#he's so majestic I've seen the most beautiful man in existence and I cry

[zwiezraczek]

Love The Way You Lie [Blurb]

8. “Why are you doing this to me?” 11. “You're driving me crazy, you know that?” 20. “I think I just found somebody to love.”

Warnings: unhealthy relationship, violence mentionned

Inspired by Love The Way You Lie - Eminem

 ~~~

You gulped the bottle, laughing, feeling the alcohol pulsing through your veins as the music grew louder and louder. Mutants clubs, the best clubs. But what was even more beautiful in all of this, was the illegal part: mutants were indeed illegal, their clubs? Illegal. Their existence? Illegal. Their games? Illegal. And this was why you loved to stay there, with your bestfriend, dancing until your feet hurt and your head filled with alcohol and dirty thoughts, until your hands slid under somebody's t-shirt, until you could feel alive, again.

And as the lights flickered above your head, you noticed them. These majestic white wings in the darkness, surrounded by various persons, dancing girls next to them, lazily brushing against them and the man owning them. His beautiful and mesmerizing eyes. He had a drink in his hand, a girl in the other, sitting on his lap, giggling and smiling as she touched the angelic curls on his head. But his eyes were looking at you right now, and the only thing you could think about was him. Only him.

Lust danced between you, as you swayed your way through the crowd to find yourself in front of him, before he could have a better look at you. You were sparkling, seductive, a temptress. And he looked like a fallen angel, with his burning eyes and his white wings. He had toyed enough with the girl on his lap, and asked her to leave, and so she did, not pleased to see you being his new center of attention.

“I think I just found somebody to love,” he declared, after drinking a sip of his beer. His eyes devouring you with one glance from above.

“You sure pretty boy,” you asked, while smirking, “I'm pretty handful to be with. Not sure you could handle me...”

“Let's find out, doll.” With a gesture of his hand, he invited you on his lap, and you couldn't refuse. And as you sat up there, he began to kiss your neck, roughly, lustily, with passion. His skin pressed against yours, as you gasped from time to time. “See? I'm doing great.”

“I'm not so sure,” you moaned as he licked your collarbone, your hand softly toying with his t-shirt. “I've seen bett... Oh my god,” you exhaled as he made you feel alright, just by kissing your neck.

“Maybe better than you thought, doll.” His expert hands wandered all around your body, his wings wrapping around both of you, your moans only for his ears, nobody else.

“You're driving me fucking crazy,” you panted, looking at him with a sparkle in your eyes. He probably was the one.

“So do you, doll.”

~~~

You became what some could call lovers, what others could call sex friends, but whatever you had was a game. The game to know which one of you could drag the other towards the edge, the edge of common sense and the edge of sanity. Aggressiveness rising as you kissed that boy, his body pressed against yours and his hands moving gently on your hips, your rage exploding when a girl's tongue wandered on his collarbone, him holding her close and marking her neck. Always eyes on each other, to see which one would break the first. There was no pattern, but everything always ended in a fight. Either you going out, yelling names at him, waiting in the apartment you shared and breaking glasses while he came back, crying, raging and telling him to fuck off, either him going absolutely batshit, trying almost to kill the guy being with you, pining you up against the wall as you looked at him with your provocative eyes.

“Why are you doing this to me,” he asked, your jaw in his right hand. It hurt, it absolutely hurt how much his fingers were into your skin as he held your face to force you to look at him.“Answer, bitch!”

“Because you agreed, motherfucker,” you would reply, scents of alcohol in your voice as many as in his own. You'd go through the pain, as always, he'd apologize, you'd apologize.

“Don't you fucking toy with me, you're mine,” he would exclaim, the attention suddenly driven towards the two of you, his wings sharpening at their ends, you could hear their hissing. You knew these could make you bleed, and they did and not only once. But you made them bleed too, not once, with some broken glass.

“I'm not a pet of yours, Warren,” you whispered, confident as you felt that breathing became difficult. You smiled nevertheless.

“But you are fucking mine, either you want it or no, and I'll fucking kill whoever tries to fuck around with you. You heard that,” you couldn't tell if he was speaking to you, or to the guys gathered around you as he let you go. Your jaw hurt, it would leave some bruises in the morning. But who cared? You won the game tonight, you won this round and that was all that matter.

“So how about showing me I'm all yours then, Warren Worthington the Third,” your cooed, looking at him. Your makeup was flawed, tears which ran on your face when he chocked you made you look like a small hurt panda, but you were lust on legs to him, with that face or without.

“You're driving me crazy doll, you really do,” he whispered, his hand against the wall, just right to your ear. His wings softened a bit, you touched them, carelessly because you knew how much it helped him to relax, to be turned on.

You were sure of one thing during that night: you won the most outrageous and passionate night, only to yourself. With Warren, a man capable of making you scream for any reason.

~~~

His burning rage met your limits on that night. You spat on his face, as he grabbed your arm telling you that you had to stay there, he punched a hole in the wall next to your head. You felt scared, but also impressed. But you told him that you were leaving, for whatever reason, and as you slammed the door you heard him screaming, hitting the door endlessly. But letting you go. You stood there, in the hallway, hearing him burn. You heardshattering of glass, how many glasses you broke together while in this sick relationship? You had your head between your fingers, crying. You felt helpless. You loved him, he loved you, this sick game of yours was the best thing that could have happened to you both. But that was consuming you, destroying sometimes. But you loved it the way it was.

As you sat in the dark corridor, after a dozen of minutes, you heard the door open. You saw light, and him. His wings struggling to pass through the door as always, looking like an angel in the moonlight, only shorts on and his torso on display. He offered you his hand, eyes tired and puffy from crying too. You knew everything was hurting you, you knew he was hurt, you knew you were hurting you, but this weird exchange of energy suited youboth. You took his hand, and entered the apartment, watching out to not step on some glass.

“Doll it wasn't you, it was me,” he assured, stroking your hair as you laid your head on his lap, slowly not sobbing anymore. “And maybe our relationship isn't as crazy at it seems...”

“It's fucking us,” you corrected him, rising your eyes on him. “We're driving each other crazy for nothing, watching ourselves burn as we push each other's buttons...”

“This is what happens when a tornado meets a volcano, doll,” he delicately whispered, looking at you. “I can barely breathe when I'm not with you, doll. I can't fucking get you out my mind, you know that doll?” You nodded, feeling exactly the same. “So don't move doll, and close your eyes.”

You rose, looking at him in confusion. This wasn't Warren at all, it wasn't how he worked. He urged you to close your eyes before leaving you, alone, on the couch, hands covering your eyes. You heard him walking carefully to not make his feet bleed on the glass he broke earlier, before he opened a drawer and closed it. Curiosity shook your whole body as you heard him being close, the sound of his wings right next to you, their soft touch brushing your bare shoulders.

“Open your eyes doll.”

And he knelt in front of you, looking at your tired and puffy face from crying. A small box, with a ring in his hands.

“All I know is that I love you too much to leave you walk away from me, doll. All I know is that rage takes us over sometimes, controls us, but I also know that we love each other.”

“Yes,” you replied before he could ask you anything. “Warren yes.”

“Let me finish,” he said, looking at you with these glistening eyes. “I love you, y/n, and I want to marry you; with or without these little game of ours I don't fucking care, I just wantto be with you, doll.”

“Yes Warren, I agree, I love you too,” you kissed his forehead gently, your hand caressing his wings first, and then his cheek. “I'd be honored to become Mrs. Worthington.”