Mistress

This is the stuff I wake up to from my brother. And I believe this was posted by the official The Boys and Gen V Facebook groups or smth.

The most accurate one is obviously Love Sausage being Sweetums.

The fact that there's NSFW audio of stranger things characters, soon there going be a stranger things only fans💀

Did I do this right 🤌

Heathers (1989)

“Only for you” - Jason Dean x Fem!reader

Jason Dean x Fem!reader

“Our dirty little secret” - Heather Duke x Fem!reader

PUPPETEER

A/N: Happy New Year besties, and I hope your mclovin it, setting up goals. I'm wrapping everything in bows and ribbons, #in my coquette era. Anyway, I'm standing on business, and I will be Coriolanus number-one wife, he told me, TRUST ...This fic is also inspired by @wh0reforcoriolanussnow. And I hope you all have a wonderful new year and a healthy year, xoxo.

WARNING: p in the v, penetration, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, creampie, choking, groping, abuse of power, cigarette usage, alcohol, vomit, non-con to dub-con, gr**ming and breeding...Reader discretion advised + DDDNE.

PAIRING: President!Coriolanus x nymphet!reader

WORD COUNTER: 3.1k

You were innocent so sweet, pure like a dove, and sweet as honey. You smelt like tulips and cinnamon. You had bright shiny f/c hair and sparkly e/c eyes. An infectious smile was always on your lips when you smiled at or saw him. You were a real-life painting of beauty, you were young, free, and impressionable. But you had a disgusting attitude, that was the main thing, feisty..he would've mistaken you for a district girl if it wasn't for your rich lifestyle and luxurious clothes you wear.

You were a cliche, stereotypical rich girl. You were rotten, spoiled if he dared to say. He would describe you as a bimbo or a stunner but surprising… you were smart and capable..popular with your peers. Though you had a horrible smoking habit, it wasn't any day you didn't have a cigarette between your plump lips, sniggering with your 'Friends'.

Maybe that's why he picked you, with all the pros and cons of having you in a matrimonious agreement. You were a candidate to be his wife and carry his children, of course, if you weren't going to put up a fight, but Coriolanus was sure that even if were to fight, he was going impregnate you with his seed.

The first time you heard of getting married to him by your mother, your father of course was away in some sort of business meeting. You were in disbelief, a distraught expression on your face…"Y/N..sweetie..you are getting married to him, this opportunity would help the family gratefully" Your mother pleaded with you, you leaned on one of the sofa chairs as you lit up a cigarette between your lips. Your mother hated the habit, that you picked up by your father, she thought it was unladylike and improper.

"No, I'm not" You quickly dismissed her, rolling your eyes as she repeated herself several times, "Y/n, it's not an offer..your going to marry him" She repeated herself again but with sternness, "No, I'm not" you glared, taking another hit of the cigarette, blowing it purposely in her face. Her face getting redder by the second at your rude gestures. Here you were sitting down, and having a tantrum in Dr. Gaul's office. She didn't say anything yet, just watching as you and your mother fought with each other.

"Y/N, I'm not sure why you're being such a brat, there is an opportunity right in front of you and you're not taking it..this can help us..your family..A LOT!" She argues you roll your eyes at her, looking another way. Before Dr. Gaul spoke up, your attention was on her…"Y/N..this opportunity comes once in a lifetime, becoming the First Lady of Panem is a powerful title" Dr. Gaul says, her hands tapping onto her wooden desk, you pursed your lips…"Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the whole day, and he will be here soon, make sure not to offend or disrespect him…it would be a good look at all" She finishes, and you roll your eyes at her.

You hated that you weren't controlling your life at this point, being forced to marry a man you never knew or cared for, until now. You just sat there smoking your frustrations away as you waited. Staring at the Big Ben clock as the hand moved. You waited, tapping the cigarette ashes onto the ashtray, your mother saying something to you that you ignored as she pressed the issue to you even further.

Exhaling the smoke from your lungs, your ears heard the click of the door, hearing footsteps coming into the office. "President Snow!" you listened to your mother's voice as she purposely made it higher than her already annoying pitch. You watched as Coriolanus and your mother shook hands. She had a sickeningly sweet smile on her face when she looked at him.

"Nice to see you again, Audrey" Coriolanus greeted her. You watched angrily, taking out the almost-finished cigarette from your mouth. Your eyes shifted to Dr. Gaul as Coriolanus also greeted her before he glanced towards your way. You ignore the stares of his blue irises. You felt your cheeks flush, tapping the end of the cigarette near the ashtray. "-And this is Y/N, right?" you felt his eyes on you, in return you gave him a nasty look, already pissed off with his presence and the future event that was being planned in front of you.

Your mother noticed as she carefully stepped towards you, flicking you harshly on the shoulder, and making you grimace.

You gave up resisting with your mother's eyes digging into you, "Yes, President Snow..." You swallowed your pride, enunciating every word in your sentence, making him amused by your actions. You didn't look at him, as you said it..looking down at the ashtray with the burnt ashes of the remains of the cigarette inside of it.

The rest of the meeting was your mother, and Coriolanus, talking about the marriage arrangement in front of you, you were livid by the action..and Dr. Gaul joined into the conversation, saying something, you blurred out and the whole conversation in general. You tapped your foot out in frustration, crushing the cigarette in the tray. You knew your parents just wanted to get rid of you, you would admit that you did do something that wasn't expected of you with your parents but to your defense, they never reprimanded you for any of it.

In this moment, you felt desperate, hopeless, and vulnerable...you were still a kid, a child.

But there wasn't any avail as the months would flip by and your 18th birthday would come, to be married off to the President of Panem and your induction following in as the First Lady, and soon child carrying without even enjoying your youth, becoming a mother, while your peers are relishing their freedom. It sounded like torture to you, made you angry and sad. You felt tears blurring your vision as you got up from your seat, the action being noticed by your mother and others in the room.

Marching out of the office, no.. running out of the office. The sound of your mother yelling for you. You ran out of the building, with your bag in your hand, reaching inside for another cigarette but there were any inside the box, "Fuck" you screamed out in frustration, throwing the box back into your bag, and resorting to a flask. Taking a sip of the alcoholic liquid, it was warm outside, the sun on your skin. It was relaxing, cooling your mood down. Sliding down to the floor, your knee pressed to your chest.

You don't know how much time passed but you wanted it to stop..sniffling to yourself. Your ears picked up on the sound moving near you as you looked to the side, your heart dropped at the sight of Coriolanus Snow in front of you, the man that would take you away from your childhood, your home, and your youth. But you give props to your parents, marrying you to a man who was handsome not as old which was something you were happy about. Just a six-year age gap between you both.

"Looking for this?" You watched as he reached into his pocket, throwing a pack of cigarettes, he almost laughed looking at your face lighting up, holding the box with your fingers. "Thank you," you said, looking up at him...you opened the box putting the cigarette in your lips, covering the end of the cigarette with the lighter lighting up the end. Blowing the smoke, as you held the cigarette between your fingers, sniffling. "Can I sit here with you?" He asked, you looked at him as you nodded. The man sat with you, you bit your bottom lip, as you took another hit of the cigarette. The nicotine cools down your nerves..."So, how is the school doing?" He asked you rolled your eyes at his question, he sounded like your dad..and you cringed at the thought, blowing the smoke, "Good" you responded, putting your head in your hands.

"It's not going to be all that bad, Y/N" He started speaking again, which made you groan, he shifted closer to you, putting his hand on your back. You wanted to revolt, moving away but you really need someone to comfort you, leaning into his touch. As you put your head in his chest, laying down as he rubbed your shoulder. You even know tears were rolling down your cheek, sniffling in your seat, he kissed you on the head, soothing your pain.

It was ironic, that the man you wanted to run away from, was comforting you.

God, you wanted to scream but you sat there, sniffling as you inhaled the nicotine through the cigarette and exhaled through your nose, tapping it onto the ground. His words were comfortable, whether empty or not, you took them as it was.

Coriolanus didn't mind that you laid your head on his chest, he quite appreciated it, your calmness made something inside of him unlock..your vulnerability stroked his ego, especially with your feisty nature.

Days passed, and you found yourself getting comfortable with Coriolanus. He would take you out on little dates, and buy your gifts and jewelry... that he would always put around your neck, the cold steel hitting your chest, the memory made you smile, with joy when you opened the luxurious satin case. The thought of marrying and sacrificing everything you had did get on the edge, and you still were uncomfortable at all with it, but you saw him as a friend more as a lover.

Your parents, mostly your mother encouraged you to speak and talk to him, even sending letters. You always catch yourself writing them for god knows why, but you felt comfort about doing it, and having him read it.

You found yourself visiting him in his residence, as you joined him for his afternoon tea. Something that you didn't do often with your own parents but liked when it was with Coriolanus. He would surprise you with delicious cakes, macarons, and cookies...with him looking at you cutely stuffing your cake with the sweet desserts, your eyes sparkling in joy, it made him chuckle at your cute antics.

But soon..your birthday came around. Your stomach was full of butterflies, you dreaded it. You were finally 18, you had your cake, your claps, and Coriolanus slipped the ring on your finger. The bells of marriage chimed. Looking at yourself in the mirror, a poofy, lacy wedding dress, your hair styled, and makeup done. You looked like a doll, a baby doll you used to play with when you were young.

The dress was pretty, white, lacy imprinted with snowflakes, big and poofy, you had a sweetheart neckline and a diamond necklace on your neck, matching earrings as well. A veil topped your doll-like appearance, as several maids helped you with your dress. The whole population of Panem waiting, watching the wedding ceremony, you felt sick, nauseous and it was evident on your face...the headmistress noticed it, she was an older woman, much older than you..placing her hand on your shoulder, catching your attention, "It will be over soon, just smile for the camera..okay?" She murmured, fixing your veil, nodded at her words, and that was all that you could do now.

Walking down the aisle is lock and key for you...fisting up your hands, narrowing your eyes, some of the maids said something, and next thing you knew, you were walking down the aisle with your father. People that you knew looking at you, some were your peers and others were important, influential people of the Panem, your eyes explored everywhere and then to Coriolanus, who stood there..waiting for you.

"Chin up, and smile Y/N" your father whispered to you,

You breathed out, fixing up your posture..everything felt slow, soon your father handed you off, and you stepped into your destine spot, looking at Coriolanus. You never notice how tall he was, though older, he was much taller, a few inches you assumed.

The priest said something, it was a blur. "I do" the word coming out of Coriolanus snapping you out, looking at the Priest, then at him. "-And you Y/N, do you take Coriolanus Snow as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward and the next..***#$&@*@*@@*$**..-sickness and health...to love and cherish until death do you part?" Your eyes widen at the weird noises coming from the priest's mouth, you hesitate, looking around you..your chest heaving. Your parents looked at you sternly, "I-..i do" You stuttered, "-And with that, you may kiss the bride" The Priest announced.

Coriolanus brought your body close, as his lips connected with yours..your ears ringing out with the sounds of claps and applause. Tears rolling down your cheek,

Your ears rang out, through the rest of the ceremony, the after-party and the kiss...the sound of the door clicking, looking down at your body in a nightgown, in your new residents shared with Coriolanus..where you would live, where your children live and spend your days in. Coriolanus's feet dragged towards you, and your heart pounced against your chest, looking at his half-naked form..." Is this when we" you paused gesturing the rest of your sentence with your hand, your eyes deliberately not looking at him.

You felt sad, disgusting, and vulnerable.

He saw it all over your face, it was obvious.

He preferred it,

You had a twinge of anger through your body, as you observed the smug smirk on his face, you didn't want to end it without a fight. His hand caressing your cheek, you soften at the sight of him, knowing his status and power, it would be a useless sight of retaliation.

He laid you down on your back, his hands dancing on your skin, creeping up under your nightgown, touching you...your eyes couldn't bear but stare. He slowly stripped you off of your nightgown, you were already naked underneath it. Your body is displayed for him, his finger touching and groping your body..you inhale through your nose looking at the ceiling.

His fingers getting dangerously close to your pearl..you instantly held his arm, "Please, be gentle" you whispered, making eye contact with him, as he nodded, releasing his arm. His fingers slipped into your folds, exploring inside you, making you squirm underneath him...sinful moans slipped from your lips at his actions. You looked innocent, lewd, and vulnerable underneath him, it made him get hard and aroused...his fingers scissoring you, his right hand on your chest, rubbing the nubs gently making you whimper. His weight lying on top of you, his fingers spreading your folds, and his fingers digging deep inside you, arching your back at the sensation. His lips leaving kisses from your neck to your collarbone.

Delicate moans left your lips, your hands gripping the sheets. Your skin prickling, your walls squeezing his finger...his groans echoing through your ears. You felt breathless, your breathing getting heavier.

"Corio..i'm close" you sniffled, holding his arm lightly, as his finger made his way into you, every thrust made you closer to coming undone. A throbbing sensation in your abdomen, driving you crazy, the lewd noises of your cunt reverberating around the room.

"Good" He whispered against your skin, the pace of his finger digging into you, your hand instantly gripping his shoulder, your nails digging in deep, making him groan. You felt a coil snapping within you, waves of pleasure, arching your back...your eyes rolling to the back of your head, moans ripping out of your throat. "Corio.." you looked at him through your lashes, your eyes heavy as you stared at him. His fingers withdrawing from your dripping pussy, your cum coating his fingers. Feeling your cheeks reddened..."Open your mouth" He said, you obeyed, laying his coated fingers on your tongue, your tongue swirling around his digits. You felt embarrassed in yourself, his eyes looking down at you, opening your mouth as he took his finger.

He opened your legs, smearing his salvia-coated finger on your thighs...your eyes followed as you held the position, taking off his pants along with his boxers. Your eyes widen in surprise at his size, "C-corio, it's not going to fit" you stuttered, looking away from him.

As he lines up against your slit, you pursed your lips as he slid his cock inside of you, biting your lip at the pain. He hooked your legs on his shoulder, thrusting into you, his hands groping your chest...tears blooming on your waterline at the discomfort, the simmering pain as he forced himself further into you. His groans tainting your ears,

Your breast bounces at every thrust, your vision heavy with lust, fluttering your lashes with tears in your waterline. He bares his teeth, leaving bites on your collarbone, you moan at the touch.

His cock bullying its way to your cervix, as he plunges his cock into you, your hands gripping under the bedsheets...his pace getting faster, and your skin getting a familiar hot feeling tingling inside of you. His pelvis collided with yours, pushing your head back as you moaned, his cock stretching you out. Your chest heaving, your skin beading with sweating, the bed sheet sticking onto your skin..." Corio...I'm so close" you began slurring your words in bliss.

His pace gets faster and sloppier, leaning into you, and giving you a hot, sloppy kiss. His tongue explores your mouth, moaning against his tongue.

Feeling yourself coming undone, as you moaned in pleasure...his thrust getting slower, his groans ringing into your ear before you felt himself spilling his load into you. The hot sensation made you wince,

Your heavy breathing echoed in his ear, as his weight on your body, his cock still burrowed inside of you.

Your eyes flickered down at the sheet between your thighs that was stained in your virgin blood.

A couple of days passed from the intimate engagement you had with Coriolanus. In those days, you were moved into Coriolanus's residence. Beginning the induction of the new title you were going to be given. In those days you began to experience sickness, holding your stomach..your actions were detected by the headmistress.

Your heels stepping on the tile, you felt your stomach hurting even further, feeling nauseous. You fell to your knees, heaving the contents on your stomach, vomiting on the delicate tile floor...hearing the steps of the headmistress, your eyes looking up at the women.

Her face was nonchalant at the scene, "Your pregnant, my lady" she declared..you felt your heart dropping, but you couldn't say anything as threw up on the floor. The sounds of vomit echo through the manor, sitting there, the disgusting smell filling up your senses.

Before the headmistress yelled for another maid to clean up the mess. Another two took you up gently from the floor, you wanted to cry at the new information given to you..you were baring a child in your body that you didn't wish for. But for now, you were being dragged on your feet to your chambers, waiting for the knowledge to be sent to President Snow.

mf this damn fucking fireworks being spammed in the sky, like what the actually fuck.

Please i need the fic of homelander asking "would you love me if I was a worm"

"C'mon," Homelander encourages, rolling his hand in an impatient, urging motion. He's smiling, but you can see the slight edge to it. "Just say it, and we can move on." "This is very silly," you say, arms crossed, fighting back a smile. "Yeah! Yeah, of course it is. It's a silly, stupid little question," he agrees, albeit a little too intensely. His smile borders on uncomfortably wide. "So just... answer it."

He isn't going to let this go. Your playful avoidance has morphed the initially harmless little joke into something more severe. He's tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. His smile has grown a touch unnerving now, not at all reaching his eyes. You're going to have to answer the question.

Hauling yourself up from your own seat, you make your way over to Homelander. You bend down to balance your hands on the arm rests of his chair, meeting his eye level. "I would make sure your enclosure was always a humid 70, you'd have the finest soil, and only the freshest compost," you say, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "You would be the most loved little worm there ever was."

When you draw back, Homelander's expression has become sly, like the proverbial cat that got the canary. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you down into his lap, nuzzling at your neck just to savor the way it makes you wriggle. "Theeere, was that so hard?"

Laughing, you twist to face him. "Well, would you love me if I were a worm?"

"Oh, absolutely not," he says, immediately feigning profound disgust, using his tongue to make a revolted noise afterwards. "Can't stand worms."

You give an outraged laugh, smacking him right in his thickly padded chest. "After all that? You asshole." He grins, holding you tight. "Relax, babe. You wouldn't know any better. You'd be a worm."

You should have said you'd feed him to the fish in Deep's aquarium.

Idc if she’s crazy smash

alexa play Shakira - She Wolf

A Smile From Hell

[Homelander x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite the amount of unpredictability The Homelander has, he still catches you off guard with something as small as a smile.

WC: 3576

Category: Angst, Supe!Reader {TW — Homelander for obvi reasons}

In honor of Season 4’s weekly releases, this one is for the Antony Starr girlies (and you @summerrivera777777)

『••✎••』

John fucking terrified you.

He terrified everyone, really.

He had the power to level an entire city block with a glance. He was strong enough to crush a man's skull with one hand and fast enough to catch a bullet. He was an unstoppable force of nature. He was The Homelander, and he was a threat to anyone who stood in his way.

But, the thing was...

You knew everything about him. Everything.

And he absolutely despised that, but there was nothing he could do to change it. You had seen him at his most vulnerable and pathetic. You had seen his humanity, it’s amazing he still has any after the way Vought has abused him, and you had seen his inhumanity.

Jessica, or Sister Sage, had confronted you on several occasions, trying to get you to tell her your secrets. She wanted the upper hand on her arch nemesis, the only one in the world who was a threat to her. It was her mission to end the reign of the superhero she hated most, and she was willing to do anything for it.

You could see right through her, and you didn’t need magnificent amounts of intelligence to do so. You could see the fear in her eyes. You could see the doubt in her face, hear the strain in her voice, feel her uneasiness when she was near him.

John knew it, too. He just simply chose to ignore it. He had grown used to being the scariest man in the room. It’s been that way his whole life, and it seemed it was going to stay that way.

But, despite all that fear, she came to you for answers. Again.

And this time, the question was a simple one. It was so simple, yet completely understandably complicated.

How are you allowed to live?

That was a question that stumped you. It took you a long time to grasp the meaning of it, the specific answer she was looking for.

After a few clarifications, you finally understood what she meant.

She wanted to know why John allowed you to live. She wanted to know why he hadn’t killed you. She wanted to understand why you were the only person alive after calling him by his name.

Not his stage name, his real name.

For being the most intelligent person on the planet, you’d think that she’d be able to understand it. I mean, the answer was right there, in front of her face. She didn't need to be a genius to figure it out; all she needed was a little more insight.

A little bit of understanding.

"Respect," you said, your voice soft. Your words were clear, though, and she heard them perfectly.

The confusion on her face was evident, as was her disbelief.

"What?"

"It's respect. Anyone I respect is someone that deserves my respect."

She snorted.

"Right," she said. "Like he could actually respect anything other than himself."

"He's capable of it if that's what you're thinking," you told her. "And this isn’t about him respecting me; it's about me respecting him."

She narrowed her eyes at you, her suspicion rising.

"Why would you respect him?" she questioned. "You're not blind; you know exactly who he is."

Yes, you did. You knew more than most, and compared to The Seven now, you probably knew the most. His actions? Completely unredeemable. He was, in fact, a monster; there was no arguing that. He was a horrible, twisted, monstrous individual; no one would deny it.

His actions weren’t excusable, but he had an explanation. A reason for why he was the way he was.

He wasn’t born a monster; he was turned into one. That… that was the respect part. You respected him because you respected his story. You respected his pain. You respected his anger.

You respected his past; anything after that was on him.

"I don’t like using stage names to those I respect enough, so I call him John. He allows it because he knows I don’t mean it the way others would if they used his name; it doesn't hold the same power with me."

She rolled her eyes at you.

"Same goes for you, Jessica; I have no desire to call you Sister Sage."

Her flinch was barely visible, but you still caught it. Again, what is intelligence if not knowing the chances of a particular outcome?

"I’ve noticed you don’t call Deep or that fire chick by their stage names, either."

You just smiled, leaving her to solve that answer for herself, and it didn’t take long at all. You knew the exact moment she came up with a conclusion. She was quite predictable, in that regard. Maybe you should’ve been the big-brained hero instead.

And now, you really should’ve been because when you turned down the hall, catching wind of the elevator doors opening, you knew he had listened to it all.

But you didn’t say anything, and you really didn’t say anything after a simple glance at him.

He was completely drenched in blood, a look that would terrify even the toughest of men. But not you, oh no, you were very used to that. He’s done a lot worse.

Besides, you were too distracted by the fact that the blood wasn't his. Too distracted by noticing how this time was different. He was smiling, but it wasn’t his usual cruel smile. This time, it was genuinely happy.

Relief, almost.

It reminded you of the night you two bonded. No, not that type of bond. The bond that told you both that you weren’t alone.

He had a friend, but he wasn’t really your friend. You don’t believe you could ever consider him one. Not really, not with the things he has done.

But, still, you were the closest thing he had to a friend. You were the closest he had to an equal, a person he could relate to. Jessica carried the same intelligence (obviously a lot more), but the similarities between the two of them stopped there.

You had a similar history but different outcomes.

And that reveal between the two of you happened that night. This was way back, even before Starlight joined. Back when The Seven was in its prime.

Stillwell threw a party, something she always loved to do before Teddy became her focus. It was the usual: people in fancy dresses and suits, lots of champagne and liquor.

The difference, however, was the main focal point. Usually, given Vought’s status, all of The Seven members were the main event. Everyone was mandated to wear their hero outfits. It was a great way to advertise and get people to buy more of the products.

The theme this time, however, wasn’t about the group. It wasn’t about any of you. For the first time in a long while, John wasn’t in the spotlight.

Due to this, Stillwell banned everyone from wearing their costumes. No capes, no spandex, no leather, no masks. Just suits and dresses.

It was nice, actually. A little break from the norm. It felt good to go a night without the tight leather on your skin. You were actually surprised at how well it was received.

The rest of the members of the group seemed to be having a wonderful time as well.

Except for one.

He was standing in the corner, glaring at everyone. Madelyn had an entire argument with him about the suit. You weren’t there, but you knew exactly how it went.

His costume was a part of him. It was a symbol. It was a mask. A representation. An embodiment of who he was. Without it, he was a naked target.

Madelyn clearly did not give a single shit. In the end, the argument resulted in the two of them getting into a screaming match, causing him to storm off in a fit of rage.

So, there he was, standing alone, seething at anyone who passed him. Madelyn won; of course, she did, and she didn't even bother trying to apologize. She wasn't sorry.

She was just mad that he refused to listen in the first place.

But, hey, that wasn’t your problem. You were enjoying yourself. The night was going pretty well; the alcohol was flowing nicely, and the music was just right. You were dancing and laughing and having a great time.

But, of course, things weren't always easy for you.

You weren’t expecting it to last long; you weren’t one to have good luck. You knew, deep down, that the night was going to come crashing down on you. You were just waiting for the ball to drop.

The ball dropped the moment you decided to go cheer up the sourpuss.

It was obvious the way his shoulders tensed, and his head tilted ever so slightly. He knew you were approaching. He was aware.

"Don't," he said.

He was clearly angry, and you weren’t smart enough not to push. This is where Jessica’s powers would have benefited you greatly.

You ignored his warning, walking up beside him, mocking his stance.

"You okay?" you asked, your tone soft and light, a hint of playfulness.

His eyes flicked over to you, and the glare he gave was terrifying. His eyes were so intense, and his teeth were clenched. You could see his jaw tensing.

He was a volcano, ready to erupt.

You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"I'm fine." Humorously enough, it sounded like the opposite.

"Really?"

He turned his head to look at you, his anger increasing by the second.

"Don’t you have anything better to do?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm choosing to talk to you."

He looked away from you, grumbling, "And why's that?"

"Because you’re ruining the party," you answered. "Miserable face and all."

He rolled his eyes. He actually does this a lot, believe it or not. It's the only expression he has besides anger that isn’t fake.

"And why do you care?"

You shrugged again. "I care about enjoying myself, and I can't do that when you're moping."

He turned his head towards you. He was not amused.

"Go find someone else to entertain yourself with.” He pointed behind him. "I’m sure Deep will be glad to show off his fish facts."

That one caused you to make the same face he had moments ago. The absolute look of disgust on your face was enough to bring a smug grin to his own.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Don't make me throw up, John."

The name.

It was a simple slip-up, nothing more. But, of course, it meant so much more. This was before everything, so it doesn’t seem likely that a slip-up like that wouldn’t result in consequences, but it secretly was a turning point.

He could've killed you.

He could've easily grabbed you and thrown you across the room, and no one would be able to comprehend what had happened until after you were unrecognizable.

He didn't, though.

No, instead, he stared at you, his face blank, and his mind processing. You were nervous, of course. You had no idea what was going on in his head.

After a minute, a look of realization came upon him, and you could see the exact moment the gears started turning.

Then, a simple hum fell from his lips. One said he wasn’t expecting it but was deciding whether to accept it.

Then, after a few seconds, his face relaxed. His jaw was unclenched, his eyes softened, and his eyebrows relaxed.

"Let’s have a chat."

Uh oh. That’s a code red—a sign of danger.

You were so done.

And yet, for some odd reason, you followed him. You don’t know why. It was a stupid move, in your opinion. You should've run while you had the chance. You should’ve listened and just punched fishlips or something.

You didn’t, though.

You followed him, allowed him to fly you somewhere private, and just waited. You waited for your imminent doom. You were going to die; you were sure of it.

But, for some reason, your death never came.

Instead, the two of you landed on the tower’s roof, the cold New York air hitting you hard. He had set you down on your feet and went all the way to the railing.

You stood awkwardly, waiting for him to turn around with those beams in his eyes, but they never came.

He was just looking out into the city, his back turned to you, his hands on the railing.

After a few minutes of silence, he turned his head, looking at you through the corner of his eye.

"Aren't you going to ask?"

Ask what? What was there to ask?

There were plenty of things to ask, actually, and yet you had no idea what the right thing to ask was. Because, again, even here, he was unpredictable and unreadable.

You didn't want to anger him; you knew that for sure. But you were also tired of his mind games. It was a constant battle of wit, and you were sick and tired of being left in the dust.

So, you chose something simple. Something easy, yet not so simple.

"Are you going to kill me?"

You wouldn’t be surprised if he turned around with a smile and answered yes.

He didn’t, though. Oh no, he stayed turned, staring into the city, his eyes searching. Searching for what you didn't know.

"No."

Simple and clear.

You didn't respond, and he didn't elaborate. It was silent, and it was cold, and it was a tense moment.

But you didn't leave. You just watched him, watched his movements. The way his shoulders hunched over, his head tilting down, the grips on the railing, the way his hair slowly became unstuck due to the wind.

You always thought his hair looked better when it wasn't slicked back, but this is the first time you've ever seen it that way. It was… it was nice.

Then, his shoulders relaxed, and his head straightened. He didn’t turn around, and he didn’t speak. He just looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing yours.

Even with a few strands of hair on his face, his eyes were so sharp and clear. So blue. So cold.

It felt like they were reaching deep into your soul.

It was terrifying. He was terrifying.

"Do you remember your parents?"

The question took you by surprise. It wasn’t what you were expecting, but then again, this whole encounter was the definition of unexpected.

"Yes. Why?"

His eyes scanned yours as if looking for a lie. Then, he turned back around, leaning on the railing.

"I can't remember mine," he said. "Sometimes I wonder if I even had them."

Oh. Oh. This was huge. This was a big one. You had to search deeply even to find out his actual name. Now, here he was, telling you of his past.

Of all people, he chose to tell you.

You didn’t know how to feel about that.

You were honored, yes. You were excited, definitely. But, most importantly, you were worried. Is this him letting you in? Or is it him preparing you for your demise?

It was an unknown territory, a field of landmines. You knew a lot about his past already, but now he was aware of the fact that you knew. He knows, and yet he is still giving you the information.

Why?

"I mean, it doesn't make sense. Everyone has parents, right? And I couldn't have been born out of nowhere. So, I must have had parents. A mom, a dad, some form of guardians."

His face was scrunched, and his eyebrows were furrowed. You could see the way his brain was working. He was really thinking about it, wondering how the pieces fit together.

He was struggling to make a connection, and he was mad at himself for not having it.

"I'm assuming your childhood wasn't the best," you said. You knew it was a risky move, joking about his past, but so far, he seemed to like the boldness and humor.

And he did, in fact, let out a snort.

"Understatement of the year."

You smiled but quickly stopped. It was a serious conversation, and smiling probably wasn’t the appropriate reaction.

Silence filled the space again, and he was back to thinking. He was trying; he was really trying. But he just couldn't.

It wasn't the fact that his parents were a mystery; he's come to terms with that. It was the fact that he couldn’t remember anything.

All he remembered was the torture, the pain, the experiments… nothing about how he got there. Nothing about the people before the scientists. Nothing about a home. And the fact that they were currently building a fake one for him made him so angry.

It was a mockery—a complete joke.

He felt all of these emotions and yet couldn't express them.

And he was frustrated. He was pissed off and tired and angry and sad and empty and-

"Did you rip off your tie?" Your eyes had caught sight of his bare neck, the black fabric missing.

It was the only way to pull him out of his head, and, to your surprise, it worked. You could see the moment he snapped back to reality, the moment he was pulled away from his mind.

"Yeah," he answered. "It was suffocating me."

You could tell.

His hair became more unkempt due to the wind. The strands of hair on his forehead were getting in the way, and it was getting annoying. Not for you, no, but for him.

For you, it was… humanizing. It made him seem a little less like a god.

He lifted his hand, his fingers gently combing through the locks. It was a struggle, a normal struggle that you've had with your own hair.

Plenty struggle with deviating the locks away from their desired location. You've had your own fair share of moments.

But this was the first time you'd seen him experience it. The first time witnessing him do something so simple and basic.

Such a human thing. It had you wondering what else he was capable of.

He sighed, his hand dropping back to the railing. Again, it is a normal thing to happen. But, it had you smiling, the corners of your mouth curving ever so slightly.

The action did not go unnoticed.

"What?" he asked, not even bothering to turn around.

You shrugged. "I've just never…"

Your mind kept changing images. His hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his jaw, his nose, his ears, his neck, his hand, his lips, his chin, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his skin…

Everything is listed in your mind, including the little imperfections and details that make him, well, him. This was the first time you saw him anything other than perfect.

The perfect monster he was, the god of all men. The man of the century, the one to take the world by storm. The strongest, the smartest, the best.

The symbol, the image, the mask.

The facade.

This was the first time you saw him as just a person. A human being. Just a regular guy.

"Sometimes I wonder how different life would be if you were…"

Normal.

The word was at the tip of your tongue. You could've said it; you should've said it. It was the truth. It was obvious.

But you couldn't.

He knew where your sentence was going, though. Of course, he did.

"If I was… what?" He still wanted to hear it. He was looking for validation, and he wanted it from you. His eyes were on you, his body turned, but there was this one odd thing.

A smile.

It wasn't his usual one. The one you were used to. The one that made everyone scared and uneasy. No, this was a real smile.

A soft, small one, but still a real smile.

A true smile. As if he knew the words you were going to say, as if he knew your thoughts, and he found them amusing.

You found him amusing.

And just because of that, you didn’t give him the validation.

"It’s fucking freezing out here," You coughed in hopes of successfully changing the subject. "I’m gonna get a jacket."

He was going to argue, but you were already walking off, telling him you’d take the emergency ladder down.

Nothing was spoken about that night. No words were exchanged.

But something had changed. Something had shifted. You weren’t quite sure what it was, but it was something.

So, seeing that genuine smile again in that elevator was a shock.

He had the same face as he did on that roof. It was that smile. That one specific smile.

Capable.

That's what it was.

He was capable.

He was capable of feeling and being human. He was capable of being something other than a monster.

He was capable.

All he said to you when you walked by was a simple goodnight. Something so small, yet so big. This time, those words seemed to have a little more meaning.

So, just to raise his unsettling mood, you winked and said, "Goodnight, John."

Again, a smile.

The smile.

It was hard to continue walking, and it was even harder not to turn around. But you did.

You did it knowing you were going to have a hard time sleeping. Knowing that, no matter what, you weren’t going to forget that smile.

The demon that still had a little bit of humanity in him.

A demon that was capable.

Hey I want to interact but can’t find your age anywhere. Am I missing it or are you not 18+?

I am 17 right now, but I'll be turning 18 soon. But anyone can interact with my blog, even if you are below the age of 18 because I don't really have the options of blocking underage people who read my content, if they don't interact, so anyone can read my stuff, but your still welcome to interact.