s always more where that came from.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m here for you, okay?”

______________

Kaminari:

If there was one thing Denki hated more than anything, it was seeing you upset.

He could tell something was off the moment you came through the front door. You were too quiet, and that bothered him. When you finally made it up to your shared room, Kaminari was already watching the doorway for you.

He noticed immediately that your eyes were puffy and a little red. Even your posture looked defeated and slumped over.

“Hey, Denks,” you said once you noticed him stretched out on the bed. His heart broke even further when he saw you try for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” Kaminari got up, clearing the space between you so he could put his hands on your shoulders.

“I—I just,” you began to stammer out, feeling the flimsy dam you’d placed behind your eyes begin to falter. “I . . . don’t know if I want to talk about it right now.” You covered your burning face with your palms. “It’s stupid anyway. I shouldn’t let things like that get to me.”

Kaminari frowned, trying to figure out what might have made you so upset. But he wasn’t one to pry when it came to situations like these, and he knew you’d tell him on your own time.

Even so, he led you to where he’d once taken position on the bed, pulling you up with him. He knew that sometimes you simply wanted to be distracted from things, so he decided to do just that. Allowing you to settle in next to him, he picked his controller up from the covers again where he’d set it down.

You noticed he’d been playing Minecraft. You let yourself take a mild interest in his mining session that you caught him in the middle of. You watched him wander through a cave system; placing torches, killing the occasional zombie, and mining out various ores he happened upon.

What you didn’t see was how often he shot you glances, studying your face for any signs of you getting upset again. He saw when you finally took your eyes off his screen, frowning distantly as you twisted the material of the blanket underneath you.

Before he could ask you again what was going on, you opened your mouth to speak. “Do you think this outfit is too much?”

Denki faltered, confused. “No? What do you mean by that? I think you look really pretty.”

You pursed your lips. Clearly that wasn’t the answer you’d wanted. “I just—I don’t know.” You frowned and went back to avoiding his eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what happened today?” Denki asked. A sudden idea struck him. Before you could answer him again, he stood up on the bed and walked over to a shelf you kept just above it. He pulled down a large stuffed Pikachu he’d gotten you a few years ago, and went back to sitting next to you. “Would it be easier to tell him?”

Denki positioned the toy in his lap, grabbing hold of its little arms and letting it go through various motions, starting with a little wave at you.

You couldn’t help but snort at Kaminari’s antics, looking from the plushie to the curious but concerned expression on your boyfriend’s face.

“Your Pikachus are worried about you.” Denki lifted it up higher on his chest, continuing to fidget and wave the arms back and forth in a little dance. “You saw your family today, right? How did that go?”

Your face fell again and you shrugged. “It went well I guess. My grandma just said something dumb and it made me upset.”

Denki frowned, lifting the arms of the Pikachu so its hands were on its pink cheeks. “What did she say?”

You shrugged again. “I was messing around with my cousins and I said I looked like a snacc. And then she said that snacks were probably what made me so fat in the first place.”

Denki’s frown deepened. “That’s not very nice.”

“I don’t think she knew what I was talking about, to be fair. And maybe it’s a little funny. I mean, she’s not wrong.” You rested your chin in your hands, sighing. “It just caught me off guard. It’s a dumb thing to be upset over, like I said—”

“Hey.” Denki met your eyes. “It’s not dumb. You have every right to be upset.” He held his arms open to you. “Come here.”

You sat up, letting him embrace you.

“Do you need me to remind you how beautiful you are and how much I love you?” he asked from next to your ear. “Because I’ll do it.”

He took your shy smile as a yes, letting you settle back as he proceeded to lift up the stuffed yellow toy.

“Are you hearing this, bro?” he addressed it, throwing a serious look on his face. “The most gorgeous person on the planet is sad. We have to do something about it.”

Denki put the Pikachu’s paw on its chin, tapping it for a second before removing it again. “What’s that?” he asked it. “You have an idea?”

He lifted the toy to his ear, pretending to listen to it for a moment as he nodded along. Once he was satisfied, Denki scooched himself even closer to you. He brought Pikachu’s nose up to your cheek and made a kiss sound with his lips. Setting the toy down beside you on the bed, he motioned for you to come sit in his lap.

You obeyed, settling yourself in between his thighs and wrapping your legs around his hips.

“There you go,” he muttered, slotting his nose beside yours as he touched foreheads with you. “I love you and you’re the most important person in my life. You know that, right?” He waited for you to nod before continuing. “And I know that you can feel a little insecure sometimes with how you look. You’ve got bad days, and you have good days. It’s my job to be there for you on these bad days, and you can be there for me when I have mine. I want you to know that you’re so beautiful and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

He connected your lips to his for a long moment, trying to convey all his feelings for you into it. “And don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re less-than. They’re not the kind of person you should be listening to. Trust me when I say that you’re perfect just being you.” Denki wiped a tear trail off your cheek with his thumb, leaning in to kiss the skin there.

“Thanks, Denki,” you said, your voice just above a whisper.

He gave you a soft, caring smile; his fingers still lingering on your cheek. “Is there anything you want to do together to make you feel better? We could watch a movie, we could snuggle, whatever you want.”

You leaned in and hugged him tight. “I love you.”

He hugged you back. “I love you too. You’re my sunshine nugget, and it would take a heck of a lot to ever change that.”

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Taglist: @basicaegyo @fourteenow @iiminibattlehero @katsugay @nabo39 @onepieceask @pyrofanatic @sendhelpimstupid @xoxopam4

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k-s-morgan · 3 years

Note

Hi! This isn’t an ask, but more of a rambling that I deemed too long for the comments, that stems from your post claiming Book of Circus as your favourite Black Butler episodes. and to that I say - YES. Book of Murder is a masterpiece. It houses one of my favourite scenes - the one where Sebastian says: "This wasn't a scenario decided by God or fate, but one decided on by my master, with timing decided by my master. I was killed by the criminal expected by my master, by the Hione who came to torment my master", which really captures the essence of whole 'Ciel vs God' dynamic that's woven into the duration of the show.

Throughout the plot, there are three major instances in which an offering is made to Ciel - offerings of redemption. The first is from Angela - a chance to purify himself and have an afterlife - which he so vehemently rejects in the knowledge that he quite literally *is* his darkness, and therefore refuses to rid himself of it.

The second is comes from Abberline in his death, where in his final words he tells Ciel he has a chance to take back his future. And Ciel has to watch him die with the knowledge that he has already made up his mind about his fate. I don't think he's so affected because he regrets selling his soul. I don't think he suddenly wants to live, or no longer wishes for revenge. But I believe the reason he is so affected by Abberline's death is because he holds a sentimentality for him that is not dissimilar to the one he feels for Elizabeth. Ciel is cruel, I don't think he regrets the steps he has taken to get to this point, nor the ones he knows he must take in the future. But though he is cruel, I believe he has a sort of fond curiosity for the untainted goodness that characterises those like Abberline and Elizabeth. Like you said before, he feels condescension towards the man perhaps due to the naivety his blind heroism implies, but I think his attachments to him come from an underlying curiosity to see if such goodness can exist in such a corrupted world - a silent hope to be proven wrong in his cynicism. When Abberline dies, that very hope he didn't even know he had gets shattered. It brings about a sort of forced perspective that makes Ciel question himself in ways we haven't seen before.

Abberline's death had been avoidable and it was certainly in vain. Abberline had died for someone who had already made up his mind - someone who had rejected God once before and would do it time and time again as proven in the anime. Ciel is such an interesting character because, although he is dark, he still values the light and makes some sort of effort to preserve it in spite of the contempt he feels for them. It is the thought of dying in vain that seems to bother him so greatly, not death itself. No, Abberline dying isn't enough for him to want to live again, or to even think about throwing away his revenge - that was never in question. But it is enough to extinguish the lingering flicker of hope he had for humanity (despite being so distanced from term himself).

This, combined with the disappointment he feels at Sebastian's actions, causes the existential haze of uncertainty that leads to the third and final offering. And the most surprising thing is that this offering comes from Sebastian himself. He senses the doubt in Ciel and, like every thought the boy experiences, fails to understand it. He mistakes it for him second-guessing his revenge and decides to discontinue their contract. But he isn't angry - that much is clear. Instead, he wishes him to "forget everything and have pleasant dreams", with a rather wistful expression on his face. What this line ends up reading as is a bittersweet goodbye from the demon - an offering for Ciel to let go of his revenge and find happiness in the afterlife with his now soon approaching death. There is almost a strong disappointment in him, but is not resentful of it - Ciel is human and he can't keep expecting him not to be. His offering almost acts as a thank you for the moments of excitement their contract had given his monotone life and I believe that is why he makes it.

He sticks around to see if Ciel accepts his offer, though already expecting him to, and is there to witness the very moment the boy rejects it. Gone is the uncertainty of Abberline's death and the Paris crisis, and Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, returns to him - sharper, colder, more ruthless than ever. Sebastian realises his misjudgement and returns to his side, ready for the final battle. Killing an angel. It's laughably symbolic.

The rejections of God, the evasion of the Hope Diamond's curse (where he even wore two rings as if to taunt the fates), the references in Book of Murder - they all depict this metaphorical sort of battle between Ciel and God. And the ending of Kuroshitsuji II is the depicts how he triumphs over fate, claiming his rightful place as an immortalised creature of Hell.

I know I've gone on a bit of a tangent here in your inbox, but that one quote from Book of Murder is so symbolic to me in the way it sets up the comparison between Ciel and God (in which 'God' represents power over fate).

Before I sign off, though, I just want to make light of the existence of the show's final offering, occurring in the last few minutes of the series. This last offering has nothing too do with God, nothing to do with any complex battle between the Phantomhive and fate, but is much simpler than that. In fact, the final offering of the show comes from Ciel, and he gives it to Sebastian - it's almost poetic, is it not?

"Are you sure you don't want to pull it any tighter?"

In this single, unassuming line, Ciel is asking Sebastian if he wants to kill him, and release himself from the eternal contract they've found themselves in. Such a noble and dignified soul as Ciel would always be sure to make through on his word and, despite the loophole that now extends their contract, he would still be willing to let Sebastian kill him should he wish to do so. The man may no longer be able to take his soul, but the boy can still give the order to kill him and free himself. Ciel's respect for Sebastian is complex and contradictory at times, but what never changes is his willingness to die by his hands and see through to his side of the contract.

“Is it over? The one who plunged me into bottomless darkness… I don’t even know why she did it.”

In the episode where Angela is crushed by the Church, Ciel offers his soul to Sebastian. Even when unsatisfied with the result, his unwavering nobility led him to make good on their deal and fulfil his end of the contract. The earl faced the demon, his expression calm, and with a steady voice said “A promise is a promise. Take it.”

This unwavering dignity and nobility he holds in himself I believe is the reason for this offering and Sebastian's turn to reject it is almost a 'love confession' (as you have brought me to see it) in itself.

As a final sort of note - I just wanted to let you know that, since reading your reply to my comment on TGSTLTH (from a while ago), I brought myself to rewatch Kuroshitsuji II with your interpretation in mind and ended up really enjoying it. You've singlehandedly made me do a complete 180 on a season I previously hated - looks like I had just watched it from the wrong perspective. So, for that, I thank you

Hey! Sorry for getting to your ask just now. I absolutely loved it :D And yes, Book of Murder is a masterpiece - I still remember watching it for the first time. It was late at night, I had to go to bed, everyone was sleeping, but I kept watching because stopping just wasn't an option, I had to know what happened next.

Ciel vs God is such an interesting topic. In some ways, Ciel and Sebastian exist in their own universe where there is no place for anyone else. There is a God aka Ciel and a demon aka Sebastian. And they are both allies and adversaries at the same time - they are tormenting each other and uniting to torment others.

I agree absolutely that Ciel holds a fondness for certain people, with Lizzy and Abberline being a good example. He has a degree of contempt and irritation for them, but they do mean something to him. Ciel's curiosity is a big and detached thing, and this places him on Sebastian's level in such an interesting way because sometimes it's almost like Ciel isn't human himself - humanity intrigues him as if he doesn't belong to it. His fascination with the light just underlines his affinity with the darkness.

I have many thoughts about Ciel's behavior during the days following Abberline's death, and you certainly introduced many excellent points! My general opinion on Ciel's motives is... complicated. I agree that he never felt like really giving up his revenge and trying to live a 'happy' life - he knew it's not for him at that stage already. However, I feel like Abberline's parting words affected him a lot, even if briefly. When Abberline tells him that he can start everything from the beginning, Ciel sounds absolutely heartbroken when he confesses, "I don't have a future." The way he acts later, telling Sebastian to stop and not kill the angel, hesitating, reinforces this idea to me. I think you described it best - Ciel is having an existential crisis. It's not like he suddenly regrets his decisions, but he's temporary unanchored and unsure what he wants and what he should do. Having a dream where Abberline urges him to give up his hatred also seems to affect Ciel, but it's so telling that he wakes up and immediately says, "Sebastian." It's a fascinating arc and I can't wait to explore it.

I love your words about three offerings - so true. And I'm so happy you liked S2 when watching it from a new perspective! I used to be so confused as to why people hated it: it's not perfect, but I thought it was amazing in many ways, especially its bittersweet ending.

#black butler #sebaciel #ciel phantomhive #sebastian michaelis #my fics

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96harmony96 · 3 years

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Chapter 15

Friday found Trey sharing breakfast with Cary and me after an overnighter. As I drank the day’s first cup of coffee, I watched him interact with Cary and I was genuinely thrilled to see the intimate smiles and covert touches they gave one another.

I’d had easy relationships like that and hadn’t appreciated them at the time. They had been comfortable and uncomplicated, but they’d been superficial in a fundamental way, too.

How deep could a love affair get if you didn’t know the darkest recesses of your lover’s soul? That was the dilemma I’d faced with Lauren.

Day 2 After Lauren had begun. I found myself wanting to go to her and apologize for leaving her yet again. I wanted to tell her I was there for her, ready to listen or simply offer silent comfort. But I was too emotionally invested. I got wounded too easily. I was too afraid of rejection. And knowing she wouldn’t let me get too close only intensified that fear. Even if we did figure things out, I’d only tear myself apart trying to live with just the bits and pieces she decided to share with me.

At least my job was going well. The celebratory lunch the executives gave in honor of the agency landing the Kingsman account made me genuinely happy. I felt blessed to work in such a positive environment. But when I heard that Lauren had been invited—although no one expected her to show up—I returned quietly to my desk and focused on work the rest of the afternoon.

I hit the gym on the way home; then picked up some items to make fettuccini alfredo for dinner with crème brulée for dessert—comfort food guaranteed to put me in a carbohydrate coma. I expected sleep to offer me a break from the endless what-ifs my brain was recycling, hopefully long into Saturday morning.

Cary and I ate in the living room with chopsticks, his idea to cheer me up. He said dinner was great, but I couldn’t tell. I snapped out of it when he fell silent, too, and I realized I was being a less than stellar friend.

“When are the Grey Isles’ campaign ads going up?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but get this…” He grinned. “You know how it is with male models—we’re tossed around like condoms at an orgy. It’s tough to stand out from the crowd, unless you’re dating someone famous. Which I’m suddenly reported to be doing since those photos of you and me were plastered everywhere. I’m the side piece of action in your relationship with Lauren Jauregui. You’ve done wonders for making me a hot commodity.”

I laughed. “You didn’t need my help for that.”

“Well, it certainly didn’t hurt. Anyway, they called me back for a couple more shoots. I think they might just use me for more than five minutes.”

“We’ll have to celebrate,” I teased.

“Absolutely. When you’re up for it.”

We ended up hanging out and watching the original Tron. His smartphone rang twenty minutes into the movie and I heard him speaking to his agency. “Sure. I’ll be there in fifteen, tops. I’ll call you when I get there.”

“Got a job?” I asked after he’d hung up.

“Yeah. A model showed up for a night shoot so trashed he’s worthless.” He studied me. “You wanna come?”

I stretched my legs out on the couch. “Nope. I’m good right here.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“All I need is mindless entertainment. Just the thought of getting dressed again exhausts me.” I’d be happy wearing my flannel pajama bottoms and holey old tank top all weekend. As much as I hurt inside, total comfort outside seemed like a necessity. “Don’t worry about me. I know I’ve been a mess lately, but I’ll get it together. Go on and enjoy yourself.”

After Cary rushed out, I paused the movie and went to the kitchen for some wine. I stopped by the breakfast bar, my fingertips gliding over the roses Lauren had sent me the previous weekend. Petals fell to the countertop like tears. I thought about cutting the stems and using the flower food packet that came with the bouquet, but it was pointless hanging on to them. I’d throw the arrangement away tomorrow, the last reminder of my equally doomed relationship.

I’d gotten farther with Lauren in one week than I had with other relationships that lasted two years. I would always love her for that. Maybe I’d always love her, period.

And one day, that might not hurt so badly.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Cary singsonged as he yanked the comforter off of me.

“Ugh. Go away.”

“You’ve got five minutes to get your ass up and in the shower, or the shower’s coming to you.”

Opening one eye, I peeked at him. He was shirtless and wearing baggy pants that barely clung to his hips. As far as wake-up calls went, he was prime. “Why do I have to get up?”

“Because when you’re flat on your back you’re not on your feet.”

“Wow. That was deep, Cary Taylor.”

He crossed his arms and shot me an arch look. “We need to go shopping.”

I buried my face in the pillow. “No.”

“Yes. I seem to remember you saying this was a ‘Sunday garden party’ and ‘rock star gathering’ in the same sentence. What the hell do I wear to something like that?”

“Ah, well. Good point.”

“What are you wearing?”

“I…I don’t know. I was leaning toward the ‘English tea with hat’ look, but now I’m not so sure.”

He gave a brisk nod. “Right. Let’s hit the shops and find something sexy, classy, and cool.”

Growling a token protest, I rolled out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. It was impossible to shower without thinking of Lauren, without picturing her perfect body and remembering the desperate sounds she made when she came in my mouth. Everywhere I looked, Lauren was there. I’d even started hallucinating black Bentley SUVs all around town. I thought I spotted one damn near everywhere I went.

Cary and I had lunch; then we bounced all over the city, hitting the best of the Upper East Side thrift stores and Madison Avenue boutiques before taking a taxi downtown to SoHo. Along the way, Cary had two teenage girls ask for his autograph, which tickled me more than him, I think.

“Told you,” he crowed.

“Told me what?”

“They recognized me from an entertainment news blog. One of the posts about you and Jauregui.”

I snorted. “Glad my love life is working out for someone.”

He was due at another job around three and I went with him, spending a few hours in the studio of a loud and brash photographer. Remembering it was Saturday, I slipped into a far corner and made my weekly call to my dad.

“You still happy in New York?” he asked me above the background noise of dispatch talking over the radio in his cruiser.

“So far so good.” A lie, but the truth helped no one.

His partner said something I didn’t catch. My dad snorted and said, “Hey, Chris insists he saw you on television the other day. Some cable channel, celebrity gossip thing. The guys won’t leave me alone about it.”

I sighed. “Tell them watching those shows is bad for their brain cells.”

“So you’re not dating one of the richest people in America?”

“No. What about your love life?” I asked, quickly diverting. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Nothing serious. Hang on.” He responded to a call on the radio, then said, “Sorry, sweetheart. I have to run. I love you. Miss you like crazy.”

“I miss you, too, Daddy. Be careful.”

“Always. Bye.”

I killed the call and went back to my former spot to wait for Cary to wrap things up. In the lull, my mind tormented me. Where was Lauren now? What was she doing?

Would Monday bring me an inbox full of photos of her with another woman?

____

Sunday afternoon I borrowed Clancy and one of Stanton’s town cars for the drive out to the Vidal estate in Dutchess County. Leaning back in the seat, I looked out the window, absently admiring the serene vista of rolling meadows and green woodlands that stretched to the distant horizon. I realized I was working on Day 4 After Lauren. The pain I’d felt the first few days had turned into a dull throbbing that felt almost like the flu. Every part of my body ached, as if I was going through some sort of physical withdrawal and my throat burned with unshed tears.

“Are you nervous?” Cary asked me.

I glanced at him. “Not really. Lauren won’t be there.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I wouldn’t be going if I thought otherwise. I do have some pride you know.” I watched him drum his fingers on the armrest between our two seats. For all the shopping we’d done yesterday, he’d made only one purchase: a black leather tie. I’d teased him mercilessly about it, he of the perfect fashion sense going with something like that.

He caught me looking at it. “What? You still don’t like my tie? I think it works well with the emo jeans and my lounge lizard jacket.”

“Cary”—my lips quirked—“you can wear anything.”

It was true. Cary could pull any look off, a benefit of having a sculpted rangy body and a face that could make angels weep.

I set my hand over his restless fingers. “Are you nervous?”

“Trey didn’t call last night,” he muttered. “He said he would.”

I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s just one missed call, Cary. I’m sure it doesn’t mean anything serious.”

“He could’ve called this morning,” he argued. “Trey’s not flakey like the others I’ve dated. He wouldn’t have forgotten to call, which means he just doesn’t want to.”

“The rat bastard. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures of you having a great time looking sexy, classy, and cool to torment him with on Monday.”

His mouth twitched. “Ah, the deviousness of the female mind. It’s a shame Jauregui won’t see you today. I think I got a semi when you came out of your room in that dress.”

“Eww!” I smacked his shoulder and mock-glared when he laughed.

The dress had seemed perfect to both of us when we’d found it. It was cut in a classic garden party style—fitted bodice with a knee-length skirt that flared out from the waist. It was even white with flowers. But that’s where the tea-and-crumpets style ended.

The edginess came from the strapless form, the alternating layers of black and crimson satin underskirts that gave it volume, and the black leather flowers that looked like wicked pinwheels. Cary had picked the red Jimmy Choo peep-toe pumps out of my closet and the ruby drop earrings to give it all the finishing touch. We’d decided to leave my hair loose around my shoulders, in case we arrived and learned that hats were required. All in all, I felt pretty and confident.

Clancy drove us through an imposing set of monogrammed gates and turned into a circular driveway, following the direction of a valet. Cary and I got out by the entrance, and he took my arm as my heels sank into blue-gray gravel on the walk to the house.

Upon entering the Vidal’s sprawling Tudor-style mansion, we were warmly greeted by lauren’s family in a receiving line—her mother, stepfather, Christopher, and their sister.

I took in the sight, thinking the Vidal family could only look more perfect if Lauren was lined up with them. Her mother and sister had her coloring, both women boasting the same glossy obsidian hair and thickly-lashed green eyes. They were both beautiful in a finely wrought way.

“Camila!” Lauren’s mother drew me toward her, then air-kissed both of my cheeks. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you. What a gorgeous girl you are! And your dress. I love it.”

“Thank you.”

Her hands brushed over my hair, cupped my face, and then slid down my arms. It was hard for me to bear it, because touching was sometimes an anxiety trigger for me when the person was a stranger. “Your hair, is it naturally brunette?”

“Yes,” I replied, startled and confused by the question. Who asked a question like that of a stranger?

“How fascinating. Well, welcome. I hope you have a wonderful time. We’re so glad you could make it.”

Feeling strangely unsettled, I was grateful when her attention moved to Cary and zeroed in.

“And you must be Cary,” she crooned. “Here I’d been certain my three children were the most attractive in the world. I see I was wrong about that. You are simply divine, young man.”

Cary flashed his megawatt smile. “Ah, I think I’m in love, Mrs. Vidal.”

she laughed with throaty delight. “Please. Call me Elizabeth. Or Lizzie, if you’re brave enough.”

Looking away, I found my hand clasped by Christopher Vidal Senior. In many ways, he reminded me of his son, with his slate green eyes and boyish smile. In others, he was a pleasant surprise. Dressed in khakis, loafers, and a cashmere cardigan, he looked more like a college professor than a music company executive.

“Camila. May I call you Camila?”

“Please do.”

“Call me Chris. It makes it a little easier to distinguish between me and Christopher.” His head tilted to the side as he contemplated me through quirky brass spectacles. “I can see why Lauren is so taken with you. Your eyes are a deep chocolate brown, yet they’re so clear and direct. Quite the most beautiful eyes I think I’ve ever seen, aside from my wife’s.”

I flushed. “Thank you.”

“Is Lauren coming?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” Why didn’t her parents know the answer to that question?

“We always hope.” He gestured at a waiting servant. “Please head back to the gardens and make yourself at home.”

Christopher greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while lauren’s sister Ireland sized me up in a sulky way that only a teenager could pull off. “You’re a brunette,” she said.

Jeez. Was lauren’s preference for light-haired women a damn law or something? “And you’re a very lovely brunette.”

Cary offered me his arm and I accepted it gratefully.

As we walked away, he asked me quietly, “Were they what you expected?”

“Her mom, maybe. Her stepdad, no.” I looked back over my shoulder, taking in the elegant floor-length cream sheath dress that clung to Elizabeth Vidal’s svelte figure. I thought of what little I knew about Lauren’s family. “How does a girl grow up to be a businesswoman who takes over her stepfather’s family business?”

“Jauregui owns shares in Vidal Records?”

“Controlling interest.”

“Hmm. Maybe it was a bailout?” he offered. “A helping hand during a trying time for the music industry?”

“Why not just give him the money?” I wondered.

“Because she’s a shrewd businesswoman?”

With a sharp exhalation, I waved the question away and cleared my mind. I was attending the party for Cary, not Lauren, and I was going to keep that first and foremost in my thoughts.

Once we’d moved outside, we found a large, elaborately decorated marquee erected in the rear garden. Although the day was beautiful enough to stay out in the sun, I found a seat at a circular table covered in white damask instead.

Cary patted my shoulder. “You relax. I’ll network.”

“Go get ’em.”

He moved away, intent on his agenda.

I sipped champagne and chatted with everyone who stopped by to strike up a conversation. There were a lot of recording artists at the party whose work I listened to, and I watched them covertly, a bit starstruck. For all the elegance of the surroundings and the endless number of servants, the overall vibe was casual and relaxed.

I was starting to enjoy myself when someone I’d hoped never to see again stepped out of the house onto the terrace: Magdalene Perez, looking phenomenal in a rose-hued chiffon gown that floated around her knees.

A hand settled on my shoulder and squeezed, setting my heart racing because it reminded me of the night Cary and I had gone to lauren’s club. But the figure that rounded me this time was Christopher.

“Hey, Camila.” He took the chair next to mine and set his elbows on his knees, leaning toward me. “Are you having fun? You’re not mingling much.”

“I’m having a great time.” At least I had been. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming. My parents are stoked you’re here. Me, too, of course.” His grin made me smile, as did his tie, which had cartoon vinyl records all over it. “Are you hungry? The crab cakes are great. Grab one when the tray comes by.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Let me know if you need anything. And save a dance for me.” He winked, and then hopped up and away.

Ireland took his seat, arranging herself with the practiced grace of a finishing school graduate. Her hair fell in a single length to her waist and her beautiful eyes were direct in a way I could appreciate. she looked worldlier than her seventeen years. “Hi.”

“Hello.”

“Where’s Lauren?”

I shrugged at the blunt question. “I’m not sure.”

she nodded sagely. “she’s good at being a loner.”

“Has she always been that way?”

“I guess. she moved out when I was little. Do you love her?”

My breath caught for a second. I released it in a rush and said simply, “Yes.”

“I thought so when I saw that video of you two in Bryant Park.” she bit her lush lower lip. “Is she fun? You know…to hang around with?”

“Oh. Well…” God. Did anyone know Lauren? “I wouldn’t say she’s fun, but she’s never boring.”

The live band began playing “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” and Cary appeared beside me as if by magic. “Time to make me look good, Ginger.”

“I’ll try my best, Fred.” I smiled at Ireland. “Excuse me a minute.”

“Three minutes, forty seconds,” she corrected, displaying some of her family’s expertise in music.

Cary led me onto the empty dance floor and pulled me into a swift foxtrot. It took me a minute to get into it, because I’d been stiff and tight with misery for days. Then the synergy of longtime partners kicked in and we glided across the floor with sweeping steps.

When the singer’s voice faded with the music, we stopped, breathless. We were pleasantly surprised by applause. Cary gave an elegant bow and I held on to his hand for stability as I dipped into a curtsy.

When I lifted my head and straightened, I found Lauren standing in front of me. Startled, I stumbled back a step. she was seriously underdressed in jeans and an untucked white dress shirt that was open at the collar and rolled up at the sleeves, but she was so damn fine she still put every other woman in attendance to shame.

The tremendous yearning I felt at the sight of her overwhelmed me. Distantly I was aware of the band’s singer pulling Cary away, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Lauren, whose wildly green eyes burned into mine.

“What are you doing here?” she snapped, scowling.

I recoiled from her harshness. “Excuse me?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” she grabbed me by the elbow and started hauling me toward the house. “I don’t want you here.”

If she’d spit in my face, it couldn’t have devastated me more. I yanked my arm free of her and walked briskly toward the house with my head held high, praying I could make it to the privacy of the town car and Clancy’s protective watch before the tears started falling.

Behind me, I heard a come-hither female voice call out lauren’s name and I sent up a prayer that the woman would stall her long enough for me to get out without further confrontation.

I thought I just might make it when I passed into the cool interior of the house.

“Camila, wait.”

My shoulders hunched at the sound of Lauren’s voice and I refused to look at her. “Get lost. I can show myself out.”

“I’m not done—”

“I am!” I pivoted to face her. “You don’t get to talk to me that way. Who do you think you are? You think I came here for you? That I was hoping I’d see you and you’d throw me a goddamn scrap or bone…some pathetic acknowledgment of my existence? Maybe I’d be able to harass you into a quick, dirty fuck in a corner somewhere in a pitiful effort to win you back?”

“Shut up, Camila.” Her gaze was scorching hot, her jaw tight and hard. “Listen to me—”

“I’m only here because I was told you wouldn’t be. I’m here for Cary and his career. So you can go back to the party and forget about me all over again. I assure you, when I walk out the door, I’ll be doing the same to you.”

“Shut your damned mouth.” she caught me by the elbows and shook me so hard my teeth snapped together. “Just shut up and let me talk.”

I slapped her hard enough to turn her head. “Don’t touch me.”

With a growl, Lauren hauled me into her and kissed me hard, bruising my lips. Her hand was in my hair, fisting it roughly, holding me in place so I couldn’t turn away. I bit the tongue she thrust aggressively into my mouth, then her lower lip, tasting blood, but she didn’t stop. I shoved at her shoulders with everything I had, but I couldn’t budge her.

Goddamn Stanton! If not for him and my crazy-assed mother, I’d have had a few Krav Maga classes under my belt by now…

Lauren kissed me as if she was starved for the taste of me and my resistance began to melt. she smelled so good, so familiar. Her body felt so perfectly right against mine. My nipples betrayed me, hardening into tight points, and a slow, hot trickle of arousal gathered in my core. My heart thundered in my chest.

God, I wanted her. The craving hadn’t gone away, not even for a minute.

she picked me up. Imprisoned by her tight grip, it was hard to breathe and my head began to spin. When she carried me through a door and kicked it shut behind her, I couldn’t do more than make a feeble sound of protest.

I found myself pressed against a heavy glass door on the other side of a library, lauren’s hard and powerful body subduing my own. Her arm at my waist slid lower, her hand delving beneath my skirts and finding the curves of my butt exposed by my lacy boy shorts underwear. she wrenched my hips hard to her, making me feel how hard she was, how aroused. My sex trembled with want, achingly empty.

All the fight left me. My arms fell to my sides, my palms pressing flat to the glass. I felt the brittle tension drain from her body as I softened in surrender, the pressure of her mouth easing and her kiss turning into a passionate coaxing.

“Camila,” she breathed gruffly. “Don’t fight me. I can’t take it.”

My eyes closed. “Let me go, Lauren.”

she nuzzled her cheek against mine, her breath gusting hard and fast over my ear. “I can’t. I know you’re disgusted by what you saw the other night…what I was doing to myself—”

“Lauren, no!” God. Did she think I left hee because of that? “That’s not why—”

“I’m losing my mind without you.” Her lips were gliding down my neck, her tongue stroking over my racing pulse. she sucked on my skin and pleasure radiated through me. “I can’t think. I can’t work or sleep. My body aches for you. I can make you want me again. Let me try.”

Tears slipped free and ran down my face. They splashed on the upper swell of my breasts and she licked at them, lapping them away.

How would I ever recover if she made love to me again? How would I survive if she didn’t?

“I never stopped wanting you,” I whispered. “I can’t stop. But you hurt me, Lauren. You have the power to hurt me like no one else can.”

Her gaze was stark and confused on my face. “I hurt you? How?”

“You lied to me. You shut me out.” I cupped her face, needing hero to understand this one thing without question. “Your past doesn’t have the power to push me away. Only you can do that, and you did.”

“I didn’t know what to do,” she rasped. “I never wanted you to see me like that…”

“That’s the problem, Lauren. I want to know who you are, the good and the bad, and you want to keep parts of yourself hidden from me. If you don’t open up, we’re going to lose each other down the road and I won’t be able to take it. I’m barely surviving it now. I’ve crawled through the last four days of my life. Another week, a month…It’ll break me to give you up.”

“I can let you in, Camila. I’m trying. But your first response when I screw up is to run away. You do it every time and I can’t stand feeling like any moment I’m going to do or say something wrong and you’re going to bolt.”

Her mouth was tender again as she brushed her lips back and forth over mine. I didn’t argue with her. How could I, when she was right?

“I hoped you’d come back on your own,” she murmured, “but I can’t stay away anymore. I’ll carry you out of here if I have to. Whatever it takes to get you back in the same room with me, talking this out.”

My heart stuttered. “You were hoping I’d come back? I thought…You gave me back my keys. I thought we were over.”

she pulled back, her face set in fierce lines. “We’ll never be over, Camila.”

I looked at her, my heart aching like an open wound at how beautiful she was, how broken and in pain she was—pain I’d caused to some degree.

On tiptoes, I kissed the reddened handprint I’d left on her cheek, clutching her thick silky hair in my hands.

Lauren bent her knees to align our bodies, her breathing harsh and erratic. “I’ll do whatever you want, whatever you need. Anything. Just take me back.”

Maybe I should have been scared by the depth of her need, but I felt the same passionate insanity for her.

Running my hands down her chest in an effort to soothe her trembling, I gave her the hard truth. “We can’t seem to stop making each other miserable. I can’t keep doing this to you and I can’t keep going through these crazy highs and lows. We need help, Lauren. We’re seriously dysfunctional.”

“I saw Dr. Petersen on Friday. He’s going to take me on as a patient, and—if you agree—he’ll take us both on as a couple. I figured if you can trust him, I can try.”

“Dr. Petersen?” I remembered the brief jolt I’d felt at seeing a black Bentley SUV when Clancy pulled away from the doctor’s office. At the time, I’d told myself it was wishful thinking. After all, there were countless black SUVs in New York. “You had me followed.”

Her chest expanded on a deep breath. she didn’t deny it.

I bit back my anger. I could only imagine how terrible it must be for her to be so dependent on something—someone—she couldn’t control. What mattered most at that moment were her willingness to try and the fact that it wasn’t just talk. she’d actually taken steps. “It’s going to be a lot of work, Lauren,” I warned her.

“I’m not afraid of work.” she was touching me restlessly, her hands sliding over my thighs and buttocks as if caressing my bare skin was as necessary to her as breathing. “I’m only afraid of losing you.”

I pressed my cheek to her. We completed each other. Even now, as her hands roamed possessively over me, I felt a thawing in my soul, the desperate relief of being held—finally—by the woman who understood and satisfied my deepest, most intimate desires.

“I need you.” Her mouth was sliding over my cheek and down my throat. “I need to be inside you…”

“No. My God. Not here.” But my protest sounded weak even to my own ears. I wanted her anywhere, anytime, any way…

“It has to be here,” she muttered, dropping to her knees. “It has to be now.”

she chafed my skin ripping the lace of my panties away; then she shoved my skirts to my waist and licked my cleft, her tongue parting my folds to stroke over my throbbing clit.

I gasped and tried to recoil, but there was nowhere to go. Not with the door at my back and a grimly determined Lauren in front, one hand keeping me pinned while the other lifted my left leg over her shoulder, opening me to her ardent mouth.

My head thudded against the glass, heat pulsing through my blood from the point where her tongue was driving me mad. My leg flexed against her back, urging her closer, my hands cupping her head to hold her still as I rocked into her. Feeling the rough satin strands of her hair against my sensitive inner thighs was its own provocation, heightening my awareness of everything around me…

We were in Lauren’s parents’ house, in the midst of a party attended by dozens of famous people, and she was on her knees, growling her hunger as she licked and sucked my slick, aching cleft. she knew just how to get to me, knew what I liked and needed. she had an understanding of my nature that went above and beyond her incredible oral skills. The combination was devastating and addicting.

My body shook, my eyelids heavy from the illicit pleasure. “Lauren…You make me come so hard.”

Her tongue rubbed over and over the clenching entrance to my body, teasing me, making me grind shamelessly into her working mouth. Her hands cupped my bare butt, kneading, urging me onto her tongue as she thrust it inside me. There was reverence in the greedy way she enjoyed me, the unmistakable sense that she worshipped my body, that pleasuring it and taking pleasure from it was as vital to her as the blood in her veins.

“Yes,” I hissed, feeling the orgasm building. I was buzzed by champagne and the heated scent of Lauren’s skin mixed with my own arousal. My breasts strained within the increasingly too-tight confines of my strapless bra, my body trembling on the edge of a desperately needed orgasm. “I’m so close.”

A movement on the far side of the room caught my eye and I froze, my gaze locking with Magdalene’s. she stood just inside the door, halted midstride, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the back of Lauren’s moving head.

But she was either oblivious or too impassioned to care. Her lips circled my clit and her cheeks hallowed. Sucking rhythmically, she massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of her tongue.

Everything tightened viciously, then released in a fiery burst of pleasure.

The orgasm poured through me in a scorching wave. I cried out, pumping my hips mindlessly into her mouth, lost to the primal connection between us. Lauren held me up as my knees weakened, tonguing my quivering flesh until the last tremor faded.

When I opened my eyes again, our audience of one had fled.

Standing in a rush Lauren picked me up and carried me to the couch. she dropped me lengthwise on the cushion; then hauled my hips up to rest on the armrest, arching my spine.

I eyed her up the length of my torso. Why not just fold me over and fuck me from behind?

Then she ripped open her button-fly and pulled her big, beautiful penis out, and I didn’t care how she took me just so long as she did. I whimpered as she shoved into me, my body struggling to accommodate the wonderful fullness I craved. Yanking my hips to meet her powerful thrusts, Lauren battered my tender sex with that brutally thick column of rigid flesh, her gaze dark and possessive, her breath leaving her in primitive grunts every time she hit the end of me.

A trembling moan left me, the friction of her drives stirring my never-sated need to be fucked senseless by her. Only her.

A handful of strokes and her head fell back as she gasped my name, her hips rolling to stir me into a frenzy. “Squeeze me, Camila. Squeeze my dick.”

When I complied, the ragged sound she made was so erotic my sex trembled in appreciation. “Yeah, angel…just like that.”

I tightened around her and she cursed. Her gaze found mine, the stunning green hazed with sexual euphoria. A convulsive shudder wracked her powerful frame, followed by an agonized sound of ecstasy. Her cock jerked inside me, once, twice, and then she was coming long and hard, spurting hotly into the clutching depths of my body.

I didn’t have time to climax again, but it didn’t matter. I watched her with awe and pure female triumph. I could do this to her.

In the moments of orgasm, I owned her as completely as she owned me.

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sagemoderocklee · 5 years

Note

∞ 🌻

as per my last fill of these prompts, im super sorry i left this sitting in my inbox for a million years :( this one isn’t tied to any greater idea i’ve been mulling over, but it did end up longer than anticipated so i’m breaking it up into two parts because it’s taken me much longer than i expected! i’ll try to get the next part out tomorrow! and i’ll probably polish it up and post it to ao3 since it’s so long lol

originally for: PUT A “∞” IN MY ASK BOX AND I’LL SHUFFLE MY MUSIC PLAYER AND GIVE YOU MY FAVORITE LYRIC FROM THE SONG THAT COMES UP.

[ao3 // kofi]

---

song: Sunlight by Hozierlyrics: At last can grant a name/’til buried in a burning flame/is love in its decisive pain, oh my/sunlight, sunlight, sunlight

---

There it was again: warmth suffusing him; an awareness of his heart beating, rapid and uncontained, a wild wind in his chest; his eyes rooted to the shape of the Sun, human and solid, standing before him as a man--not divine, yet wholly and inexplicably empyrean.

It was impious. Not that Gaara was particularly concerned with the superfluous rules of Suna’s religions, but he’d also never had reason before to compare the mundane to the divine.

Considering Rock Lee mundane felt like more of an insult to the gods than comparing one of their own to Rock Lee.

He shook the thought--and all other’s relating to Rock Lee and their accompanied feelings--away, forcing his heart to return to its normal rhythm with practiced ease. “Rock Lee.” He greeted Lee with a faint smile and a small nod, exactly the same way he’d done every visit for the last five years. Lee was not the Sun, he was just a man--an extraordinary man, certainly, but a man.

“Kazekage-sama.” Lee’s radiant smile insisted that Gaara’s summation of Lee was inaccurate--or at the very least lacking. “It is good to see you. I did not expect to see you today.”

“I had some free time.” He hadn’t. Though he was never behind on work, there was always work to do. He’d simply decided to skip it.

“That is excellent news!” Lee’s round eyes closed, his smile broad with his joy.

“I take it your journey was easy,” Gaara said, ignoring Lee’s smile and the warmth that refused to leave his chest. “You made good time.”

“I did!” Lee agreed with a laugh. “There was a sandstorm just past the boarder, but I had no trouble after that. I was hoping to beat my record, but I think I missed it by a hair.”

“You came close,” Gaara confirmed. “If you’d been twenty minutes earlier.”

Lee punched the air, his mouth a determined line. “Then I shall just beat it on my return journey!”

“No self-inflicted punishment for not making it here earlier?”

Lee shook his head, dropping his fist in defeat. “Unfortunately there is no time. Well, I suppose there is--but I would much rather spend it with you!”

There it was again, haunting him, hunting him. That feeling bit at his heels, chasing him down, wearing him out. He wanted to curl a fist into the fabric of his robes and yank his wretched heart from his chest.

“How long before you have to leave?” he asked instead.

“I only have until tomorrow.” Lee’s shoulders had dropped until he looked like a wilting flower, despondent in the midst of a dry season, wanting for rain where there was none.

“Perhaps you can spare more time on your return to Konoha,” Gaara offered.

“Are you sure?” Lee asked, perking up.

“You’re always welcome here.” They’d done this countless times. Gaara could almost predict this particular exchange. Lee never wanted to impose, never wanted to assume, but he always wanted to stay for as long as Gaara would have him.

Gaara would have kept him forever if he could.

The thought--sudden and complete clarity--lodged itself somewhere at the front of his mind, shimmering its truth in front of Gaara, like glass casting rainbows upon a wall.

He kept his expression neutral, flat, quiet, but the realization had inspired a tempest in his mind.

“Do you want to grab lunch?” Lee asked, unaware of Gaara’s turmoil, and continuing to cast radiant smile after radiant smile in Gaara’s direction--mocking him, tormenting him, beckoning him.

“I promised Temari I’d eat lunch at home today.”

Like clockwork, Lee’s smile dimmed, like clouds rolling by to obscure the sun. “Oh, of course. I would hate to interrupt family time.”

“You know you’re welcome to join us. Temari would be insulted if you didn’t stop by, and Ruri will be happy to see you.”

Lee’s smile returned, as if on cue, and his eyes filled with tears. “Ruri-chan! I could not leave without saying hello to her! Is she still teething?”

“Most of her teeth have come in by now,” Gaara said. “There are still some issues, but Temari and Shikamaru manage it well.”

“I would expect nothing less from them!” Lee declared. “Ruri-chan is lucky to have such devoted parents! And such caring uncles,” he added, glancing to Gaara. “Is Kankurou-san around?”

Gaara snorted, shaking his head with amusement. “He should be--along with one of his friends.”

Lee blushed, vibrant and high on his cheeks. “O-oh, I thought he stopped bringing his uh... friends by?”

“He did,” Gaara confirmed. “But he insists this one is serious.”

“How is Temari-san handling that?”

“In stride. I believe she’s hopeful.”

“And you?”

“I don’t have any thoughts on the matter. What Kankurou gets up to in the bedroom isn’t my concern, so long as it doesn’t have any impact on Ruri--and as far as Ruri is concerned, he’s in agreement. I think he’s trying with this one, but I’m not an expert on romance--” His stomach dropped, a knot forming in his chest where his heart should have been. He glanced to Lee’s earnest face, his gaze glued to Gaara as he hung on his every word.

“For Kankurou-san’s sake, I hope he finds someone who truly makes him happy,” Lee said with all the sincerity of a hopeless romantic--which Gaara knew him to be, though he’d never understood it. “Love is a wondrous thing, in all its forms! It would be a shame if he did not find that special someone!”

Gaara couldn’t help wondering, his stomach curdling, if Lee had found that special someone. “A shame indeed,” was all Gaara could think to say.

By the time they reached his home, in the south-west section of Suna, built into the walls of the plateau, Gaara and Lee had fallen silent. To Gaara, it felt heavy with unspoken intention, and he worried that Lee would sense what he’d discovered.

It was an irrational fear--Lee, for all that he was a wonderful man and a skilled shinobi, was not known for his observation skills.

Inside, the smell of simmering meat and fresh fruit filled the air, and the sounds of a babbling toddler echoed from the kitchen. Beside him, Lee sighed, content and sad all at once.

“It smells wonderful,” he said, voice light. “It is always so nice being here.”

“Do I hear Rock Lee?” Temari called.

“Did you hear that, Ruri-chan?” Shikamaru cooed. “Uncle Lee’s here.”

The excited squeal that followed told Gaara that Lee was most likely going to spend lunch with a baby in his lap. He smiled to himself, his own contentment purring like a cat in his chest.

“Ruri-chan!” Lee exclaimed, entering the kitchen, arms thrown wide, just like his smile. “Did you miss me?”

Ruri babbled excitedly, holding her arms up and waving her hands in Lee’s direction. “Iiiii! Iiii!” She hadn’t quiet figured out all her sounds yet, and Lee’s name was only a series of high-pitched shrieks, which never failed to bring tears to his eyes.

Lee scooped her up without a moment’s hesitation, and was met with an enthusiastic, slobbery, open-mouthed kiss to the cheek.

“Careful, she’s got most of her teeth by now.” Shikamaru handed Lee a cloth, smiling up at his daughter from the table. “How was your trip?”

“Excellent!” Lee declared, wiping at the spittle on his cheek. “I almost beat my record!”

“He missed it by twenty minutes,” Gaara added.

“And yet you’ve graced us with your company before a rigorous workout?” Temari asked, the arch notes of her voice belied by the amused smile on her face. “Kankurou’s just finishing up in his workshop--oh, and he has a friend--well, I suppose a girlfriend.”

“Her name’s Kougen,” Shikamaru cut in, coming to his wife’s rescue. “She’s from the Puppet Brigade, so I have to assume he’s serious about her.”

Lee listened intently, bouncing Ruri on his hip while Shikamaru brought him up to speed on Kankurou’s love life, Ruri’s progress (to which Ruri had much to say), and the general happenings in the village. Gaara watched from the other side of the kitchen, his eyes trained on Lee’s expression and his heart in this throat.

“Gaara, can you help me?” Temari asked from the pantry, pulling him from his contemplation of Lee. He forced his gaze away from the smile on Lee’s face, and followed Temari’s voice into the pantry.

“What do you need?”

Temari snorted a laugh. “Nothing. Just saving you from embarrassing yourself.” She held out a jar of preserved lemons, shaking it at him vigorously. “I know Lee’s not the brightest, but he’s not an idiot--you know should know that by now.”

“What are you talking about?” Gaara bit off, heat rising in his face.

Temari thrust the jar of lemons into Gaara’s chest. “Don’t play dumb. First of all, I’m your big sister; second, I am literally your diplomatic liaison.”

Gaara clutched at the jar, staring into Temari’s amused and exasperated expression. “What--what are you talking about?”

Temari’s expression softened, her smile slipping. “Gaara, I know how you feel--”

Gaara stepped closer, his eyes going wide. “I--”

Temari held up a hand, cutting him off. “You don’t have to talk about it, and I’m not judging you. I know it’s...complicated,” she said delicately, “but if you ever want to tell him, I’m here for you.”

Gaara rarely found himself caught off guard or speechless. He swallowed, holding the jar of lemons closer, as if to protect himself as he said, “I...only just realized.”

Temari opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap. “You’re joking.”

Gaara gave her a flat, unamused look.

“Winds damn me for opening my big mouth. Gaara, I’m so sorry. I really thought you knew--I mean, all these years of him coming over--he’s practically family!” she whispered frantically.

“He’s our friend.”

“Yes, he is. But you also stare at him like the Moon herself sent him here,” she said. “I just thought you weren’t ready.”

“I wasn’t,” Gaara said.

“What made you realize?”

Gaara shook his head, closing his eyes at the memory of his treacherous thoughts.

“Never mind,” Temari said, allowing him to keep this for himself. “I’m sorry I even brought it up.” She grabbed another jar of spices, shooing him from the pantry.

“--show coming up,” Kankurou was saying, leaning over the chair Kougen was sitting in, one hand idly playing with a loose strand of her hair.

“I wish I could see it,” Lee said. “It sounds as though the Genin have put quite a lot of effort into it!”

“The kids are great,” Kougen said. “I think this is our best group of Genin in a while. Last year, a lot of the new ones weren’t interested in performing.”

“Kids these days,” Kankurou grumbled, a cheeky grin on his face. “Hey, sis. Hey, Gaara.”

Kougen jumped up suddenly, bowing in greeting. “Kazekage-sama, Temari-sama.”

Behind him, Temari sighed. “Kougen, how many times do we have to tell you that’s not necessary?”

Kougen blushed, returning to her seat. “I’m sorry. Old habits.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, babe,” Kankurou muttered. “Lee still calls Gaara by his title, and they’ve been dancing around each other for years.”

“Kankurou,” Temari snapped, teeth bared. “Help. Me. Cook.”

“What? But it’s not my turn--” Catching the look on Temari’s face, Kankurou’s mouth closed with an audible clack. “Right. Helping.”

At the table, Lee was beet red, staring at a particular spot on the wood, mouth pressed into a thin line. He was so focused, he barely acknowledged Ruri as she tugged on his hair, her tiny hands holding onto the black strands in tight fists.

“So, Lee,” Kougen said, her voice tight as Gaara found a seat at the table. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I mean, everyone in Suna knows who you are, of course, but rumors are so different from actually knowing someone, aren’t they?”

“There are rumors about me?” Lee asked, still looking at the table. Ruri gave a decisive tug that did nothing to make Lee move, though he did finally look up.

“Well, everyone knows about your fight against the Kazekage during the Chuunin exams, and we all know you visit often. You’re a bit of an urban legend. The--oh, what is it they call you in Konoha? The Beast?”

“The Beautiful Blue Beast,” Lee corrected. His gaze slid from Kougen to Gaara, but he quickly looked away when he met Gaara’s gaze.

“That’s right!” she said with a slap to the table. “I try not to listen to rumors too much, but you do have an impressive reputation here.”

The flush in Lee’s cheeks from earlier returned, softer than before, and a pleased smile eased the tight line of his mouth. “Well, I hope it is a positive impression.”

“Absolutely! Any friend of the Kazekage is welcome in Suna,” Kougen declared.

They passed the next thirty minutes with idle chatter while Temari berated Kankurou behind them in hushed tones and finished preparing lunch. Once lunch was served, Ruri was returned to her highchair so Lee could properly eat, though she cried for the first five minutes until Lee scooted closer and offered to feed her.

Kankurou glared at his lunch, mullish over Ruri’s clear favoritism. Though he would never admit it, Kankurou had wanted desperately to be the fun uncle.

By the end of lunch, Gaara knew he’d pushed his luck and was bound to return to his office and an even larger stack of paper work than when he’d first decided to shirk his duties in favor of seeing Lee. He weighed the consequences of pushing his work til later, knowing Lee only had until the morning, but decided against the obviously irresponsible choice.

Lee had hardly looked at him since his return from the pantry, and Gaara was sure that he would have time to see Lee on his way back to Konoha.

“I should return to the office,” Gaara announced, voice low so as not to disturb Ruri, who had passed out in Lee’s arms.

Lee looked up at him, the sunshine in his smile fading like the sun setting beneath the horizon. “Already?”

“Unfortunately,” Gaara confirmed. “I’ll be sure to see you off before you leave.”

“I would like that.”

Gaara held onto the image of Lee smiling up at him for the rest of the night, keeping it close for warmth in the absence of the Sun.

#gaalee #leegaa #gaara #rock lee #shippuden #naruto #otp: the ultimate otp #otp: love is a foreign language i barely understand but when you speak it the words make so much sense #i genuinely don't know what this turned into because i really had no direction #so this ended up kinda aimless lmao #c-loudatlas

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peaceisadirtyword · 6 years

Text

Invisible (Ivar/Reader)

A/N: Hello! I’m sorry for being so absent these days! Seriously uni is killing me, and to make things better, I’m sick😂 so I can barely study or write as I have a constant headache. But I wrote this a few days ago, hoping to post it for my birthday or for Vikings premiere, but I forgot so I'm posting it now... It’s just some idea I had a while ago when I was feeling a bit angsty and it’s probably very bad, but I’m posting it anyway... I want to do two or three more parts and include one of the requests I have for Ivar in my inbox! I hope you like it♥️

Btw I won’t post anything about the new episode until the weekend as I don’t want to spoil anything to anyone, but if someone has already watched it and want to talk about it send me a message! I'm dying to talk about it with someone!

Again, sorry for being so inactive! I have some fics to read and I hope I can answer to your comments and your messages tonight!💕

Warnings: Angst (an attempt), Ivar is an asshole, there are a lot of insecurities for both of them and please don’t let anyone treat you like that in your life. Don’t be like me and the reader.

Words: 3510 I don’t know what’s happening to me these days

gif isn’t mine, it belongs to @bloody-imagines

Kattegat had grown considerably during the years, the trade and the growth in population had enlarged the city. Though when you arrived it was already big, it had grown even more.

There was a lot of people living in Kattegat, and you knew almost all of them.

You had been brought to Kattegat as a slave, after being sold by your father, who had gotten married after your mother's death and whose new wife seemed to have a problem with you living on her house.

Queen Aslaug had bought you, after the slave trader told her you'd been cooking and cleaning for your father for years. She had put you in the kitchen to cook, and then as her personal slave, washing her clothes, making her bed and cleaning her room. She always treated you well, seeing you as the daughter she'd always wanted to have.

Aslaug ended up freeing you, even offering you a small house near the Hall. Somehow, the queen and her family had grown fond of you, and even Floki, who had be the one who taught you the language and the viking culture, seemed to like you.

Your relationship with the sons of the queen had been... Weird. At first, you were scared of them; you were just a little christian girl who had never set her eyes on a man, let alone a viking man. They were big, fierce and you had seen them training on the woods. Their hungry eyes had followed you the first days, while you served dinner or cleaned the hall.

Ubbe had been the kindest to you, smiling softly at you and calling your name with a gentle voice, though his big eyes always roamed over your body whenever you approached him to fill his cup. Hvitserk hadn't been that subtle, biting his lip and reaching to caress your waist and your thighs while you served dinner, his eyes glued to your chest.

Sigurd hadn't paid much attention to you until you had sat next to him on a feast, listening to him playing the oud. He had tried to kiss you after a while, kiss that you had awkwardly avoided, blushing and muttering something about Aslaug calling you.

And Ivar... He seemed to hate you. The first time you saw the terrifying cripple of whom everyone had talked about since you arrived you thought he was the most handsome man you'd ever seen.

His piercing blue eyes had looked at you intensely, making you blush, and his brows had furrowed together while he waited for you to fill his empty cup. It had resulted in you spilling the mead all over him, which had enraged him. Fortunately, Ubbe had intervened before he could hurt you, but since then Ivar had been cruel with you.

When Aslaug freed you, he had argued, saying they needed the thralls and even offered to buy you himself to be his personal slave. The thought hadn't exactly bothered you, as you really liked him, but his cruel smile had hinted you that you would have had a bad time.

He didn't like the fact that you were free and he wasn't able to torment you constantly.

Anyway, and even if you considered yourself pathetic and stupid for it, you kept pining after him. It didn't matter how many times he tortured you, teased you or insulted you, your heart kept beating faster whenever you saw him, and something between your legs turned on when you saw him training with his brothers, working on the forge or even crawling around.

"She's looking at you again" Ubbe smiled teasingly at his little brother, who scowled and kept sharpening his knife, sitting next to the beach and with his back leant onto a rock.

"She's annoying"

"She's hot" Hvitserk smirked softly while looking at you from afar. You were helping Helga to clean the fishes the boys and Floki had captured that morning, but your eyes wandered over Ivar sometimes, and Ubbe had caught you twice now.

"She's really nice" Sigurd glared at his brothers "Ivar does not deserve her attention, Y/N deserves a man, a real viking who can satisfy her and make her happy, who does not torture her and who actually can walk"

"Sigurd" Ubbe glared at him, and even Hvitserk pressed his lips together.

Ivar clenched his jaw, but instead of stabbing his brother, he smirked.

"You're not talking about yourself, are you brother? Because I don't think you can satisfy her or make her happy considering the fact that she rejected you once" he chuckled "You can try and marry her, though, you'd do me a favor"

"Enough, both of you" Ubbe scolded, sighing "I think Y/N is the only one who truly knows how her man should be"

"It's a waste that she only looks at Ivar" Hvitserk groaned "I would happily satisfy her"

"Use one of those tricks that you use with the thralls" Ivar scoffed "She was one of them, so it should work"

"Ivar" Ubbe shook his head "Stop being mean to her"

"I'm not" he replied "I just find her annoying and clingy, I'd love it if she found some other man and let me alone"

"She's the only woman who has ever shown interest in you" Sigurd chuckled "And if you keep being a prick to her, she will be the last"

"I don't want her, she's a christian that thinks that she can now worship our gods and behave like one of us. She's not a viking, she's weak and cannot fight, and she's too small"

"What's wrong with her being small, Ivar?" Hvitserk shrugged "Small or big, she's a woman, her size does not matter when she's under you, with her legs around your waist and moaning as you pound into her" he smirked and Ubbe chuckled, agreeing with his brother "And I could teach her how to fight, you know" he winked at an annoyed Ivar, who blushed when his brother mentioned the sex part.

"I want a viking woman" he repeated "Not her"

"She's coming" Ubbe cleared his throat "Not a word, Ivar"

Helga and you approached the brothers, with a stewpot and some bowls.

"The food is ready" Helga smiled while you left the stewpot on the floor and started filling the bowls before passing them to the boys. Ubbe and Sigurd smiled and thanked you, Hvitserk practically had no time for doing that as he shoved the soup down his throat immediately, and Ivar took the bowl from your hands without even looking at you. While Helga went to give Floki, who was working on a boat, his bowl, you sat down next to Hvitserk who was devouring the soup, smiling at him.

"Do you like it?" You raised a brow and Hvitserk moaned.

"It's amazing" he nodded "Did you make it?"

You nodded, proud of yourself. You had spent almost the entire morning making the soup, knowing that the boys had been training and fishing and would be hungry.

"It's really good, Y/N" Ubbe smiled at you "Thanks"

"You're welcome, I'm glad you..." A sudden noise startled you. Ivar had let the bowl fall on the floor, spilling his content with a disgusted scowl present on his face "Like it" you finished your sentence in a whisper, knowing that he was about to say something hurtful.

"It's the most disgusting thing I've ever eaten" he spat, his eyes sending daggers to you "If you don't know how to cook, then don't do it" you looked away, ashamed and angry at the same time.

"Ivar" Ubbe looked at his brother "What...?"

"If you don't want it, give it to Hvitserk" Sigurd glared at him "But Y/N has spent a good time making this for us, and you should appreciate it"

"I didn't ask her to do it" he shrugged "And if she doesn't know how to make a simple soup, it's not my fault... Now I understand why mother freed her"

You looked at you feet, trying not to cry. It had been an amazing morning. You'd found some flowers at your door that morning, which had made you the happiest person in Kattegat. You had been happy thinking that they could be Ivar's, but his behavior in that moment made it very clear; it definitely hadn't been him.

"Shut up" Ubbe was now angry, one thing was that his brother didn't like you, he could understand that, but humiliating and insulting you was another "You're acting as a spoiled little brat"

"That's what he is" Sigurd shrugged "It's what you become when you've always been mommy's boy"

Ivar gripped his knife, and you looked at him with wide eyes, afraid he'd hurt one of his brothers.

"It's okay" you quickly got up, clearing your throat "Helga is cooking the fish now... Maybe you'll like it more, Ivar" you tried to smile at him, but his annoyed glare mad your smile fade away "I'll tell her to add a few more pieces, so you won't be hungry" you muttered while picking up the empty bowl and walking over Floki's house, trying to swallow your tears.

Helga turned around when she heard you entering the house, but her gentle face furrowed with worry when she saw you trying to dry your tears with your hands.

"Y/N, my dear, what happened?" She hugged you tightly. After her daughter's death, she'd been desperate to have another child, and she immediately felt that motherly feeling towards you, and loved you deeply.

"It's just..." You shook your head, feeling stupid "Nothing, it's just that I cannot do anything well"

"What?" She frowned "Of course you can! You do a lot of things well, love, for example, this soup, I think Hvitserk will ask for your hand in marriage after he's done with it" she smiled.

"Ivar didn't like it" you muttered, shrugging.

"That's weird, I always cooked this soup for him and he loved it" she shook her head.

"I must have done something wrong"

"No, you didn't" she smiled at you, caressing your cheek "He's just in a mood, probably... Do you want to take the rest of the food to them or you prefer staying here?"

You bit your lip.

"I think I'm going to go home" you muttered "I haven't slept very well..."

"But you haven't eaten anything!" Helga replied, the concern making her frown again.

"I'll eat something at home" you smiled, trying to reassure her "See you tomorrow, Helga... Oh, give my plate to Ivar" you bit your lip "He must be hungry" you kissed her cheek before going out of the house, using the back door to avoid the brothers.

Ivar could see Helga was angry at him. He supposed it was because of the way he had talked to you. Gods, it was annoying how much she seemed to care about you. You weren't a viking, just a simple thrall that had been abandoned by her own family.

"Where is Y/N?" Ubbe asked when Helga brought them the cooked fish they had gotten that morning.

"She went home, she wasn't feeling well" Helga glared at Ivar, who rolled his eyes but frowned a bit, feeling a bit guilty "Anyway, she asked me to give you her food, Ivar, as you didn't eat the soup" she gave him a plate with more food. That made him blush and take the plate. He heard Sigurd scoffing and saw Ubbe smirking. Hvitserk, on the other hand, was looking at his plate with a pout.

"You deserve it, brother" it was annoying how Ubbe seemed to know everything "Now think about how you're going to apologize to her while you eat her food"

You stood on your small house, completely naked and looking down at your body with a frown. There had to be something wrong with you.

Maybe it was because you didn't have those long and strong legs that all the viking women had, or maybe it was your belly, which wasn't as flat as you'd like it to be, maybe you had small breasts. Or maybe it was your incapacity to fight, or to be bold and fight as the viking women.

The thing was; no man had ever shown interest on you. Well, Hvitserk had tried to get you into his bed several times, and Ubbe had too. Sigurd tried to kiss you once, but given the reputation of the three brothers with women, every single female present in Kattegat had been in that position at least once on their lives.

But no one had ever actually liked you, you guessed, as no one had ever talked to you in that way.

It was true that you were too in love with Ivar to even look at other men, but as he seemed to hate you, you probably should forget about him...

Then you realized. You were crying over someone who was cruel to you. Well, to you and to half of the population in Kattegat, but especially to you. You only had showed him kindness and love, forgiving his outbursts and always tried to please him, make him feel comfortable. And he only screamed at you and made you feel bad.

You breathed deeply, frowning. You had to put an end to it. You were only hurting yourself while pining after him, and he clearly wasn't interested.

No, Ivar wasn't the right man for you.

Of all the things you loved about Kattegat, the feasts were your favorite. You loved the music, the large amounts of food, the dancing, the people laughing and having fun... You always felt more relaxed and enjoyed those evenings.

That day was no different. You dressed up in a beautiful red dress and left your hair loose, only braiding some locks. You felt better that day. You had received another flower at your door that morning, but that wasn't the main reason of your happiness, as you had began to think it was some type of joke. You were happy because you had spent days ignoring Ivar. You had avoided him a little bit, but you were proud to say that you didn't even look at his direction whenever he was present.

It was a start, and you were already feeling more confident and relaxed.

The feast didn't disappoint. You ate sitting next to Hvitserk and Ubbe, who spent the whole dinner laughing about how Sigurd had tripped over himself while training and had fallen right onto his butt. The story wasn't that funny, but the way they cried in laughter while telling you made you laugh with them, happy to be able to share their joy.

You didn't pay any attention to Ivar, who was eyeing you, annoyed. He had been waiting for your to look at him and smile lovingly, offering him some more food or mead.

He missed it.

Yeah, at first he found you annoying, how you would be all day looking at him and longing for his attention. He couldn't understand why a beautiful girl like you would be interested in him, the cripple.

He had looked at you, of course he had. Every single man in Kattegat who wasn't blind had.

But you were too much for him, and that angered him. If he had been a true viking, like his brothers, he would have claimed you. But he was a cripple, and you deserved something better.

For him, that was reason enough to be rude to you. Maybe then you'd forget about him.

But a part of him didn't want you to forget.

Ivar frowned, watching as you almost choked on your food after Hvitserk said some stupid thing that made you laugh. Surely you had finally realized that his brothers were a better option than him.

Next to him, Aslaug talked about how he should stop training so hard, saying that he'd end up hurt.

"Ivar" she sighed when she realized he wasn't listening "What's wrong? You look bothered"

Her son looked at her, faking a smile and putting his hand over hers.

"I'm okay, mother"

Aslaug looked at you. She had noticed the change on your behavior with Ivar. She actually understood, knowing how it felt to be ignored, humiliated and hurt by a man.

"If you were nicer to her, she wouldn't ignore you" Aslaug took her cup, sipping on her drink while Ivar scoffed.

"I don't care"

Aslaug raised an eyebrow at his words, but didn't say anything, not wanting to upset him.

Everyone was already drunk. Even you were a bit tipsy, giggling at everything and blushed. You had moved to be closer to Sigurd, who was playing some music while a group of people gathered around him sang and danced happily. You were standing up, your back leaned onto the wall and a cup on your hands. A smile on your lips.

Ivar looked at you intensely. You looked pretty smiling, more than you did when you frowned or winced at his cruel words.

Again, you deserved someone who would make you smile like that.

That angered him, again, and he cursed himself for not being good enough. He never was good enough. Maybe that's why he was so angry at you, because you reminded that to him every time you smiled softly at him and ignored his remarks.

He throw his cup to the floor, clenching his jaw with rage. A part of him would like to go and apologize to you, to tell you that he didn't mean any of those things he always said to you. But he was too proud, and if you laughed at him he wasn't sure of how he would react.

He stayed there, sat on his chair, his lips pressed together and his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard that he would have probably broken it if Ubbe hasn't made him remove his hand.

His brother followed his gaze, smiling softly when he realized he was looking at you. Of course he was looking at you.

You, oblivious to what Ivar was thinking, kept listening to Sigurd, smiling softly. Until someone stopped in front of you. He was a handsome man, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and he was smiling at you.

"Hello" he tilted his head. Gods he was very handsome "You must be Y/N, right?"

You blushed, not knowing how to react. It was the first time a man approached you in that way.

"Yeah, I... Am Y/N" you cleared your throat, smiling nervously.

"It's a pleasure to meet you" he had a deep voice, and his tone was soft and gentle "My name is Einar, I just arrived to Kattegat a few weeks ago and I couldn't help but to notice you"

"Me?" You almost choked.

"Yeah, I have to say, you're one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen"

You blushed, widening your eyes and making him chuckle.

"Well... Thank you, I suppose" you looked away, too ashamed to look at him in the eye.

"Don't thank me, I'm just saying the truth" he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink.

You smiled softly, biting your lip. You felt a warmth inside you and you actually felt good. It was just like his comment had made you feel more confident with yourself.

"I see you like music" he looked at Sigurd, who kept playing the oud with a bright smile on his lips.

"Sigurd is really good" you nodded.

"I heard you're close to his family"

"I am" you smiled at him "I came here as a slave for queen Aslaug, but she freed me and gave me a place to live, her sons have been very nice to me... Well, almost all of them"

"I can't imagine how someone could not be nice to you" his blue eyes which reminded you of Ivar's but less intense and softer, were fixed in yours "He must be a fool"

"Ivar is... Complicated" you sighed "But don't let him hear that"

"Would you like to get out of here? We can go somewhere more... Quiet"

You bit your lip, and your eyes scanned the large hall searching for Ivar's. When you finally spotted him, you were surprised to find that he was looking at you, well... Glaring at you. You were tempted to look away and lower your head, as you always did when he glared at you like that. But this time you didn't. You refused to give him power to hurt you again.

He didn't want you, he had made it very clear, you'd dare to say that he despised you, so what were you going to do? Stay there and keep feeling bad about yourself because of his indifference or go away with a man that clearly had some interest in you and who was being much nicer?

You looked at Einar again, managing to compose a charming smile before nodding and taking his hand.

"Let's go"

Tags: @mblaqgi @alicedopey @lol-haha-joke @hallowed-heathen @ivarslittlebadgirl @naaladareia @tephi101 @captstefanbrandt @love-hate-love @titty-teetee @thisisparadisemylove @readsalot73 @moondustmemories @thevikingsheaux @therealcalicali @chimera4plums @blushingskywalker @awkwardfangirl02

I hope you liked it!💜 thanks for reading!

#ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #vikings imagine #angst #ivar x reader #alex høgh andersen

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ghostmartyr · 6 years

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My god you're so annoying. Stop being such an attention wh*re and try to be a better friend you dick. I can't stand fsm because of you and the other obnoxious people. We're all going through shit, dammit I've got cancer and it makes me want to beat you the fuck up for wanting to die. Get fucked, pray to god to stay alive or get cancer like the rest of us and learn how hard life is when your time is limited

You okay?

Usually, when someone brings up FSM in my inbox, I ignore them, because it’s fairly obvious they’re trying to invent drama by accusing things of going down in an invisible platform on a visible platform.

I don’t care for it. Defending my server gives the impression that I have any need to dignify the spreading of unsubstantiated rumors. I delete, and I move on, and it is a pinned server policy that this is how these messages are to be handled.

Because it happens very often that members of my Discord server end up with anonymous messages indicating that something untoward is going on in the server. The intent behind it is transparent in every regard. I can’t imagine the purpose in fabricating lies about a group most of the people on the internet have no idea exists, but it appears to be the consistent motive.

I have no interest in granting that behavior the courtesy of my time.

On the other hand, this level of personal vitriol isn’t something I’m okay not responding to. You’re using me as a punching bag, taking pieces of my life that you’d have to pay very close attention to in order to know about, and wielding them as weapons. There is an undercurrent of deeply personal information laced through this entire ask. I can point to specific posts that would have incited each sentence.

You’re very involved in keeping up with my life.

I’m sorry your life is ending. Cancer is one of this world’s impossible trials, and it’s not right that anyone goes through that.

I’m sorry you’re hurt. I’m sorry you have so much anger and pain that your only way to deal with it is to dig up personal details on someone you can’t stand and try to ruin their day. I’m sorry you’re in so much agony that you can acknowledge we all have problems while utterly dismissing suicidal tendencies as a legitimate one. I’m sorry you’re going to die, and have to put up with humans who have the option of living not properly enjoying it.

I’m sorry life sucks.

I don’t need to imagine what it’s like to be in so much torment that you want to lash out at someone you despise and allow yourself a moment to purely hate them because you need to do something with all the broiling emotions inside. I’ve felt that. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, and I am so, so sorry that you’re going through it.

But I’m not your fucking punching bag.

You don’t get to come into my inbox and beat on me while I just take it. When you pull this shit, you’re indulging in the worst parts of human nature. You are actively choosing to take your pain and use it against someone so they’ll fall down to the level you think they should be at.

This is a barbaric, impolite, hurtful way to act, and nothing in your life forced you into this behavior. This is you choosing to be the worst of yourself.

I’m sorry that feels like your best recourse.

It isn’t. It never is.

I’ll pray for you, and I always pray for me. I hope we both get the miracles we need.

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twistedrunes · 6 years

Text

A note on fics and requests

Hello friends!

I’m writing this today in the spirit of fostering a happy and ongoing relationship between us.

I can’t begin to tell you all how much I appreciate all of you who follow me, like and/or reblog my stuff. Those of you who send me comments, feedback and asks are my favs (I’m sorry unlike my mother I have favourites). In the past few months since I joined this site, it has become my safe space away from reality. I have found some truly amazing humans who have shown me kindness, support and friendship beyond measure. I have been lucky that thus far I have not encountered any trolls. So Tumblr for me has become my home within my home.

I love that on Tumblr I can share my writing with a wide audience. I love that people will tell me that they enjoy my work, or that they check my account every day to see if I have new stuff. That I’ve made people have feelings or thought differently about something. Getting notifications that a person is reading through the chapters of George honestly makes me smile, watching someone binge is a feeling I can’t even describe.

I love that people value my writing and deem that I may just be able to give life to their ideas. I love when people request work from me and that people send me amazing, brilliant, heartwarming or funny ideas which shoot me off in a creative direction I never thought of (I’m looking at you here Shirts and Performance Anxiety requesters). I like that I can collaborate with people I’ve never met and will like never know beyond an anonymous ask and a keyboard. I view requests as a collaborative work.

I love it all.

The wonder of the Tumblr is that we are all relatively anonymous. I’m sure most of you realise I am not actually a crone who lives under a trap door. You don’t know what I look like, what I do to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly, or much else about me. Although some of you probably have a good idea of my political and social justice views and weirdly, now I think about it, many of you have probably had some insight into my particular “tastes” (okay this is embarrassing now I think about it -- moving on.)

Among the things you don’t know about me is I have depression and anxiety (I don’t like to say I suffer because thankfully there are good days, even weeks or months sometimes). I like to think of them as my very own black dragon or rather a pack (or whatever the correct nomenclature is for a group of dragons - hoard?). Who on occasion sweep in and raze my village to the ground and takes a sheep or villager or two. Unfortunately, my dragons are not quite as sweet as toothless. On the whole, I can keep my dragons in check by providing them with regular offerings and by having my kingdom knights in place to guard against them (sleep, regular meals, medication, therapy etc).

But, in the past few months my dragons have deemed these offerings insufficient and have been raiding more and more often and my knights have suffered catastrophic loses. So I am alone with my sword against the hoard. A battle worthy of the Grecian epics has been waged and fair to say my sword has not been as swift or sharp as I would have liked and the hoard has redoubled their efforts. I am tormented on a daily if not hourly basis. These battles have worn me down and worn me out and currently, I am quite literally bunkered down in my hovel.

I have a love-hate relationship with my brain and my dragons. My brain has helped me create some work I’m really proud of. I’ve run a business and worked in some amazing places where amazing things were happening. I graduated from Uni with first class honours and am working my way through a PhD. Hyperfixation helped me write 60,000 words of my fic George in just a few weeks. I like to think that sometimes I’m funny or witty and that I can have some empathy for others who have their own struggles. Other times my brain convinces me that I am stupid, mean, inadequate, unworthy or just plain unlovable, even unlikeable (I’ll stop there but know given the chance I would write a thousand things). I have significant issues with ‘rejection’ and it causes me physical pain and great mental distress to feel I have made anyone feel any of these things.

So why does this matter to any of you? Well, really it doesn’t. BUT, I need to start rejecting some of the requests in my inbox. I need to reject them because having ones I don’t feel I can do in my inbox is stressing me out. But, my dragons have me convinced that I will hurt peoples feelings or that they won’t like me if I do this. The intellectual part of my brain knows that for the most part, this isn’t true, but it’s hard to be intellectual when dragons are burning down your village and trying to eat you. But I have to change something.

So going forward:

* I’ll be cleaning out my inbox of any current requests I don’t think I can do.

* I will reply to your request I won’t just delete them

* I will keep my requests open - but if after a week or so the request hasn’t sparked anything off on my brain I’ll respond and let you know that I can’t do it, I will try to explain why (if it’s a reason beyond - I have no idea what to do with this.

* However this does not mean you are guaranteed your requested fic within a week or any other set time period, just that I’m keeping it on my “to do” list.

* I am happy to have a dialogue with you about your request, but remember I am not a monkey (paid, trained or otherwise who can just churn out fics)

IMPORTANT NOTE:

Me rejecting your request does not mean I think its, dumb, stupid or anything beyond, I don’t have a plan or idea for what to do with this. Basically the ‘prompt’ has not prompted any ideas for me or I know someone has already done a similar request that I don’t have anything ‘new’ to add. Or if its something I’m not comfortable writing about.

The only reason I will reject a request because of ‘you’ is if I know the same request has been sent to multiple authors. Because when people do that it’s not a collaboration. There aren’t many peaky writers out there are we tend to read each other’s work and we talk to each other, often discussing ideas so we tend to notice.

So, in summary, I appreciate all of you, I love getting requests and feedback from you all and I hope we can keep working together going forward.

The above is not a cry for help or an attempt at garnering sympathy, simply an attempt at an open dialogue.

TLDR: If I reject your request it’s not you, it’s me.

Wishing you all a wonderful day/night wherever you are.

‘Twistedrunes xox

#housekeeping #asks #request #twdepression #tw anxiety #tw mental health

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harryanddracoarehusbands-blog · 7 years

Note

Love to see a story in which Harry is starting to feel things for Draco but is to scared to explore it. That is until someone confronts Draco and Harry is all like 'not my boyfriend you bitch but then realizes that they were only bf in his head.

This will probably be crap, but this has been sitting in my inbox for so long and I really want to post this. Thanks for the prompt anon! I hope you like it

Harry wasn’t sure when it happened. Maybe it was their late night seeker games. Maybe it was their afternoons spent in the library, studying. It could have been the one time he stayed up to finish his essay and ended up falling asleep and coincidentally cuddling up to him. However, no matter when or where or how, Harry couldn’t deny that it was happening.

He had a crush on Draco Malfoy.

Of course Draco had to be the first guy he had a legitimate crush on. He had just discovered his own sexuality over the summer when he and Charlie were alone in the house and had a few too many firewhiskeys. But that was a story for another time.

He realized his little crush when he and Draco were on the astronomy tower one night. They had snuck out because Harry wanted to see the Draco constellation. With the help of the cloak and map, it was an easy feat.

Once they arrived, Draco began to give Harry instructions to find the constellation. However, Harry wasn’t great at following these directions. As a result, Draco came up behind him and place his face on his shoulder. Draco grabbed Harry’s arm and brought it up to point at Draco while Harry stared at him in alarm. Eventually, the shock wore off and Harry was able to see the arrangement of stars.

From then on, everything was different. Harry was hyper-aware of every action Draco would take in his presence. Every word spoken sent a shock running though his veins. Every laugh emitted caused a warm feeling to grow in his stomach and spread down to his toes. It took everything in him not to ponce on Draco every time they hung out.

Draco had picked up on it eventually. When he prodded Harry about why he was acting strange, Harry had shrugged it off. He gave a half-hearted excuse about being busy with their school work and whatnot. Reluctantly, Draco let it slide, but he knew something else was going on. If Harry could help it, Draco would never learn what that something was.

Harry really liked Draco and the idea of them dating was pleasant, but there was one problem. Draco was straight. On several occasions, he had discussed his parents plans to find him a wife and for him to have an heir. When Harry criticized his parents insistence on an arranged marriage, Draco had told him to drop it. Apparently, this way of marriage was a Malfoy tradition and it was a honor to fulfill it. He was very adamant about going through with it. That had extinguished any hopeful thought Harry had.

That didn’t stop them from being close friends.Close friends who often shared secret smiles and hugged each other, with the occasional kiss on the cheek. Close friends who often fell asleep on the same while reading in their dorms. Close friends who made any excuse to touch each other with gentle and supposedly innocent touches. That’s what close friends did, right?

All these things only seemed to make things worse for Harry. As much as he tried to fight the hope attempting to surge through his body, it still lived in him and it grew more with every fleeting touch and prolonged gaze. This hope survived to convince Harry that Draco felt it too. He wasn’t making things up in his head. Draco could see it too. It wasn’t one-sided; It couldn’t be.

And that brought them to this moment. Harry was walking through the Hogwarts corridors to make his and Draco’s study “date” in the library. As he was about to round one corner, a sound caught his ear. He stopped to listen.

“Where do you think you’re going?” a voice leered.

To his surprise, and horror, Harry heard Draco answer, “Well I was on my way to the library, but I’ve seemed to run into a troll on my way.”

“You better watch your mouth,” the voice threatened.

“Oh, I’m absolutely terrified now,” Draco responded in a bored voice. Harry suspected he was the only one who could hear the slight tremor. Quietly, he came around the corner to find the voice belonged to some Hufflepuff. A fifth year, from the looks of it. He continued to creep up behind them as the boy remained unaware, too immersed in tormented Draco to look up.

“Maybe I can shut that mouth up for you, you deatheater scum,” the Hufflepuff said. He raised his wand and without thinking, Harry moved quickly to block Draco.

“Leave my boyfriend alone!” he burst out as he casted the strongest lip lock hex he could muster. The boy was angry at first, but it swiftly diminished as he registered who was behind the wand that jinxed him. The distorted voice of the boy was incomprehensible, but Harry was sure he was attempting to apologize. With a glare and slight raising of his wand, the boy scurried away like a dog with his tail between his legs.

When the boy was out of his sight, Harry turned and started to evaluate Draco for any injuries. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” he asked, running his hands over his shoulders and face. He abruptly stopped his search of Draco’s body when he noticed Draco was staring at him with wide eyes and his mouth agape. That’s when what Harry said started to register in his own mind.

He stumbled over his words in his haste to explain, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t - That is to say - There was - He-” Before he could get an actual sentence out, Draco crashed his lips against his. At first, he was frozen with surprise, but soon he returned the kiss with as much enthusiasm as the blonde. Draco’s hands came up to wrap around his neck and finger the hair at his nape, while Harry tugged him closer by his waist. His lips were soft against his own, chapped ones. Draco attempted to deepen the kiss, but Harry pulled back before he could.

“What about your arranged marriage and all that?” he inquired.

“Screw tradition. It hasn’t done me any good my entire life,” Draco answered. Their lips met again and this time, when he tried to deepen the kiss, Harry let him.

It may have gone against the Malfoy tradition, but it was right.

If you like what I do, Buy Me a Coffee

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #harry x draco

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imaginexmeintheuniverse · 7 years

Text

When You’re Broken

Pairing: Warren Worthington III x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, and depression

Word Count: 1, 243

Tagged lovlies: @iamplaguedwithideas @coltcas

Special thanks to @emmcfrxst for giving lovely advice and the confidence I needed to post this ❤️

Moodboard | Masterlist

A/N: **At the bottom because it’s long**

It always hurts- No, more than hurts; it's an indescribable agony when the person you love the most is in so much pain and you can't do anything about it because they have lost hope in themselves.

He slowly watched her smile fade as the weeks went by, each time looking more forced until it seemed to disappear completely. He almost forgot the beautiful sound of her laugh. She had stopped her usual singing and humming while going about her day. His ray of sunshine that brightened his day no matter what had been reduced to a dim light. Moments of her quirky antics and playful touches were fleeting. The flame in her heart, once brighter than the sun itself, had become faint as she struggled to hold on to whatever crumbling pieces of herself were left.

He had no idea why he hadn't realized how bad things were, being so caught up life's fast pace. The feelings of guilt and the pain that hit him like a ton of bricks were almost too much to handle when he saw her crushed form in corner of the bathroom. How could he let it get so bad that he would come to find her broken down on the floor with a bottle of pills and a sharp razor neatly laid out a few feet in front of her like an ultimatum. As though it was a choice she had to make; opt to numb the pain or feel it somewhere other than on the inside. He's lucky to have gotten there before she had made a decision.

At first he stood frozen in the doorway, taking in the scene before him. The girl who once convinced him that life was worth living during his dark times was now sat on the cold tiles in nothing but her underwear and an oversized t-shirt of his. He saw the goose bumps on her legs that were to one side and on her arms that kept her from totally crumbling to the ground. She was also as still as a statue, focused on her options and her eyes only darted up to meet his captivating blue orbs for a fraction of a second before she saw an expression of realization across his features. She broke down from the shame of getting caught, her whole body shaking as she lifted a hand over her mouth to muffle her cries and unsteady breaths.

He immediately sprung forward, pushing the items on the floor out of the way as he extended his arms to hold her. Perhaps he went a little too quick. She flinched away from his touch and her feet scrambled as though she could push herself even more into the corner. Realizing how fragile she must be, he halted and chose to continue to approach her, but slowly and not touching her just yet.

"Please talk to me," he pleaded, crouching down so they could be face to face, "what is going on?"

She continued to avoid his gaze, staring at the ground so that strands of hair would cover her face. She had stopped crying and froze like the world around her was too much to process.

"Please," his voice broke and he felt the familiar sting of tears behind his eyelids.

She didn't move a muscle.

She saved him. He had been through so much shit and had let himself become someone he absolutely hated because of it. She was the one who saw through it. She saw the real him and brought him back. She made him want to be someone better; someone who deserved to be with such an amazing person. She came to him at a time in his life when he needed her most. She had seen him in his darkest hour and loved him anyways, instead finding the light in his heart. He may have been the one with the wings, but she was his angel.

And he let her slip.

She had chosen to bear this cross on her own for all this time, not wanting to be a burden to the ones she loved. She thought she could keep it at in and it would just disappear. It did the opposite. It accumulated and poisoned her from the inside.

She had made that choice but he tormented himself, automatically taking the blame for not noticing sooner before things got this bad. This was no time for him to torture himself with guilt, so he pushed those thoughts aside because she needed him right now. He wanted her to let him in. His chest burned with the need to hold her and protect her from what she would do to herself.

Not wanting to scare her, he slowly raised a hand. She slightly tilted her head up to look at his out-stretched hand for moment before dropping her focus back to the ground. He took this as a good sign since she hadn't recoiled or pushed him away and proceeded to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"I love you so much," he stroked her hair absentmindedly as he spoke softly, keeping his distance as to not frighten her.

She stayed silent, but he knew she was listening to him even though her focus was towards the floor.

"I love you so much it hurts," he choked out as the tears started to fall over his cheeks, "and it hurts so much to see you in this much pain."

He knew her. He knew she had bottled everything up thinking it was her cross to bear on her own. He was determined to make sure she knew that she didn't have to carry it all on her own. He needed to make sure she knew how grateful he was to have her be his and to be hers.

"I didn't think anyone as damaged as I was could ever be loved, but you saw something in me that no one else did and believed in me when no one else would. I still have no idea how I could ever be deserving enough to have anything as beautiful as you in my life."

She leaned into his touch, allowing her eyes to flutter closed as tears streamed down.

"You found me broken," he choked out, "and you fixed me."

"You didn't need to be fixed," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You needed to be loved."

He tilted her chin up with two delicate fingers so he could look into her eyes that had always shined as bright as her smile, but had lost their gleam.

"You picked up all my shattered pieces and put me back together. Even the ones that couldn't possibly be salvaged." His thumb skimmed down the side of her face to cup around it, " And then you filled in the cracks with your love."

She was left speechless by his honest words; never thinking someone could ever care about her this much. She allowed herself to collapse into him, breathing in his comforting scent as he protectively wrapped his arms around her waist to support her frail frame. Her body shook against his as the she released wracked sobs. He gently tangled his fingers into her hair while his other arm held me tight as though she might disappear if he lets go.

"You saved me," he whispered into her hair, "and now I'm going to do the same with you."

A/N: **Sorry this is going to be long but it’s important for whom it may concern** I wrote this a while back when I was in a really bad place before I started this blog and I have been debating whether or not I should post it. I have very recently revisited that bad place and wanted to share this piece in hopes of encouraging people who are in a similar situation to ask and accept help like I wish I would have a long time ago.Topics including and surrounding depression and suicide are serious and not to be romanticized or taken lightly. This piece comes from a very personal and very real place inside my mind that I sometimes get trapped in, and expressing some of my feelings through writing has helped me more than I ever would have thought. So, I hope those who read this can know that they are not alone out there and if you ever find yourself wandering to a dark place my ask box and inbox is always open for you ❤️

#Warren Worthington III #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #potatowrites #xmen #xmen imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #when youre broken

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