Pietro Maximoff Imagines #Wattys2015

When He Begs You To Love Your Body

WARNING: BODY INSECURITY/WEIGHT TRIGGERS. CONTAINS POSITIVITY DIRECTED AT WHAT YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE MAY CONSIDER TO BE FLAWS.





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"I don't care." he hissed, backing you into a wall. "Don't you get it? I. Don't. Care!" his usually composed voice broke as he uttered that final word.






His hand that gripped tightly to your wrist, slowly loosened and in that moment, you were completely certain that you had lost him forever.







Good, you thought, it's about time he stopped wasting his time on me.







"I don't care, (Y/N)."







Who knew four little words could hurt so much? Finally your relationship was finished. Perhaps you could move on with your lives. Well, he could move on with his life. While you...you could just continue to be miserable all day every day.








Cupping your face in both of his hands, his frantic gaze desperately searched yours for even a glimmer of emotion but he could find none. The girl he loved was so beyond his reach that, he could have howled and wept with grief.







"Please stop this obsession, (Y/N). It's killing me to see you so unhappy. It's killing you too. Don't you see?" his thumb carressed your cheek.









He loved you so much. Exactly the way you were and yet, you were so overcome with the need to acquire the perfect body. The ones that littered the front pages of tacky magazines that only sold lies and displayed photoshopped deceptions. Smoke, mirrors and digital enhancements- that's all they were.







"You're changing yourself so much. I'm...I'm afraid I'm going to lose you. I'm going to lose the one person I love and I don't know how to stop you. I...I don't think I'm enough." a pained sob escaped his lips, as he pressed a chaste kiss to yoir forehead. "I'm sorry I'm not enough."








Him not enough? That was an absurd notion. In fact, you could have even argued that there was too little of him. There needed to be more. More of him to love. More of him to hold in your hands. To kiss. To carress. To love. You could never get enough of him.









If only you could have seen that this was how he felt about you. Word. For. Word.







His world started and ended with you. Your lips were his first and last thought every night. Your eyes were the maze he loved to lise himself in. Your smile was his sunshine on a dreary day. And your moans of ecstasy were the music to his ears. You were the chaotic prose he could never stop quoting. You were his muse and he, just a besotted Wordsworth.






If words were enough to convince you to change the way you perceived yourself, he would have written you a novel. A grand volume. A book thats size and eloquency would have challenged the beauty of even the likes of Tolstoy and D H Lawrence.






If you required an entire solar system, he would have plucked out tge stars and the moon with his bare hands and presented them to you with delay, if it meant you would stop the self-hate and find with yourself, the capacity to love.





Unbeknownst to him, he had spoken his sorrowed and yet, hopeful string of consciousness outloud to you, his Alpha and Omega. His beginning and end. His always and his inifinity.







"I can't lose you." he whispered into the surrounding atmosphere, hoping his plea would find it's way into your frayed and dispirited soul. Perhaps it would be the kindle that woukd ignite a spark of determination with in you.







After several silent moments, you finally found the strength to utter eight simple, yet heartbreaking words. "I don't even know who I am anymore."









Brushing a rogue lock away from you face, his lips upturned to display a watery smile. "You don't need to, not straight away. But I know who she is and together, we're going to find her again, okay? She hasn't fully disappeared. This isn't the end, I promise."







"But what if I never find her?" you whimpered, as you brung your hand to cover his, as it continued to cup your tear-stained face. "What if I can never be who I was?"






Sometimes in life, dear reader, we can never go back to being who we once were but does that mean we are a lost cause? No. A warrior collects their battle scars and then moves onto the next conquest. The next battle to face. Are we not the Queens who save themselves?