Lords of the Playlist

Authors note: The Powerpuff girls do not belong to me and as always, they have human appendages.

Greens ages variate between late teens/early twenties.


Track 43: Hysteria – Muse

"We could have been great enemies

but somewhere along the lines

I fell in love with you."

Butch felt like he was dreaming.

He was in a crowded room at some party hosted by one of their high school friends, and all he could see was her.

Her with her jet-black hair and piercing green eyes, and blood red lips that he definitely did not want a taste of.

She was Buttercup Utonium. His sworn nemeses, and the object of his fascination.

He stared across the room at her – the drink in his hand long forgotten – as he watched her laugh at something one of her friends had said, and he couldn't bring himself to look away.

Damn her. Damn her for messing with his head. He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Now that his thoughts had turned to her, he couldn't help but let himself get taken back to the moment this madness had all had started.

It had all started a few weeks ago during one of their annual fights behind the school one cloudy afternoon. It was a glorious fight, one where blood and dirt covered them head to toe, as they screamed profanities at each other, trying desperately to subdue the other.

It was a fight that he'd been winning too – all before she had managed to distract him.

He had managed to pin her down to the battered earth below him as he straddled her midsection, grinning like a mad-man, as he leered down at her prone from.

He had been getting ready to deliver the final blow when suddenly the sun had come out from behind the clouds and had illuminated her features.

He'd frozen mid-punch.

Her hair was splayed around her head like a dark halo, and despite all of the blood and dirt covering her, her skin had never looked so appealing to him. But the thing that had really stood out to him were her eyes.

The sun had lit up her eyes. Those lime irises were brighter than he had ever seen, almost as if someone had lit them up from inside her skull like a jack-o-lantern.

All and all, he had never seen anything so lovely.

She had then managed to get her feet in-between them and kick him in the chest, sending him sprawling back several feet, before jetting off into the sky in a flash of green, but that was beside the point.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since.

And to him that was the worst part, because he hadn't been thinking about how much he hated her like he usually did.

He had been thinking about how pretty she was.

He was brought back to reality as someone bumped into him, causing him to spill his drink. He snarled irritably and shoved the offending person away from him before glancing back over to where Buttercup was still standing with her friends.

Your heart. I want it. I want your heart Buttercup. Give it to me.

Inwardly, a part of him know how creepy he sounded, but he couldn't help it. He'd gotten a fleeting taste of her brand of madness and he was addicted.

Hopelessly and utterly addicted to her. Like some poor fucker wrapped up in the effects of a siren song.

It was like he was stuck in some sort of fever dream, he mused. One that he didn't necessarily want to wake up from.

Looking at her again, he decided that it would be okay if he never woke up again.

Then, almost as if she had actually heard him, she looked up and glanced his way, only to lock her gaze with his – lime green boring into forest.

They stared at each other for a minute – their gazes locked on one another – refusing to look away, before she blinked, and broke the connection. She shot him a coy smirk and flashed him a knowing wink, before turning and walking out of the room, leaving the noise and the chaos behind her.

Butch could hardly breathe as the shudder that ran through him rattled his bones and shook him to his very core.

He knew that look. He knew it better than anyone else.

She was challenging him.

If you want it – come and get it.

.

XxX

Give me your heart and your soul

And I'm breaking out

Last chance to lose control