#warren worthington imagine

[swanimagines]

X-MEN AO3 SERIESES

EVERYTHING FOR X-MEN

Kurt Wagner

Scott Summers

Alex Summers

Erik Lehnsherr

Warren Worthington III

Jean Grey

Hank McCoy

Storm (coming)

(Any of the other characters don't have any requests written nor pending as for now, so I'm unable to have serieses for them as AO3 requires you to have at least one oneshot written to be able to add it to a series, and I can't promise serieses for characters who don't have requests pending/I have no ideas of my own for them)

For anyone who's concerned, THESE ARE NOT ONESHOT COLLECTIONS, they are made using AO3's "series" feature.

If you want to be informed about new fics for X-Men or its individual characters, create an AO3 account and subscribe or bookmark any of those serieses listed above. There are buttons at the top right corner for those, or on top on mobile. I do not do Tumblr taglists anymore.

Also, if you're wondering, requests are ALWAYS open and you're welcome to leave one or multiple. Just remember to read my rules and pick a request type from this list.

#kurt wagner #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner imagine #scott summers #scott summers x reader #scott summers imagine #erik lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x reader #erik lehnsherr imagine #warren worthington iii #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #jean grey #jean grey x reader #hank mccoy x reader #xmen #x men #xmen x reader #xmen imagine #x men x reader #x men imagine

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Merry Christmas, Darling

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Summary: The Holidays are in full swing at the X Mansion, and as always, you are tasked with helping run the place. But things are a lot less dull with a certain winged mutant around.

Note: Christmas wouldn’t be complete without my favorite tree topper <3 Enjoy, friends.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 1.3k

Reader Is: Gender Neutral!

It was cookie season in the X Mansion. You and some of the other older students were in charge of overseeing what was always an absolute mess. It would be fun, you were sure, but a mess nonetheless. Already, the counters were covered in frosting, sprinkles, and flour.

“You’ve got something on your face, (Y/N).” Scott pointed out, motioning first to your cheek, but then realizing it was a broader problem.

“Yeah, and you’ve got frosting on your shirt. I’m gonna take care of it later.” You chuckled, rolling out another slab of sugar cookie dough so three of the younger girls could stamp shapes into it before you expertly transferred them to a pan to be baked.

Charles was really big on the Cookie Project, as he so called it. The students always baked hundreds of cookies for the holiday season. Some would be sent home with those returning to their families for the holidays, some would be kept at the mansion and enjoyed by the remaining students and staff, and the rest he delivered to children’s hospitals in the area.

You noticed Jean and Warren standing at the edge of the room. She offered him some quiet encouragement before sending him into the room, her eyes landing right on you. Ah yes, Warren Worthington. Most called him Angel. Some called him the Angel of Death, which never seemed to help his demeanor. He’d worked with Apocalypse earlier that year and had wound up in the care of the Professor after nearly dying in the fight at Cairo. His wings were back to normal, reverted to the feathers they had been originally, but he still frowned a lot. Him daring to come into the kitchen at all surprised you.

“Hey, um…Jean said I could help today?” He said, green eyes locked on the counter in front of you. The three little girls at your station stared at him. It came out of his mouth like it was a line he’d rehearsed. And he seemed nervous about it.

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, offering a smile. You motioned him closer and handed him an extra rolling pin just as Ororo handed you another bowl of cookie dough, freshly mixed at her station. “So I’m helping with the sugar cookies if you want to join me. It’s really easy. Just roll out the dough and then these three little gremlins get to cut shapes into them.”

“Oh. Okay.” He nodded, following your lead, his hands hesitant, movements slow. You began to wonder if he’d ever made cookies before. The answer seemed to be no, as he clumsily rolled out the dough.

He looked up, meeting your eyes for a moment before his cheeks burned red and he set the roller down. “Sorry, I’m not very good at this.”

“No, you’re doing fine.” You encouraged. “You really can’t mess it up, I promise. Even if it’s rolled out too thin, you can just ball it up and try again.”

“Mmm.” Warren nodded, taking your advice and giving it another go.

You both got back to it, rolling out several trays worth of tree-shaped cookies before watching them go off to the oven. You wiped the sweat from your brow, leaning against the counter. He stood there, unsure of what to do and looked to you for the answer.

“We have to wait until they’re done baking and then you can either help out with frosting and sprinkles, or be done for the day. Up to you.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “Is the frosting hard?”

“Nope. Doesn’t matter what they look like; they’ll all taste the same. The imperfections give them that…charm this place is so well-known for. Hand-made by some darling mutant children.”

“Well that’s one way to put it.” He chuckled, quiet for a long moment before smiling for what you were positive was the first time since he’d set foot on campus, and then said, “Thank you. For today. I’m glad I came down here.”

“Of course, Warren. It’s Christmas. And like it or not, you’re part of our messed up little family now.”

***

A year had passed since that day, the first time Warren had begun to open up since he’d joined the rest of you at Xavier’s. It was once again the holiday season, but Cookie Day had already come and gone. Instead, you were helping Kurt with the decorations. You had powers over plants, which meant it was easy to grow your own. They were all sitting in several large baskets throughout the common room, filling the room with that fresh evergreen aroma.

You were up on a stepladder, using a stapler to attach your pine garland to the doorways.

“Coming through!” Peter shouted, jostling your ladder as he ran past and sending you tumbling…right into Warren’s arms.

“Hey, Angel.” You grinned as he straightened you up onto your feet. “Perfect timing as always.”

“Funny meeting you here.” He quipped. “I was told you needed help?”

Kurt appeared beside him in a puff of smoke, holding the tree topper, a glittering golden star and pointing up, up, up at the top of the twenty-foot tall tree. “Would you mind putting this up there?”

Warren laughed. “Of course.” He took the topper from Kurt and slipped off his trench coat, spreading his magnificent wings to their full wingspan. You couldn’t help but swoon a little bit. They were impressive, to say the very least. He was impressive.

With a few flaps of his wings, Warren rose to the top of the tree, gently nestling the topper among the branches.

“Are you the tree topper this year, Worthington?” Peter quipped, a cookie in his hand.

“Shut it, Maximoff.” Warren laughed, touching down in front of where you stood, starry-eyed and rosy-cheeked. He met your eyes and his smile softened, eyes sparkling in the flickering fire light. “I’ll go grab us some.”

“O-okay.” You nodded, breath shuddering as you reached for the next decoration.

“Careful there, (L/N), you’re gonna start sprouting mistletoe.” Peter sped over and whispered it right in your ear, zipping away before you could hit him.

Kurt laughed before teleporting away, leaving just you and Warren in the foyer, as he emerged with two cookies. He was already biting the tip of the first tree off, handing you the second.

“So they still haven’t figured it out?” Warren asked, arm cresting around your waist and tugging you closer.

“Not as far as I know. But, you know, our teammates have never been the most…observant.” You grinned, pressing the tip of your nose to his before kissing the frosting from the corner of his lips.

You set down your cookies on the side table, your free arm rising to rest on his shoulder until he took your hand and spun you around in time to the soft music playing from Charles’ record player. He pulled you back into his chest, wings wrapping around you out of what he could only describe as instinct.

He chuckled at it, those wings of his. They seemed to have a mind of their own sometimes.

“What?” You asked, voice no higher than a whisper.

“Nothing, I just…” He glanced up and more laughter bubbled from his perfect pink lips. “Mistletoe.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Look.” He urged, looking up at the perfect strand that was winding all the way from one of your pine garlands, up the ceiling, and hanging down from the chandelier. “You know, if you want to kiss me that bad, you can just ask.”

“Oh, hush.” You shook your head, eyes fluttering shut as you closed the distance between the two of you, his lips pink and plush and soft. “Merry Christmas.” He raised a hand to your cheek, warm thumb stroking your cheekbone before he murmured, leaning in for another kiss, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

#warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii imagine #warren worthington imagine #angel #angel x reader #x men #x-men #x-men imagine #marvel #christmas

[michelle-is-writing]

Protector, Warren Worthington iii

Word Count: 4.5k~

I had been best friends with Warren ever since I met him.

Throughout our years in school, Warren and I had always stuck by each other's side. We hung out together, ate lunch with each other, and nearly forgot about all those people around us who would point out his wings to hurt him. It was like we were in our own little world, and in a way, we were.

We met in the second grade while our class was in the library. While looking for a book, I found Warren, huddled up behind a bookshelf in the elementary school library. He was red in the face and crying as he held his knees close to him. Instantly, I noticed his wings, of course - how could I not?

However, this didn't stop me from going up and asking him what was wrong. I can still remember the way his curls bounced against his scalp as he turned his attention away from his lap and up to me, quickly wiping away his tears to cover up his emotions. Despite being so young, he knew how to expertly do this as he pretended that nothing was wrong and he wasn't crying merely thirty seconds ago.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting beside him. I saw him tense up, his back straightening up as he laid his legs out in front of him instead of hugging them to his chest.

"Nothing," He instantly answered me, once again, pretending as if everything wasn't as it seemed.

Instead of saying anything more, I let the boldness I had as an eight-year-old takeover and pulled him into my arms, his figure becoming even tenser. Although, he didn't pull away, and instead, just stayed in that position until I spoke up.

"The kids are mean to me too," I told him, his breath catching in his throat. "And they shouldn't be because you seem pretty cool," I explained with a smile as he turned his eyes up to look at me again. "No one else here has wings, and they're really pretty."

From then on, we were practically inseparable. We weren't seen without each other, and despite bullies picking on us, we didn't let their words bother us. Even as we got older, nothing changed, and in spite of living in an expensive house with nearly triple the amount of space that my house was, Warren chose to stay at my place most nights. His parents didn't care about what he did, and my parents were more than happy to have him over.

When we reached high school, our friendship turned into an actual relationship between two lovebirds (no pun intended). Now we really were inseparable.

However, this changed one night when he went out to grab something from the store. I was sick, and needed medicine; so, being the thoughtful boyfriend he was, he decided he would go out and get some. I guess we underestimated how much mutants were hated in the area as Warren never came back.

Now it's been three months since he disappeared.

Every night since, I went searching for him, only to return to some hotel or hostel without him. I don't know what came over me tonight though. For all my life, I've always been told to avoid putting myself in dangerous settings, and yet, all of those lessons were cast away as I heard people screaming and hollering down an empty and dark alleyway while in Munich. My searching had taken me far away from home, but I wasn't going to stop until I found Warren.

Following the sounds of excitement and fury, I found a hidden door that led to what seemed to be a fighting ring. People surround the caged area, but I push through them, ignoring their waving arms with money held high. I stop at the metal fence separating the people from the ring, only to gasp in horror as my eyes fall over the white, fluffy wings I've loved for many years.

"Warren..." I hear his name being whispered through my lips, tears forming in my eyes as I look at his hurt and pained figure. Fighting for his life against another mutant, he spits blood from his mouth as he wipes away the blood forming on the cut across his cheek. The tattered t-shirt he wears, the same thing he wore the night he disappeared, barely hangs onto his shoulders by a few strips of fabric, the band emblem on the front no longer being recognizable. His arms have fresh bruises forming all along the skin while fading bruises covers the visible parts of torso. How the hell did he get here?

Too shocked to move, I watch as Warren throws a punch at the other mutant, only to hit the fence in front of him, the silver eliciting sparks as soon as Warren touches it. "Shit!" He yells while the blue mutant seemingly teleports to different parts of the cage, only to receive the same treatment as Warren did. Hearing his voice after so long makes me nearly choke on the air in my throat, the tears now falling freely. Seeing Warren makes me want to rip through the fence and save him, but seeing that the metal fence is electric, I can't simply do that.

Blinking the oncoming tears away, I glance in every corner of the underground hideaway and try to find something that might resemble a control panel. It isn't until I see a switch box on what seems to be a surveying floor that I begin running to it, successfully climbing up the steps to the higher level and stopping in front of it. Gazing back to the fighting ring, I see Warren shouting at the dodging mutant while people standing around the cage yell out vile words of hate and absolute greed.

"Warren!" I shout his name as loud as I can, placing my hand on the handle to the electrical switch. Instantly, his head darts toward the voice calling his name, every inch of his being relaxing once he sees me. I smile at him before nodding, his eyes following my hand as it begins pushing the handle downward. Just before the electricity goes out, I see Warren's dirty wings perk up just as the entire underground arena goes pitch black.

In the darkness, the people's screams die down while the clinging sound of the fence being ripped apart follows it. Mere seconds pass before I familiar arms wrap around me and tug me close to their body, Warren's wings flapping rapidly as he lifts us into the air and to the hidden door I entered through. Once we're outside, we quickly run as far as we can before stopping in another alley, far away from the other one.

As soon as we stop, Warren wraps his arms around me and pulls me close to him, his lips immediately attaching to mine in a fervent and much-needed kiss. His hand on my waist never falters in its hold on me, and instead, it squeezes the flesh there as if he were testing if I was real or not.

"I'm here," I tell him, sliding my hands down his face as endless tears fall from his cheeks and onto my hands. Staring into his tear-filled eyes, I can't help but cry tears of happiness as well. "I'm right here."

Nodding, Warren folds his wings behind him, slightly wincing at the pain of them conforming against his back. "Fucking hell," He mutters, placing his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. A few seconds pass of him just holding me before he kisses me once more. "I've missed you so fucking much."

Our sweet reunion is cut short by a black vehicle slamming on their brakes at the end of the alleyway. "Warren," I say his name, concerned at the sight in front of us. Warren turns around, only for his wings to burst out again, shielding me from seeing anything. Peeking under one of the long feathers, I see two men leave the vehicle before one of them points at Warren.

"That's him!" The man yells, "Get him!"

In an instant, Warren swings around and wraps his arms and wings around me, protecting me from the flurry of oncoming bullets. What appears to be eight shots sounds throughout the alley before the same car speeds off again as Warren begins to topple over. Was he shot?

Trying to catch him before he falls on his face, I wrap my arms around Warren and hold him up for a few seconds, only for his size to take over mine and fall to the side. Landing on his back with me on top of him, Warren waves his hand at me while shaking his head, his eyes shut. "I'm fine," He mutters, his voice now suddenly tired and drained.

Eyes wide and concerned, I turn him onto his side and look over him to see blood pouring from his wings. Between the layers of feathers, I find what seems to be four bullet wounds, causing me to practically lose it as the crimson liquid touches my hands. "No, no, no, no, no," I mutter uncontrollably as I place him onto his back. "Warren, Warren," I repeat his name, running my hand against the side of his face, his own blood smearing across his flawless cheek. "Warren, don't go to sleep!"

At my heartbroken plea, Warren opens his eyes, frowning at the sight of tears pouring from my eyes. "Don't cry, my love," He begs, his voice even weaker than before. He lifts a hand to my face, doing the same to me just as I had done to him. I quickly place my hand over his, holding it there as I feel the warmth in his skin begin slowly leaving it. "I... I love you..." He whispers, his eyes closing once again.

Just like a few seconds ago, I feel every ounce of sanity leave me as I watch the love of life wither away in front of me. "Warren, don't do this to me!" I shout, the tears now falling like a waterfall. I could barely manage not seeing him for the three hellish months when he was missing - I can't live the rest of my life without him.

"Warren!" I scream his name again, utter desperation being the only recognizable thing in my voice. Releasing a sob, I push my head against his chest and hear his still-beating heart. However, I know that if I don't get him to a hospital within the next few seconds, his heart won't continue beating like that. But what hospital will even help us?

"Ma'am?" I hear a woman's soft voice coming from the end of the alley, causing me to jerk my head up and see a blonde woman standing twenty feet away. Concerned, she walks closer to me before kneeling beside Warren and me, the knees of her pants becoming stained with his spilled blood on the alley ground. His wings are the first things that catch her focus, making me want to hold him closer.

"Please, don't hurt him," I beg her, my hand holding his hand a bit tighter. "He-he's a-" The woman cuts me off.

"He's a mutant," She points out, looking over at me. Still crying, I nod once, watching as a small smile appears on her face. Within a short second, the fair skin she once had transforms into blue flesh with darker blue scales, her eyes turning yellow and green while her hair changes into a much brighter orange/red.

"It's okay," She assures me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "I am too, and I can help."

Her words, not to mention her sudden change of looks, shock me, but I nod at her, ready to do anything this woman says if it means saving Warren.

"Where's his family?" She asks me, her hand remaining on my shoulder as she kneels on the ground beside me.

"Me," I quickly answer her, tears still falling from my eyes. "I am his family."

"You're not a mutant," She points out, shaking her head with squinted eyes as she looks at me a bit confused. "And you care for him?"

"He's my best friend, the love of my life..." I answer her, my heart clenching as the words leave my lips. "Please, you have to help us!"

The woman nods, giving me a small, encouraging smile. "Kurt!" She abruptly yells, a teenage boy with blue skin and carvings appearing behind her with a blue puff of smoke following. I instantly recognize him as the other mutant in the pin with Warren earlier, and in spite of this, he doesn't try to get back at Warren while he's down.

Pulling his hand to get closer, she makes him get on our level before wrapping his arm around her and me. The stranger, Kurt, then wraps his other arm around Warren's almost lifeless body and tugs him a bit closer as well. "Get us all to the mansion nurse's ward - now!"

With the woman's last words, Kurt somehow does so, causing us to suddenly be in a nurse's station only a second later. This all confuses the living hell out of me, but with Kurt having a tail and red eyes, and not to mention blue skin like the lady, I don't know if I should be questioning the normalcy of anything at the moment.

Immediately, three scrubbed nurses rush up to where we are and pick Warren up from the ground. "He was shot, multiple times," The blue woman quickly explains, standing up from the ground. "He'll need blood, and you need to act quick."

Listening to her, the three nurses nod before taking an unconscious Warren back to what I could guess is surgery. Numb, I sit on the cold tile floor as I reach my blood-covered hands up to cross my arms and hold myself, my eyes stuck on the swinging doors that Warren was just carried through. Beside me is Kurt as he places a consoling hand on my shoulder, giving me a small smile.

"He vill be alright," Kurt assures me, his words helping me out a little. Giving him a small nod of my head, I take his held-out hand and stand up with him. "That is Raven, by the way," He adds as the woman from before moves to stand in front of me, taking my hand in hers despite it stained crimson.

"This is the Xavier mansion," She explains to me, "You're safe; we won't hurt you."

At her words, I nod. "I know," I tell her, giving her a small smile. "I trust you."

Smiling back at me, Mystique's eyes flicker behind me before her mouth slightly parts, her hand holding mine slightly faltering. "Who is this, Raven?" I hear a soft British voice speak up, causing me to slowly turn around and see a man in a wheelchair now in front of me. His eyes quickly catch my blood-covered hands and arms, shock taking over him. "Dear heavens, what happened to you, dear?"

I go to answer him, but my voice defeats me in doing so. Instead, Mystique speaks for me. "Charles, her and a fellow mutant were shot at in an alleyway when Kurt and I were passing by. He has wings, that's where most of the bullets hit him," She explains to him, "She has no ill will toward any of us - she just wants her boyfriend to survive."

A few seconds pass before the man, Charles, nods, staring at me with a frown. "I'm sorry to hear that, love," He tells me, giving me a single nod. "Raven, help her get cleaned up and fetch some fresh clothes for her as well," With that, Charles wheels himself out of the room and into the hallway where he enters the room at the end.

In a puff of blue smoke, Kurt leaves Mystique and me, letting us head to what I presume is her room where she wets a washcloth and begins rubbing the drying blood from my arms. "He will be alright," She tells me, saying Kurt's exact words from moments ago. "Trust me."

I nod at her words, but I can't believe them myself. What if Warren isn't okay? What if one of the bullets when through his spine and he's now paralyzed? I couldn't see all of his wounds so I don't know where they all hit him, minus the few I could see in his wings. What if the nurses and doctors can't do anything and he dies on the table? I can't bear to lose him - not again.

With my arms their original (s/c) color, I change into a pair of pajama pants and matching top with a school emblem given to me by Raven before walking with her to Charles' office. Stopping in front of his desk, Mystique and I watch as the man from earlier sits at his desk with his attention stuck on the novel stuck in his hands. However, it doesn't take long for him to notice our presence and put the book down with his glasses following.

"(Y/n), is it?" Charles asks me, turning his attention up to me. Surprised, I hesitantly nod as he speaks up once more. "No need to worry, dear," He assures me with a smile despite my caution. "I'm able to read minds and communicate through them as well," Charles further explains. "Raven and I were talking while she helped you with your arms and hands,"

"I understand you've been through a lot in the past hour, so I won't force you to talk about it," Charles tells me, making me let out a small sigh of relief. "But I am a bit concerned over the fact that you were in such a predicament that your partner was shot," Holding his hand out, Charles waits for me to place my hand in his. "I won't scour through your brain and look at everything you've ever seen or done - I just want to see what all transpired tonight."

Hesitating, I bite my lip in thought before shakily putting my hand in Charles, his touch being warm and welcoming. I feel as Charles does what he told me he would do, the images of the past month flashing before my eyes. Warren's disappearance, me finding him, and helping him get out are all shown before me like a home movie shot from my perspective. Because of this, I gasp a little, shocked at Charles' ability to do such a thing.

Slowly slipping his hand from mine, Charles' eyebrows furrow in thought before flashing his eyes up to mine, confusion written all over them. "You're a human with no powers or anything," He points out, slightly pausing in his words. "And yet, you've always loved a mutant?"

His words come out as a question, but to me, they're a true statement. I love Warren - I always have - and nothing about him will ever change that. "He's human just as I am," I tell Charles, giving him a small smile. "but, with wings," I further add, my smile growing sad as I lightly shrug. "How could I not love my angel?"

My words washing over him, Charles smiles back. "I like you," He tells me, Raven putting a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Your friend, I think he'll pull through. After all, he has a great incentive."

Because of Charles' words, I smile and give him a nod of thanks just as a question rises to my mind. "What... what is this place?" I ask, gesturing to the overall building. I know it has to be an establishment of some sort going by the built-in medical wing and wide hallways.

"This," Charles states, pointing his finger to the ceiling while his eyes remain on mine. "Is Xavier's a school for gifted youngsters," He informs me before nodding his head once. "This is a school specialized for children with mutations such as Warren, or Kurt, whom you met earlier."

Furrowing my eyebrows together, another question comes to mind. "Why have I never heard of this place before?" I ask, receiving a small smile.

"We're a relatively small school," Charles simply explains, "Ultimately, if your boyfriend would want to join, he could - now, you're not a mutant, but the unique and understanding attitude you give off, I'm sure we could work something out for you too."

His words make my cheeks turn pink in response to the compliment as I thank him, turning my eyes toward the ground as I try to fight the ever-growing smile on my lips. Just as I do this, I see Charles put a hand to his forehead as his eyebrows furrow before looking over at Mystique with a smile. "Raven, take her back to the medical ward," he tells the fiery-haired woman. "It seems that her friend was easily operable and now they're just waiting for him to wake up."

Almost immediately, I turn and follow Mystique out of the room with my pace just a little faster than hers. Soon enough, we walk through the doors and directly to the beds where only one of them is occupied, and the sleeping body in it is Warren's. The window behind him shines down on him with the bright and early morning sun highlighting his now washed and pure white wings that lie behind him. The sight is a complete contrast to what I saw only an hour ago with the almost black sky darkening everything around us and only emphasizing the dirt and grime that covered Warren's perfect wings.

"We told you he'd be okay," I hear Mystique's gentle voice beside me say, causing me to nod with an onrush of tears rising in my eyes. They were right, and my Warren is okay.

Moving closer to him, I sit beside Warren on the bed and take his hand in mine, his unconscious body unresponsive toward my touch and his perfect face never changing. "I'll let you two be alone," Mystique speaks up before doing as she says and walking back toward the door. Once I hear the swinging door shut, the tears residing in my eyes quickly fall over the barrier and down my face as I try to hold in my sobs.

When you love someone, you never want to see them in pain or hurting, and when they're laid up in a hospital bed with consciousness being a waiting game, it hurts you. It physically hurts you to the point where your chest feels heavy with dread, and your stomach feels sick with worry. It's terrible, and I wish there was something I could've done to protect Warren from getting shot.

"I'm so sorry," I sob, turning my eyes away from him and toward the floor. Raising my free hand to cover my mouth as the sobs tumble out, I don't notice Warren's hand gently squeezing mine until I feel the bed beneath me slightly moves.

Immediately looking back over to him, I see his eyes flutter open and quickly dart to me, confusion taking over his tired face as soon as he sees my crying form. "Why..." Warren slowly starts speaking, his voice raspy and scratchy with sleep. "Why are you crying, love?" He finishes his question, now trying to sit up.

"No, no, baby," I usher him to continue lying flat, moving to stand on my knee on the side of his bed before pushing his shoulders back down onto the mattress. Despite this, he still doesn't listen and moves to wrap his arms around me before pulling me fully onto the bed and holding me to his chest. Finally, Warren does lie back down, but in a matter of seconds, his wings are fluttering around me like any other time I'd be on top of him. My eyes quickly catch sight of the now bandaged wounds, and now that I get a better look, I see that there was one more bullet-wound than I initially thought. "Warren, your stitches!"

"It's okay, love," He sleepily responds, leaning his head back to look up at me with a happy face. "I'm so damn happy to see you," Warren confesses, his eyes gazing over me as if I were a precious gem.

If it weren't for the nurses cleaning the dirt from his face and body, I wouldn't have been able to assess the full damage the fighting ring did to him. Above his left eye is a healing bruise that covers a majority of the side of his forehead, and his bottom lip is split, making it swollen. On top of all of that, his green eyes are sunken in and practically taken over by dark circles.

Still, he continues staring at me, acting as if nothing is bothering him until a look of confusion fall over his face. "Now, are you going to tell me why you were crying?" Warren repeats his question from earlier, making me shake my head as more tears rise to my eyes.

"You almost died, Warren," I inform him, his face still unchanging. "I've been without you for three damn months, and the night I get you back, I almost lost you again - for good!" I add on, raising a hand to wipe away my fast-falling tears.

However, Warren beats me to it and places his hands against my cheeks where he gently holds me, his face now soft. I guess he hasn't assessed the severity of the situation. That, or he hasn't taken the time to fully realize that he has stitched-up bullet wounds adorning his wings.

"I'm sorry," Warren apologizes after a few seconds of silence. Despite expecting those two words, it still doesn't hit me any easier as I'm sobbing once again, this time, into Warren's chest.

Holding me close, Warren waits a few moments before moving his hands back to my face and turning me to look at him directly. As soon as he gets the chance, Warren places his rough lips on top of mine, the skin chapped from the harsh things he's been put through. Despite crying moments ago, my tears ultimately stop as I come to the realization of how much I've missed the feeling of Warren's lips on mine. Chapped or not, his lips are the pure definition of Heaven, and when they're on top of mine, it's like pure ecstasy.

Pulling away for air, I pant above Warren as he does the same, his hands now sliding down to grip my waist once again. "I love you," He tells me, "And I've missed you- God, how I've missed you," Warren adds, shaking his head as a small, almost unnoticeable tear falls down his cheek. "Each day was hell without you, and I can't be without you, not again."

Smiling at him, I lean down once more and peck his soft cheek before nuzzling my head next to his on the pillow, his hold on me never changing in the slightest. "You won't have to, Angel," I tell him, watching his lips quirk up in a smile at my nickname for him. Deciding on leaving the explanation of where we're at for later, I close my eyes alongside Warren and fall asleep, finally able to relax knowing he and I can be together with no one to stop or hurt us.

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben jones #ben hardy x fem reader #ben hardy fluff #roger taylor imagines #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor fanfiction #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii imagines #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington imagines #warren worthington iii imagine #warren worthington iii

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Could you please do Warren Worthington x fem!reader, were she is the daughter of Charls Xavier who is for some reasons against their relationship. I hope that's okay amd thank you 😊💖

A/N: I'm so sorry you had to wait so long. My emotanal state isn't the best right now and I cry over nothing. Even during the writing process here I shed some tears. Stupid period hormones. Anyway, enjoy!!!

Hold my Girl

Pairings: Warren Worthington ||| x fem!reader, Charles Xavier x daughter!reader

Warning: angst, the 'I don't like your boyfriend' talk, fluff

Charles watched his daughter clutch her stomach as she laughed at a joke told by her boyfriend. He wanted the smile threatening to etch its way onto his lips but his joy over your happiness was dulled due to who your boyfriend was. Warren Worthington the third. In the beginning he wasn’t irritated by him. He was broody and had some emotional outburst but nothing what a little therapy couldn’t fix. He worked on his near-death experience and his childhood trauma for a long time. His lone wolf personality slowly turned and he found a friend group. His daughter’s friend group.

Charles wasn’t concerned first. You were hanging around each other with your friends not far behind. But bit by it the friendship turned to something more. One day his little girl came into his office with a big grin on her face and a spring in her step. He looked up from the papers he was grading, “How was your day?” His daughter smile became wider, “It was fantastic!”

Charles raised an eyebrow at her. “I had a study group meeting today. We studied for our next math test. After I stayed in the library because I remember you saying you bought new books and I wanted to check them out.” She took a deep breath and smiled even impossible brighter. “I hadn’t realised Warren stayed too till he asked me about the book I was holding.” Her eyes flittered down to the ground. He could feel the light embarrassment.

Charles eyes widened as his fear became reality. “NO!” His daughter jumped at his sudden outburst. She had seen him this angry only a handful of times. But never directed at her. “You will not date Warren. He is still new.” He wanted to add he doesn’t trust him. After all he worked for Apocalypse.

His daughter’s eyes filled with tears. Her lips trembled. She tried to control her emotional outburst better then him. Charles took a deep breath to calm his raising thoughts. He never wanted to raise his voice ever at his daughter. His mother did it too much and he knows all too well what it feels like to be on the receiving side.

“Darling, I didn’t want to raise my voice. I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” His eyes shined with unshed tears. A small nod from his daughter signalled him he could go on, she was listening. “I don’t know him all too well. I feel his inner turmoil and his dark mind. But I trust you and your judgement.” Both cracked a teary smile. “I will not be okay for a long time during your courtship.” His daughter huffed and grimaced. “How old are you really? Dad you read too much 19th century poetry.” Charles chuckled at her stabbing. “As I was saying, I will not be on your boat at first. But over time I might warm up to you two dating.”

His daughter nodded slowly. “You don’t trust him yet, do you?” Charles nodded his head in guilt. “Yes, I don’t trust him yet. And I won’t hesitate to expel him from the school if he hurts you.” His daughter’s eyes widened. “But if he proves me wrong and I see his progress and change in demeanour, maybe I will grow to tolerate him.”

His daughter’s sad face turned joyful and she rushed over to him. She leaned down and hugged his shoulder. “Thank you, daddy.” She kissed his cheek before walking out of his office. Before the door closed she stuck her head in to wave him good by and send him a flying kiss. He stretched his arm over his head as if he would catch the imaginary kiss. She giggled as he pressed his hand over his heart.

A few hours later the telepath heard a hesitated knock on his door. “Enter!” for a few seconds the door didn’t open. Charles wanted to repeat his words louder but the door opened and the boy he had discussed with his daughter entered the room.

A short look into his mind was all it took for Charles to know why he was here. “Sit down Warren.” The boy in question nodded shyly. “My daughter told you about our little chat?” Warren nodded again. “And you understand my reasons?” Warren sat up straight before nodding again. “Yes, sir. I understand. I wanted to talk to you and tell you I will respect your daughter. I worship the ground she walks on. She is my saving grace. I won’t destroy her light. And if I do, please sir, let me go insane. I will rip my wings out with my bare hands if I ever hurt her.”

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves. “She was the first one I saw when I woke up after you rescued me. I wanted to be friends with her so bad. I was drawn to her like a moth to the flames. I think I love her. I never got the chance to feel like I felt like this before. I see the future when I’m around her. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

Charles nodded slowly. A small smile playing on his lips. “maybe I was incorrect. Maybe one day I would even trust you.” Warren’s eyes widened. “Now go, she is waiting for  you.” The boy sprung up. A string of fast thank you’s echoed after him as he left Charles office.

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#warren worthington the third #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader

[scarletttries]

Falling for a Fallen Angel (Warren Worthington/Angel Request)

Pairing: Warren Worthington/Angel (X-Men) x Reader

Rating: Explicit, description of reader's first time having sex, unprotected sex (be sensible in real life), mention of scars.

Word Count: 2.5k

Request: "Can I have a warren worthington x reader where it's their first time and they kiss their scars/wings/mutant marks all over pls make it extra fluffy with caramel!"

Author's Note: Thank you for another sweet request my lovely! I did my best to make this extra fluffy with caramel so I hope you really enjoy it and I appreciate your patience!:)

Falling for a Fallen Angel (Warren Worthington)

Nights at Xavier's mansion were always quiet, the professors out travelling to mutants across the country, or on their way to deliver the latest in mutant diplomacy to the White House. But in the holidays when those with nearby families went back to their real homes, the house was near silent, like the snow falling across the ground absorbed any stray noise from the expansive home. In the past it'd felt too quiet for you, passing your time idly, waiting for your friends to return, but this year was very different; you had your own Christmas angel to keep you entertained.

It had only been a few months since Warren Worthington had moved into the school, converted to the mutant cause after his run in with the Apocalypse, and as the first person to welcome him to the school, ignoring the cautious looks of the other students as you gave him a friendly tour, he had taken an immediate shine to you. It had only taken only a month of him following alongside you to every class, meal and study session until he couldn't hold back his growing feelings anymore. Sat on a soft blanket by the lake, watching you effortlessly manipulate the edge of the water with the movement of your fingers. As your power flowed the curved lines etched into your skin from birth ebbed with waves of blue light, a sight you'd once wished you could hide until the Professor taught you it was just another part of who you are, and that was nothing to ever cover up.

"You're really pretty." Warren sighed out at the sight, before catching himself with a nervous laugh, "I mean the light on you, it's really pretty when you do that. Not that you aren't always pretty, I just.." he paused for a second, spurred on by the shy smile growing across your face, "I just really like it, and I really like you (y/n)."

He hadn't exactly been subtle with the way he felt, but that didn't stop the butterflies in your stomach at his confession, heart beating faster as you leaned forward until the gap between your lip disappeared into a gentle, longing kiss. You could feel the twitch of his lips against yours as he fought back a smile, hand finding yours across the blanket, threatening to never let go.

---

"What are you thinking about (y/n)?" Warren called out from over your shoulder, breaking you out of your spell as you realised you'd been drawing swirling shapes in the lake from your bedroom window as you reminisced.

"I was just thinking about our first kiss actually." You flirted, scooting off the windowsill and onto your feet as the angel crossed the threshold of your room, shutting the door softly behind him.

"Oh yeah, about how sooth and charming I was, bravely making the first move," He smirked, strutting towards you until his arms found your waist, wrapping around them as you corrected him,

"I'm pretty sure I made the first move. You were busy stuttering about how pretty I am." He laughed at your brutal honesty, nodding in defeat as he conceded,

"You're right, sorry, I was thinking about our next kiss." His lips crashed to yours before you could reply, stifling a laugh as he pulled you against the soft wool of the jumper covering his chest. Your arms found his neck as you pulled him closer, letting your lips dance against his before nuzzling your noses together,

"Now that was smooth." You praised, watching his beaming expression as his hands trailed down the outside of your thighs.

"I have my moments." He rebuffed with a wink, bending down quickly and lifting you with ease, his hands guiding your thighs to wrap around his waist. His arms encompassed you as he gave you a twirl, the sound of your shared laughter quickly cancelling out the silence that filled the room before it. You looped your arms around his neck, pulling your lips together as he gradually settled onto the edge of your bed, your weight covering his lap. Your chest leaned against his as the kiss grew hungry, need emanating from you both as you seemed to realise simultaneously that you all but had the house to yourselves for the first time. Usually the place was overrun with kids and teachers, time between training barely giving you time to squeeze in make out sessions before you had to return to your separate rooms. But with the time and space to spend all night together, you knew you wanted to finally feel all of Warren.

His hands seemed to tremble slightly as they shifted slowly up the outer edge your thighs, his thoughts matching yours as he hovered just shy of cupping your bum, waiting for your lead. In response you played softly with the edge of his shirt, lifting the corners slowly, waiting as he raised his arms, letting you remove it entirely. You quickly tossed it on the bed behind you, confident it would be your new favourite pyjama top after tonight. You let your eyes trail along his chest, definitely muscles marked by a constellation of scars, a permanent reminder of the difficult times that had lead him to you. Leather straps held firm around his broad shoulders, a design made just for him to allow his wings to fit comfortably under his clothes, framing his strong arms. He was beautiful, losing yourself in tracing your fingertips over his scars, barely noticing his eyes falling to his lap, his arms crossing over himself in defence.

"I know i'm not great to look at." He sighed out softly, eyes not daring to meet yours. If they had, he would have seen nothing but pure adoration as your fingertips moved to his chin, lightly tipping it upwards until your stares met, your lips finding his with a reassuringly gentle pressure.

"Warren Worthington, you are beautiful, every single part of you." You cooed, your kind words cutting through the insecurity until a smile he couldn't fight crept across his face.

"Yeah?" He beamed back, watching you intently as you lowered your head to his chest, lips mapping a path across his scars, "Every. Single. Part." You echoed, each word punctuated with a sweet kiss that had him sighing gently at the contact. You paused as your lips brushed the edge of his leather harness, glancing at his face once more to gauge his reaction. Warren's eyes fluttered shut, lips parted slightly in his blissful trance, nodding gently for you to continue. Working slowly, allowing for a changing mind in an instance, your fingers loosened the symmetrical buckles, earning a palpable sigh of relief from the angelic man before you. The straps fell from his shoulders with a push, clattering along the ground with a clang that made you jolt against Warren's lap. He groaned at the contact, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest as his wings began to unfold behind him.

The way the light danced on the unfurling feathers had your breath catching in your throat, the radiant white backdrop flecked with iridescent silver, swirling like the reflection of the stars on a swaying ocean. You watched as they spanned almost the width of the room, seeming to go on forever until finally he flexed at their full length, the defined muscles of his chest tensing and relaxing at the unrestricted movement. Without a thought you reached for the feathered expanse around you, trailing your fingertips over his wings for the first time. It was like delving your hand into liquid silk, the satin feel of the blooms softer than anything you'd felt before. You followed the pattern of the feathers outwards, hand pressing into the heavenly extremity, earning a guttural groan from Warren as you combed your fingers through them.

"That feels, really nice, (y/n)." He moaned, his hips starting buck against yours of their own accord, the intimacy of the moment stirring a warmth deep in his core.

"Your wings are so beautiful, I'm sorry you ever felt you had to hide them away. They're incredible, you're incredible Warren." You spoke sincerely, the admiration for his form clear in your awestruck gaze. You watched the easy smile light up his face as his grip on you tightened, and then all at once you were in the air, hovering above your bed as his wings supported you both with ease. His lips moved to yours as you floated in space, like two snowflakes hanging indefinitely on a breeze, threatening never to land on the cold ground below.

"If i'm incredible, it's only because you make me feel that way." Before you could form a coherent thought, let alone a response, he captured your lips in a hungry kiss, bodies slowly drifting back to the bed below, until he lay you down, his chest pressed to yours as his wings began to wrap around your body, their softness enveloping you on all sides. His hands quickly found the hem of your shirt, slowly drawing it up to reveal more of the etched lines that your mutation granted your skin. You sat up, allowing him to pull the fabric away, his loving gaze raking along your chest before his lips found their way there too, grazing each of the precious marks with a kiss as he lowered himself down your stomach.

"I love so many things about you (y/n)," He mused between soft love bites along your flesh, drinking in the content sighs you released with each one, "I love your kindness, and your brains, and your body, and every pretty mark on your skin." He paused at the waistband of your shorts, fingers hovering just along the edge, sending sparks through your core as they brushed lightly over your stomach. His big, blue eyes looked up hopefully, wanting to kiss every part of you, and make you feel as good, as special, as you make him feel everyday. You nodded, a deep sigh coursing through you as his fingers hooked inside the hem, ache building between your legs as any fabric covering them was slowly dragged away. Hunger burned in Warren's eyes as he looked down at you exposed, vulnerable, desperate for his touch and all his for the taking. He pushed your knees slightly apart, drinking in the sight of your centre, the edge of his wings brushing over the inside of your thighs, making you squirm with the delicate sensation. The white feathers settled there, drawing soft circles on the sensitive flesh, as Warren leaned down between them, planting a tentative kiss on your tingling clit. He smiled at the reaction the slight touch drew, your eyes falling shut as your hips bucked off the mattress.

"Do that again?" You breathed out, missing the delighted look in Warren's eyes as his tongue replaced his lips, licking along your sensitive bud and watching closely at the effect he had on you. He could taste your excitement growing, slick building between at your entrance with every suck and swirl of his tongue, the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted. He positioned one finger teasingly at your entrance, gathering your excitement on his digit before pushing inside you slowly, watching for your reaction. Every sensation was magnified by his touch, the dance of his tongue in time with the incredible feeling of his finger inside you, the growing wetness and steady rhythm making your core tense of its own accord. The feather-light tickle of his wings inside your thighs had them trembling as he moved, the satin perfection of each brush drawing noises out from you that you'd never made before. It felt incredible and overwhelming and sensitive all at once, as the pressure inside you built to a peak you'd never felt anything like, your whole body seeming to vibrate all at once.

"Warren!" You cried out happily as the pleasure washed over you, feeling yourself tighten and clench around him as he hummed greedily against you, licking up the rush of wetness that came with your release. You felt euphoric, reaching your hands to grasp Warren's face and pulling it flush with yours, unable to fight back the beaming smiles as your lips met again.

"That was amazing." You sighed out, hands all but shaking as you slowly undid the button on jeans, desperate to feel more of him inside you, to help him feel the same incredible release. As you freed him of the fabric straining against his hard desire, his lips moved to your neck, kissing and sucking softly, as he kicked off his pants to leave nothing between the two of you.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, as he looked down at you, needing to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

"I want you Warren, and i want my first time to be with you." You replied sweetly, trailing your fingers over his chest until you reached his manhood, wrapping your palm around him and pumping the length a few times as he nodded in agreement, lips returning to the sea of marks across your chest as he lined himself up with your dripping entrance. "Let me know if it hurts and we can pause or stop." He said warmly, waiting for your agreement before he began to push himself into you. You felt warm and full as his hips bucked against yours, his wings encircling your bodies until you were in a perfect cocoon of soft, glistening feathers. You rolled your hips up against his, moaning as you felt the angle change inside of you, the vibrations of your first orgasm leaving you so sensitive that every movement felt like sparks flying inside of you. Warren's forehead pressed against yours as he thrust his hips, groaning deeply at the feeling of your warm, wet entrance clenching around him, a perfect fit like you were always meant to be this close. His steady thrusts grew faster, his volume increasing as he chased his high, the feeling of being deep inside you more than he could hold himself back from.

"(y/n), I.." He groaned out, his own ecstasy imminent as you nodded your head, anticipating his release as his hips started to twitch erratically,

"it's okay baby, let go, I want to feel you inside me." You moaned out, returning your hands to his wings, your fingers running over the feathers in a blissful sensation that had Warren crying out your name as he let himself spill inside of you. You kept the gentle stroke of your fingers on his wings until he rolled sideways, falling onto the bed beside you, his wing wrapping over you like the most protective blanket you could hope for.

"That was amazing (y/n)." He sighed softly, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead as he cuddled in closer, his nose bumping into yours as your faces drew closer.

"It really was, I love you." You replied back, pulling your own blanket over the both of you as you settled into the cosy comfort of bed together.

"I love you too." He echoed softly, a weight lifted from his scarred shoulders as he allowed himself to relax into you, finally feeling like he's found his safe home; you.

#one shot #fanfiction #writing #requests #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington angst #warren worthington x you #warren worthington iii #warren worthington smut #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington fluff #Warren Worthington #x men one shot #xmen #xmen angel #x men apocalypse #x-men angel #angel

[reapers-lover]

Pumpkin seeds

Warren Worthington iii x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of knifes for carving pumpkins and mentions of taking a shower together otherwise just straight fluff

...

~What happens when you carve pumpkins with Warren for the first time?~

Word count: 490

Halloween at Xavier's school for gifted children was never a bore. But, this year Warren was here to spend it with you.

"Y/n where are we even going to put the pumpkins?" He asked as he held onto the pumpkin I gave him.

"We always put them outside of our rooms- Ah-ha! I found another good one!" You exclaimed. Warren chuckled as you got a good hold on the pumpkin and started walking away. You turned around to see him still in the same place as before.

"What are you waiting for? The pumpkins won't carve themselves!"

He sighed chuckling again then finally followed you home.

…

You laid out newspapers all around Warren's bedroom floor.

"Why do we have to do this in my room?" He complained while still laying down the newspapers.

"Because I've got a rug in my room and you don't." You laughed.

You laid down the last paper and smiled.

"Now we have to grab the pumpkins and the knives to carve 'em!"

Warren went to grab the knives as you carefully placed the pumpkins at the center of the newspaper. By the time Warren came back you had already drawn out where you wanted to carve.

"Ok so I drew out my design and you can do the same if you'd like if you can just free hand it!"

He nodded and you grabbed a knife and started cutting into the top of the pumpkin. You started to take out the gooey seeds from the center when an idea sparked in your head. You picked up a handful of the previously discarded seeds then set it on Warren's bare arm. He glared at you then chuckled darkly. He tossed the seeds onto the floor and grabbed a knife to cut his pumpkin.

Barely a minute later you were interrupted from your pumpkin carving when Warren placed a large clump of the seeds on top of your head.

You grabbed another handful of seeds and threw them at him. And without even aiming you had managed to hit his face.

"Oh you're in for it now." He chuckled.

You screeched as he threw a clump at your face also. Soon enough a war had started. You both were throwing seeds and guts at each other. Aiming anywhere you could possibly hit.

…

Laughing, you collapsed onto the newspaper. Warren quickly followed. Slightly out of breath you smiled at each other. You turned and grabbed his face. You leaned in and kissed him, smiling lightly. He tasted like pumpkins.

"We should probably clean up." You sighed about to get up. You were stopped by Warren's arms around your stomach. He pulled you down next to him and stole another kiss.

"How about this, we clean up and then we can take a shower?" You proposed.

"That sounds perfect." He smiled, got up and bent down giving you one more kiss before cleaning up the room.

#fanfiction #fluff #x men apocalypse #x men #angel #warren worthington x reader #warren #warren worthington iii #warren worthington the third #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington iii x reader #angel x reader #x men x reader #reapers halloween

[absolutelyfizzing]

gentlest instruments (request) 

warren worthington iii x fem!reader

Do you take requests still? If so can you do Warren Worthington basically worshipping reader (their body and what-not) and basically being hella whipped? Fem!reader if you can, :)

description - reader is feeling a little insecure but warren puts an end to that right away.

word count - 1000

warnings - insecure reader, one cuss word, reader is described as a woman at times, very minor body description (i don't think anything distinct but nonetheless), warren being an angel, reader is a mutant and has powers over nature.

A/N- i am so very sorry i haven't posted in so long. I go through these ohases where i just don't write at all and i feel awful that i leave some of you waiting for more. Anyway, i am trying to work though the requests that are speaking to me and i will be trying to write more often (though we all know how often i say that). Thank you for sticking with me and i hope you enjoy.

MASTERLIST

You looked at yourself in the mirror and sighed. It wasn't that you didn't like how you looked, you thought you were fine. But it's not like you were anything to call home about. At the school you were surrounded by beautiful and gifted women all the time, how were you supposed to compete? How were you supposed to maintain Warren's attention?

He had never made you feel insecure, he was always one to tell you how pretty you looked and that he liked your outfits, it just made you question his sincerity. Your powers were in manipulating nature, something that you liked but it wasn't exactly badass. You looked at Jean or Raven or Ororo and they were all so powerful and strong. You weren't sure if that's what you were.

You pulled at your jean shorts and tugged on your shirt and just gave another sigh before turning away from the mirror.

A knock was sounded at the door that made you jump a bit, scaring you out of your own thoughts.

"Y/N?" It was Warren. You had a date today which really just meant he was taking you out for an afternoon picnic.

He was the sweetest boyfriend you could have ever asked for. He was adoring and gentle with you and he never made you question his loyalty. So why did you feel so insecure?

"Come in." You tried to let light into your voice but you knew you sounded frustrated.

He slowly crept the door open and peeked inside the room to find you facing decidedly away from your mirror and picking at your hands.

"Are you doing okay, my love?" He sounded timid and you hated that he could so easily tell when you weren't feeling well.

"Yeah, I'm alright." You assured, trying to communicate to him with your eyes, now met across the room, that you didn't want to talk about it. He must have gotten the point because he simply nodded and stood a bit to the side. He swept his arm across him toward the door, ushering you out, and he plastered a big grin on his face that made your heart quicken. You giggled a bit and you both left your room.

Instead of trying to talk to you when you seemed so preoccupied, Warren settled on holding your hand and fidgeting with your thumb.

You silently and contentedly made your way together out of the building and across the lawn to a large oak tree under which warren had put together a modest picnic. There were flowers and a planet laid out with a basket of food and it made you nearly cry. How sweet was this man stood next to you and how could anyone ever think he was menacing. He motioned for you to sit when you got there and you did, looking around at the sweet gesture.

He sat next to you, his wings spread behind him in their relaxed state and he laid down. Suddenly there were hands on your waist pulling you down with him and you fell on top of him in a fit of giggles, putting a big smile on Warren's face. He would have done anything to make you laugh like that for the rest of your life. You looked up at him from your new spot on his chest and he gazed into your eyes. His smile slowly dropped.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about what's bothering you, honey?" You sighed and broke eye contact with him, instead moving to sit up and face where he lay. You found yourself reaching for his wings to card your fingers through them but paused.

He had always told you that you were the only person he let touch his wings but you were still hesitant.

"Go ahead, bub."

You started to play with the feathers, being gentle and conscious that they were sensitive.

"I was just feeling insecure I think." You whispered, knowing that it sounded strange to him. He had told you that you had no reason to ever be insecure and that you were perfect to him.

"About what?"

"My body. My powers. Just like, me I guess."

"Honey, you are the most beautiful girl in the world." You gave him a playful glare that told him to drop the bullshit. "I'm not kidding."

"Warren-"

"Y/N, you are amazing. Your body is amazing. Your powers are amazing. Your hands are the gentlest instruments I've ever had the pleasure of touching. Your thighs are made of pure magic and you cannot convince me otherwise." You smiled at him a bit. "And your smile is that only thing I care about in this whole world. You make me so endlessly happy. You know that right?"

"I think I do. I mean, logically I know you love me. I just see all of these powerful women everywhere around us and I don't know how I can compete with that."

"There is no competition, Y/N." He whispered, his hand coming to trace the lines of your face above him. "You are the only woman I think about, your arms are the only place I want to be and your stomach is my favorite place to take a nap. Your scars are a sign of strength and your lips are the most absolutely kissable thing I've ever seen." With that, he sat up and pulled you into a sweet kiss. It held all of the love he had for you. His thumb traced under your eye where you hadn't noticed any tears falling but he wiped them away nonetheless.

"I guess this is just a sign that I need to show you how beautiful you are more often." He smiled and you gave him a small smile in return.

#fluff #fluffy #warren #Warren Worthington III #warren worthington the third #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii x reader #warren imagine #warren fluff #warren x reader #x men #xmen #xmen imagine #xmen fluff #angst #x reader

[betyloca]

Imagine: being the only person who welcomed Warren into the mansion without being afraid of him, becoming his only friend.

#warren worthington imagine #xmen x reader #xmen imagine #xmen apocalypse #warren worthington x reader

[chucklenutsz]

Warren Worthington 💖

#warren worthington the third #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington smut #warren worthington iii #angel wings #angel #archangel #angel of death #ben hardy #marvel xmen #x men apocalypse #x men movies #xmen #x men fanart

[delicatenightfury]

Christmas Surprise

Wolverine and the X-men onshot

Pairing: Warren Worthington III x OC

Summary: Warren decides to surprise his girlfriend for Christmas

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: fluff, just a little steamy at the end but not a lot

Author's note:

So, I made @mistys-blerbz watch two of my favorite X-men shows - X-men Evolution (2000) and Wolverine and the X-men (2009). We've been exposing one another to different shows and encouraging one another to create OC's for those shows. So, Misty created a character.

But we quickly realized that there is literally no fics for Angel other than the X-men Apocalypse version, and if I'm being honest, I really don't like that version of him. So, of course I had to go and write my own to satisfy us both.

Also, please don't steal my work! I don't own X-men characters or the OC (which belongs to @mistys-blerbz), but this is my own idea.

Elsie hummed happily to the Christmas music that echoed throughout the station. The place was decorated wildly for the holiday. Lights hung from the ceiling and wrapped around several railings. The large red and gold Christmas tree was put up in the lobby. Elsie always loved the train set that was always placed at the base of the tree, especially since the train was replaced with a bright fire truck. When she was younger, she used to lay in front of the tree and watch the train go round and round the base.

She could hear her family chattering around the place, cheering at the football game or laughing at the poker game they had started. The sounds made her feel a sense of peace, filling her heart with warmth. And while she wanted to join them, Elsie had claimed charge of the grill, cooking up enough food to feed a small army. Fire fighters sure knew how to eat. Not that she minded. She was used to cooking for large groups of people. The kids at the Institute could easily rival her Chicago family.

“Dinner smells great, kiddo,” Frank said as he came up next to her. “Glad to see you’ve still got it.”

“I’m hurt, Frank! You think I’d lost it?”

Frank smiled and pressed a kiss to the side of her head. The fire chief was like a father to her. He had graying hair and a full mustache that looked straight from the 80’s, but always had a charming look to him. Elsie guessed he was quite the lady’s man back in the day.

“Never.”

“Good. Now get the hell out of my kitchen. I’m working.”

Frank laughed as he stepped away.

“Ya hear that, boys? She’s home for all of two minutes and she’s already taking over!”

“Damn right!” Elsie called.

“She can take over all she wants!” she heard Ben shout back. “She cooks better than you can, old man!”

Elsie simply smirked at Frank, who looked shocked at the comment.

She loved her family, as crazy and nontraditional as it was.

When she was a baby, she was left at the fire station by her parents. The reason they hadn’t wanted her? She was a mutant, born with green skin, white hair, and golden eyes. The firefighters at the station had decided to take her in rather than turn her over to Child Services, knowing that she would have a better chance growing up with them instead of more than likely jumping foster homes. They gave her a room just for her and taught her everything she knew. 

They hadn’t cared about her appearance. In fact, they loved her for it. One of the first things they requested when she had arrived was that she turn off her image inducer bracelet and remain in her true form. The only other time she got to be in her own skin was when she was at the Institute or on missions with the X-men.

Elsie couldn’t have asked for a better family. She loved getting to come home for the holidays and be with them. They always made time for her, even leaving their own families for a time so that they could spend time with her.

The only thing that could possibly make this time better was if her special someone were there with her. The very thought of him made her smile. 

She had been dating Warren for several months now. Like her, he was a mutant with a physical mutation. They had gone to college together but did not officially get together until after they both joined the X-men.

The only downside was that neither of their families knew of their relationship.

Warren’s reasoning was straightforward: his father was a big public figure, the CEO of Worthington Industries, with a very vocal dislike for mutants. He even funded several anti-mutant projects. Having a mutant as a son was a “bad look” for Mr Worthington in general, so to learn that his son was dating one would be an even bigger blow to his image.

Elsie’s reasoning was a little more complicated. Her family consisted of a bunch of overprotective fire fighters. They would not hesitate to grill Warren given the chance, possibly even give the “if you hurt our girl” speech. As much as she wanted Warren to meet her family, she was nervous about the responses they would receive.

Elsie smiled when the meat finished on the grill, quickly putting it all on a large plate. She had timed everything perfectly so the food was all finishing around the same time.

She let out a loud whistle, knowing it would catch everyone’s attention.

“Dinner’s ready!” she shouted. “Come and get it while it’s hot!”

In the distance, she could hear people moving around to come upstairs. But she wasn’t expecting to hear a voice in the kitchen with her.

“Think there’s room for one more?”

Elsie whipped around to face the source, her eyes wide.

“Warren?!”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said with a grin.

She gaped at him as he maneuvered through the kitchen to approach her. She wrapped her arms around him - she could never resist a hug from him. He picked her up briefly, swinging her around a little before setting her back on her feet. Her hands subconsciously drifted toward his back, fingers tracing familiar patterns there.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked.

“Thought I’d surprise you,” he said.

“But I thought you were spending Christmas with your father?”

He shrugged.

“I told him that I wanted to check out the Chicago lab, see how things were going. I just came from there.”

“You faked an excuse? To come here?”

He nodded, but was slowly looking a little unsure.

“Was that okay?”

“Of course!” He had faked an excuse to his father just so he could spend time with her. She hugged him again, planting a kiss on his lips. “I just wasn’t expecting it!”

“Hence why it’s a surprise, Els.”

A loud cough broke in, drawing the couple’s attention away from each other and toward the kitchen entrance. Elsie winced when she saw that nearly everyone was piled into the doorway staring at them. Slowly, they trickled in and all eyes were on the pair.

“Who the hell is this?” Todd asked.

Elsie smiled sheepishly, linking her arm with Warren’s, who smiled politely at them all. 

“Guys, this is Warren,” she said slowly. “My boyfriend.”

There were varying expressions of surprise on their faces. Elsie waited anxiously to see what they would do.

Frank stepped forward first, arms dropping from where they were crossed over his chest. Warren offered his hand to him.

“Warren Worthington. Pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said.

Frank scanned him over briefly before taking his hand and shaking it.

“Pleasure’s all mine. It’s great to finally meet you, Mr Worthington,” Frank said.

“Please, call me Warren.”

“You taking care of our girl, Warren?”

He chuckled a little, almost nervously. He looked at Elsie, flashing her a smile before turning back to Frank.

“Doing my best. But some days it’s more like she’s taking care of me.”

The fire chief smiled.

“She tends to do that. Hey, why don’t you take off your coat? Stay for dinner.”

Warren glanced at Elsie. She gave him an encouraging smile and a small nod. Warren took a breath before he shrugged off his coat. Elsie watched his wings unfurl, stretching them a little to get more comfortable. They seemed to glow in the kitchen lights. As Warren folded up his coat, Elsie looked at her family. They looked even more surprised than before, but they also appeared to be in awe.

“Woah,” Joe breathed.

Elsie smiled at Warren before clapping her hands.

“All right! How about we put the food on the table and eat?”

The rest of the night passed without incident. Of course her family wanted to know everything, so dinner mostly consisted of questions being fired left and right. Sometimes someone would say something that caught Elsie off guard and caused her to groan in embarrassment. In response, Warren would place his hand on her thigh. He’d squeeze it every now and then but would primarily rub his thumb gently over her skin.

But his actions did little to calm her down. In fact, he only succeeded in getting her to go from embarrassed to horny. And that damn man knew exactly what he was doing to her, that little smirk told her everything.

Warren had offered to help Frank clean up from dinner, much to Elsie’s annoyance. She wanted nothing more than to drag him up to her room. But he had chosen to socialize instead, wanting to get to know her family.

Damn, pretty boy.

In all honesty, she loved seeing him openly interact with her family. Warren rarely got to be himself in public, but he didn’t need to put up a front with them. It warmed her heart to see just how comfortable he was with everyone.

The hours slowly went by and things eventually settled down. Most of the crew went home to their families, a few staying in case of emergency. Elsie and Warren said their good nights to everyone before they headed upstairs to her room. 

Once the door was shut though, Elsie was practically on top of Warren. The man laughed, putting his hands on her hips and squeezing them in the way that Elsie loved.

“Woah there, sweetheart. Seems like someone is a little excited.”

“It’s your own damn fault,” she said, tugging at his sweater. “You kept touching my thigh during dinner, then brushing up against me throughout the rest of the night.”

Warren hummed, grinning as he pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Can’t help it, beautiful. I love seeing you all confident and happy. Plus you look amazing tonight. I love seeing this version of you.”

Elsie smiled.

“I guess I can forgive you. But only if you get these damn clothes off.”

“Way ahead of you.”

The two fell into bed, losing themselves in each other. 

Elsie sighed as she settled comfortably on Warren’s bare chest.

“God, I missed this.”

“What sex?” Warren said with an amused look.

“No. Well, yes. But no, I meant you.”

Warren smiled. He gripped her chin and pulled her face up to his so he could kiss her sweetly. Elsie hummed happily.

“I missed you too, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m glad I was able to come by.”

Elsie chuckled.

“I still can’t believe you lied to your dad just to come here.”

“Hey, I’d much rather spend time with you than with a father who barely talks to me. Your family is much more fun. You all seem very close.”

“I’d like to think so. They all basically raised me after my parents left me here. I’d never ask for a better family.”

“Don’t let the kids back at the Institute hear you say that. They might take offense.”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Warren laughed. He tugged her closer and buried his face in her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her skin. Elsie smiled. He never could get enough of her, though the feeling was definitely mutual. 

“Oh, I just remembered,” she said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Before dinner, Frank said it was great to finally meet you. Any idea what that was about?”

Warren nodded. He seemed a little nervous suddenly, but he spoke up anyway.

“Since we were in college, I’ve been giving monthly donations to the station. And when there was that accident a few years back when this place flooded, I helped pay for the repairs. So Frank and I have actually had a little bit of communication since all that.”

Elsie had pushed herself up so she could stare at Warren. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“But all that… that was before we even started dating.”

He nodded.

“Yeah, I know. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know how you’d react. But I wanted to support the station because I knew how much it meant to you, and I knew how much they did to take care of you.” He reached up to cup her cheek, swiping his thumb over her freckles. “I hope that’s okay.”

Elsie could feel tears in the corners of her eyes but she refuses to let them fall. She laughed a little and surged down to kiss him. He was momentarily caught off guard but wrapped his arms around her to bring her closer. Elsie adjusted so she was straddling him, thick thighs on either side of his hips. She pulled away enough to look at him, a wide smile gracing her lips.

“It’s more than okay,” she said. “I just wasn’t expecting that. I knew the station was receiving donations, but Frank never told me who they were coming from. I just… thank you.”

Warren smiled, brushing her white hair back behind her ear. 

“Of course, Els. I love you.”

“I love you too, Warren.” A little devilish smirk slowly spread across her face as she rolled her hips. “Now why don’t I show you just how much?”

#wolverine and the x-men #x-men #angel #warren Worthington iii #x-men angel #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington x oc #angel imagine #angel x oc #mutant oc #writing for a friend #I love this show so much #watxm

[tomhiddelstonandzaynmalik]

"Death, Pestilence and Famine"

chapter 3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

----------------------------

"Get the... f-fuc-k... Just... f-...

...Go -way!"

The smoke was making it really hard for him to speak a complete sentence without coughing, but it was the first time he spoke to you directly in 3 years, from when he helped you out on your debut night. Funny, isn't it, how the tables had turned?

"Oh, cut the crap and let me help you!"

"I-I don't... need y-"

This man!!! Seriously? You thought to yourself, astonished by this beaten up, electrocuted and half-roasted man, still having the audacity to act all bratty given the circumstances. You were about to shut him up when a a sudden crashing sound made you both jump.

A piece of what used to be the celling fell right at Warren's back, missing him by mere inches. Just as he stayed in there, motionless and still processing what just happened, you took the opportunity to get close enough so you could placed yourself from underneath his arm, attempting to balance most of his weight on you while guiding him towards the exit

"WE MUST GO... NOW!"

Finding the way out was rough, yes, but thanks to the adrenaline rush it had been way easier and way less painful than carrying a person twice your body weight with gigantic, and now useless wings which were dragging you both down every 3 steps of the way.

Now problem was, what now? You couldn't quite possibly show up to E.R looking like that, because let's be honest, even during this somewhat more opened-minded-times there was still plenty of judgment towards your kind, there were still too many people out there who firmly believed each and every mutant was always "up to no good" and two raggedy kids covered in ashes and blood with one of them showing a very clear mutation could cause many to start asking too many questions which could put you both in jail, because as much as you hated it, this time both of you had, stupidly, been "up to no good".

This made the only possible destination, much to your dislike, to be none other than Warren's place. But the only time you ever went there it had been long ago. In theory finding the old building shouldn't have been much of an issue, if each time you asked Warren for any sort of guidance he didn't just mutter a bunch of nonsense and curses. Luckily what you did know was that it was in the same area as the Cage, and it's not like there was a spooky warehouse around every corner, it had to be easy to find, right?

After what felt like a life time, you finally made it to the box-like building with cracked walls covered in graffiti and with far too many broken windows, it had a dark and gloomy aura that missed-matched completely from the overall vivid environment from the city's night life, just like before all you could think of it was 'this is the type of place people get murder in the movies'.

"You'll have to kick the door"

Your companion said, but given his previous helpful input before, you thought it was more of the same rambling from before.

"Yeah, whatever you say, buddy"

"No.. it, the door... It won't open, unless you kick it"

"Oh, so we're making sense now, uh?"

Maybe it scared the shit out of you, but to Warren this was home, and it showed since he wasn't as delusional as before.

"Well in that case I'll have to leave you here, ok?"

You said while slowly resting Warren next to the wall so you could try to open the front door.

After a few minutes and many failed attempts you finally cracked Warren's advanced security system.

"Ok, c'mon up, hun, just a few more steps."

Maybe it had been the exhaustion, or maybe because of the absolute delicacy you grabbed him with, what took him by surprise and made Warren nod and cooperate so easily.

But sadly the night wasn't over, once inside Warren still needed help, a lot of it. As you carefully slipped him from over your shoulder onto his mattress. you realized, YOU HAD NO FUCKING IDEA WHERE TO START.

Your mind was going at full speed thinking about the next step. Should I clean him up? Should I check if there's something broken? Or maybe I should give him some water? Does he even have water in here? Oh god what if he has a brain injury? How the hell am I going t-

"-id kit"

"Watcha say?"

"First aid kit, behind you"

As you reached out to the suitcase-size kit you started searching for something you didn't even know what it was.

"Left side, big brown bottle"

As if he was reading your mind, Warren started to name the lengthy list of what was needed, and in all honesty you couldn't have been more grateful. It's not like you didn't know how to patch someone up, it's just this type of wounds were something you've never healed before, and well... This was Warren we were talking about! This was probably the first time he'd accepted help in his entire life so if you screwed this up he might never forgive you.

And for some unknown reason it only increased your anxiety, but why? It's not like you were close, God, you weren't even friends. So why did it matter to you so much what he thought?

"Fucking-agh!"

While you were lost in yourself Warren had started to ditch his jacket so you could work on him but trying to do so with only one arm and with the fabric sticking to the dried blood was making it nothing but torture.

"Hey, hey, hey, let me ok? You're gonna make it worse".

#archangel x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #warren worthington x reader #xmen x reader #warren worthington iii x reader #xmen #archangel #xmen fanfiction #warren worthington imagine #xmen headcanon #warren worthington the third #apocalypse #x men fanfiction

[thegreatwicked]

Mending Feathers

Mending Feathers

Summary: Warren, having escaped the cagefighting underground, seeks refuge in a broken church, feeling crippled and directionless with his damaged wings. During a stormy night, he discovers an unexpected visitor seeking sanctuary in his church. Initially resistant, Warren is taken aback when the visitor reveals the ability to heal and restore his wings. With his ability to fly restored, Warren is free again, but questions arise about the mysterious girl and what lies ahead for him. Grappling with gratitude, Warren contemplates the next chapter of his life and wonders how he can express his thanks. Takes place in an AU in the church Apocalypse finds Warren drinking his sorrows away in, I've also set it in London.

Pairing: Warren Worthington III x OC Ivy

Rating: Explicit; smut, you know why you're here.

Content Warning; descriptions of healing that may be somewhat graphic and painful.

Final note: This is my first story written from a character with an accent, its' Warrens POV and I REALLY tried to get this ounding like him so please be gentle in your critiques of my writing of a British accent!

Staring into the fire, lost in the bloody chaos swirlin' in my mind, like it's the only thing with the answers I need. The storm outside, it's like a mirror to the mess I've turned into; turbulent and wild. Been ages since I busted out of that cage, the night when everything went pear-shaped, and I've been rotting away in here since with wings that won't heal, can't fly, and feel like they're pulling me down each day. Can feel me body slowly dying a piece at a time.

Me wings are in a right state, I'm in a sore state, but it's nothin' compared to what's simmerin' in my head: It's the memories, they're like a nightmare on repeat. All the dodgy things I did to survive in that place, they're gnawing at me like a hungry dog, tearing me apart from the inside, but I can't shake 'em. Can still see their faces, hear their cries, begging me not to finish 'em off. But it was kill or be killed, and I chose to survive. 

That was the worst bit seeing the desperation in 'em when they all realized that it was them or me, that's when the light inside 'em all went out. That spark that keeps us all going. Now, their ghostly voices haunt me, remindin' me of what I've done. And for what? Some sick entertainment for the bloody masses. And they have the nerve to call us the freaks. Bloody hypocrites.

The fire crackles and pops like a symphony, and every little snap makes me twitch a tad, giving my mind a short break from the constant chatter inside my head. It’s the only thing keeping me from going mad in this place. But something feels off, and then I hear it; sounds that shouldn’t be there; I’m not alone and I prefer it that way. There's no room for unwelcome guests in my space. Panic creeps in, because I’m not in any state to go brawling but I'm not about to let it paralyze me, I’m too pissed off to do nothing. This is my turf.

I keep to the shadows, strength’s not on my side but I can be quiet as a church mouse, moving up on the intruder, watching as they slide through the busted window. It's a girl, 'round my age, soaked to the bone like a stray dog, looking as miserable as a drowned rat. She lands with a thud and starts scoping out my church, muttering to herself. "Could do worse," she says rubbing her arms like she’s trying to warm up, making me wonder what's worse than this place. As she glances around, maybe she's thinking what I thought when I first stumbled in here, eyeballing the statues of the saints, feeling judged as all hell, looking at the stained glass windows and wondering how they'd shine with sunlight instead of moss and rain. She freezes, her eyes locked on something near the altar, one of my feathers, stained with blood. 

She picks it up, staring at it like it's some ghost. "Didn't think angels existed," she mutters, clueless that I'm watching her.

Any sympathy I feel for her is quickly knocked out of my head with the simple logic of 'ain't nothin wrong with her, she can find someplace else.' I can't let her stay. I step out of the shadows, my voice sharp and cutting through the air like a blade. 

"Oi! What's your game, then?" My voice echoes off the walls and pillars amplified in a space this grand and sounds ten times larger than it is, making her jump like a startled cat. She looks my way, seemingly taken aback by the fact that she's not alone, but she doesn't even take in my wings.

"Clear off!" I demand, not giving her an inch. She babbles about waiting out the storm, but I won't have any of it. She's got to clear out of my church

"Your church? Last time I checked churches were sanctuary for all." She shoots back with a tone that tells me she's no pushover, the kind of lass who's never afraid of a tussle, I get the feeling tongue as sharp as hers has probably landed her in trouble as often as mine has for me. She's got fire in her, I’ll give her that. I can tell she's got some fire in her, and, of course, she's American, because they tend to think they can roam where they want and do as they please.

“Not this one.”

She seems like she's about to give me a piece of her mind for being a jerk, fair enough, I am a jerk, but then she stops when she notices the state of my wings. Her eyes widen like she's seen a real biblical angel, "Jesus," She mutters to herself, not here, he ain't. "Are you okay?" Her voice goes soft, filled with something that sounds like fear. Her voice goes all gentle and filled with something that sounds like concern, making me feel more exposed than I'd like. Can't have anyone see me in this state; I'm feeling fragile, too weak.

I'm not a welcoming bloke, and I've grown pretty used to being on my own, especially in a place like this. But when I notice someone trespassing in the church during the storm, I can't help but get my feathers ruffled. 

The storm ragin’ outside, raining cats and dogs, the lightning flickerin’ through the stained-glass windows, and now I can see her a bit more clearly. She's a looker, with long ginger red hair that's probably a mum's dream to braid and play with. Her lips look like they might be a real treat to kiss. I can't quite make out her eyes, but I feel small and naked under her gaze. Don't like that feeling one bit. It's late, I'm knackered, and I can't be arsed for a fight.

She's fixated on my wrecked wings, looking at me as if I'm some sort of charity case. "Does that hurt?" Bless her heart, she's gorgeous, but dense as a brick. 

"Nah, not at all, feels like a tickle," I say, snappin’ back when she takes a step closer, trying to reach out to me like I'm some bloomin' pet or something. "Course it bloody hurts! You got any idea how much it hurts to be draggin’ ‘round a busted piece of your body without a hope in hell of it ever gettin’ better?"

Then she says it; the second daftest thing I’ve heard.

“I can help.”

She just won't back off, will she? Bloody persistent little thing, it’d be inspirin’ if it wasn’t so ruddy annoying. I'd bet my last quid she's the type to take in every stray cat and dog she finds in the rain. All the beauty in the world ain't worth it if she's completely off her rocker. Her tone changes, though, and she goes from being snappy, clever, and full of sass to surprisingly accommodating for a stranger. I’m rolling my eyes, should ‘ave sent her packing when I had the chance. Now, she's like a stray cat I can't seem to shake off.

"Wait a sec, I’m serious, I can help you!" 

My temper flares up, gettin’ the better of me, and something inside me just snaps. I can't fathom what kind of magic tricks she thinks she's got in her bag that could possibly fix me. I’m angrier than I should be, but maybe cause I’m just so tired of being broken. How’d you fix this? It’s almost insulting, one things for sure if she gives me some line about prayer or spirit healing I’ll send her packing this time, don’t care how fit she is. 

"How d'you reckon you can help me, then, eh?" It ain't her fault I'm in this state, she didn't cripple me, but she's sure as hell payin’ the price for being so damn optimistic. "You got a plaster big enough for this?"

The concern vanishes, and she's got that fiery look in her eyes again, like she's got something to prove. Before I can even process what she's doing, she walks to one of the busted windows and gives it a hard kick, sending glass shattering and letting more of the storm in. Then she snatches up a shard of broken glass, and takes it to her hand as if she's openin’ a parcel from the post.

"Oi! What’n the hell are you doing?!" 

Panic shoots through me as I hurry to wrest the glass from her grip before she can do any more harm. I'm in a frenzy, though I don’t know why, all to prevent this complete stranger from harmin’ herself. And the whole time, she's actin’ as if she hasn't just maimed herself right in front of a bloke she's never met before. Like it's just another Tuesday for her, ain’t it?

The glass shatters as it hits the ground, and I've got her hand in mine, trying to get a proper look at her, but then something absolutely mental happens. It's her hand; I'm watching the cut bloody heal right before my eyes. What the hell is going on here?

She's back to banging on about how she can help me, and maybe she can, but my brain's spinning, considering if this could be some sort of trick or if there's even a sliver of hope I could soar once more. Dunno why but I touch her hand, where the gash was an it’s just fine, skin soft and whole. 

"I won't hurt you," her voice is warm, like a cozy jumper on a chilly day. This girl, she's a bit loopy, but I'll be damned if she isn't genuine. “Look, just let me help you and I’ll go.”

She won’t hurt me? Now that’s downright precious, as if someone as pint-sized as her could get the jump on me, busted wings or not I’m no slouch in a fight. Still, she inches closer. 

"What's your name?" No way I can manage an answer, too busy tryin’ to make sense of what just happened. "I'm Ivy," She keeps closing in, moving like she's trying to corner a spooked animal, maybe that's what I am. 

Suddenly, she's right in front of me, eyes fixed on my wings and the scars etched into the rest of my body, I must look a mess. Eventually, and I can’t believe I’m entertaining this nonsense.

"Will it hurt?" My voice is weaker than I’d like, but really? I’m terrified.

"I don’t know, all I have to do is touch you." Her hand's right there, closer to me than anyone's been since my cage days. I jump back for a moment, hit with a surge of panic. She's too close, too kind, too real, it can't be real, can it? Says the bloke with wings, I know.

I mean, we're in a bloody church, the Big Guy's gaff where miracles are supposed to go down, and what kind of tosser would I be if I didn't have a bit of faith in Him, even after the rubbish hand I've been dealt? I swallow down my nerves, what’s the worst that could happen? Best case scenario, she patches me up, and I'm whole again. Worst case, I look like a right idiot, either way, I’m no worse off.

Fuck it, I grab her hand, pulling it against my cheek as if ripping off a metaphorical plaster, and I can feel her other hand gently takin’ hold of my wing. Then, I shut my eyes tight.

It ain’t painless, not by a long shot. It's like an electric shock coursin’ through my entire body. Like being torn apart and pieced back together and there ain't no rhyme or reason to it. Every inch of me is screamin’ to push her away, to tear her hands off me. But then I see her face, focused and intense, and I can’t help but think that she's got this under control.

The pain’s almost unbearable, the kind that shoots up your spine when you pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. One moment, I’m all broken and torn, but the next, I can feel things clickin’ back into place as if some invisible force is yankin’ my body around like a rag doll. Bones creakin’ back into proper position, nerves sparking back to life, skin stretchin’ to cover the gaps, tendons, and muscles knittin’ themselves together, all at once, after months of being in disarray. It's a symphony of agony and renewal, a bluster of snapping and shifting. 

I grit my teeth, tryin’ not to scream, but a low, guttural groan tears its way out of my lungs. My back arches involuntarily, and I can feel the sweat pourin’ down my face. Every muscle in my body tenses, and my heart’s racin’, it's a chaotic whirlwind of sensations, a rollercoaster of pain and relief.

I can feel a pulse and crackle of energy in the air, the faint hum of somethin’ ancient and powerful, and it feels like it's crawling under my skin. I reckon I've got no faith in God, but I've got faith in Ivy, and right now, that's enough. It's excruciatin’, and I'm on the verge of passing out from the sheer agony. As the seconds drag on, I can feel my strength ebbin’ away, my body changin’ and mending in ways I didn’t know were possible. I sink to my knees, muscles tremblin’, and Ivy holds onto me like she's afraid I'll slip away, just as everything starts to blur, to meld into a haze of pain and darkness, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, I'll be whole again when I wake up.

When I finally force my eyes open, I see blurry outlines, and my wings feel... different. It's like I can actually feel it, strong and whole. It's overwhelmin’ the way my body’s speakin’ to me again. Ivy's face hovers above me, an her eyes are full of concern. The room’s lit up in a faint glow but I can’t tell from where or what, the air’s heavy with the scent of rain and something else, something like life and renewal.

"Easy there tiger," I'm sprawled on the cold floor, feeling like I've been hit by a double-decker coach, my limbs heavy as lead, and Ivy's right there, holding me up, the pain all but vanished but I'm still aching all over. "I've got you," she says, helping me sit up.

"Did it work?" I ask, feeling like I've just come out of a rough night at the pub, sick and battered. She gives me a shake of ‘er head and this sympathetic smile like I've just asked the daftest question in the world.

"See for yourself."

I've never been so nervous to look over my shoulder, but sure enough, the blood's gone and I see full feathers, and I push myself up, testin’ the movement cautiously. They respond smoothly, without even a twinge of the previous stiffness and pain. A wave of relief crashes over me, and for the first time in what feels like ages, I feel like I've got my whole body back under my control. No pain. I'm whole. Ivy's healing touch has done what I thought was bleedin' impossible.

Can't believe it, and I was this close to giving this bird the boot. I almost missed out on getting my wings back. She's got this cheeky grin on her face, like she knows she's just pulled off something bloody brilliant, and she plops back down on the floor. She looks absolutely knackered, like she's just run a bleeding marathon. No doubt fixing me up took a toll on her. She did that for me, a complete stranger. I could kiss this girl.

“What’re you waiting for? Try ‘em out.” 

I don’t need to be told twice and I jump up my wings carrying me with ease for the first time in months, I’m in the rafters before you can blink and I can feel the smile creeping on my face. I’m flying. I’m weightless again, never thought I’d take to the skies again but here it is. 

I’m on top of the world after soaring, even if it’s just in the cathedral hall, feeling the exhilaration of flight once again. My mind’s racing with the possibilities, places I can go, things I can do — I feel free again. And no one’s ever gonna put me in a cage again, not as long as I have breath in my lungs. 

I need to go higher, feel the wind on my face, and let the rain drench me. A bit of rain ain't gonna hurt. There's a gap in the rafters where the old roof gave way, it’s my way out. I take a leap, and push myself up through the ceiling, out into the open. Soaring higher and higher, as fast as my wings'll take me.

The rain's pelting my face, soaking me to the bone, clothes sticking to me, but honestly, I don't give a toss. I'm free, that's all that matters. I'm pulling off some mad aerial tricks, spinning and looping through the sky like a bloody circus act. I'm doing every crazy move I know, because I can. The buzz is unreal. I've missed this, more than I knew. Up here, nothin’ can touch me. No one can lay a finger on me. I'm probably giving people a proper shock, might even turn a few doubters into believers if they happen to catch a glimpse of me.

I'm as light as a feather, climbing higher and higher, feeling the adrenaline rush. Time's got a mind of its own up here, and I ain't payin’ it any attention. It's only when I start feeling the cold from the altitude and notice my teeth are chatterin’ and my body shakin’ that I clock it's time to head back down and warm up.

I've got to find that fiery lass and plant a good one on her lips, I don’t care if I get smacked. Might not be the best at saying thanks, but I've got to let her know – thanks for saving my arse.

I make a soft landing inside the church, and the pigeons up in the rafters scatter like they've seen a ghost. Pigeons, the church's most faithful congregation, it seems. The excitement courses through me like electricity, pure joy that's been absent for a while. It feels like the very first time I ever flew.

"Ivy!" I shout, my voice is brimmin’ with enthusiasm. "Ivy, where are you, Love?" But there's nothin’ but silence. My heart drops like a lead weight. She's gone. The church door is still locked, just as I left it, so I glance toward the window she used to come in. It's my best guess – she must have slipped out the same way she came in. But why? Where's she off to? Without much thought, I burst through the ceiling again, eager to catch up with her. Why'd she leave me hanging like this?

"Women," I mumble, feeling a twinge of frustration.

I’m soarin’ through the rain-drenched skies, scannin’ the area for any sign of her. But it's as if she's vanished into thin air. Why the bloody hell would she do this?

I'm on the verge of giving up when I finally spot her, trudging along a dimly lit side street. She looks like she's been dragged through the mud, drenched and downcast. She doesn't even need to face me – I can see the sorrow in her gait. There's somethin’ about how women walk when they're hurtin’ as if they don't care where they're headed, just that it's somewhere far away from their problems.

Hugging herself, arms wrapped ‘round tight, against the cold and the world – it's as if she's saying, "If no one else’ll protect me, I'll do it myself."

I could've left her to it, pretended I didn't give a toss. After all, she was the one offerin’ to help me, wasn’t she? At least that's the story I want to buy. But life’s got this funny way of throwing choices right in your path, makin’ you pick a road, and tonight’s no different.

There I am, watching her pass that dodgy old warehouse when a couple of blokes start tailing her, sneaking out of a dingy alley like rats on the prowl. Another shadow joins in, and then a third. This doesn't feel right at all.

My blood goes icy, and me fists clench at the sight of those blokes, slitherin’ after Ivy like sharks on the prowl for an easy catch. All I can think about is them snatchers, the wankers who cracked me over the head and chucked me in that bleedin' cage. My anger bubbles up as they close in, and Ivy starts legging it. No chance I'm letting that happen on my watch.

I drop down, making a splash as I hit a muddy puddle, throwing my wings wide. You know the saying, make yourself look bigger, and even the dodgy sods tend to scarper. Them blokes take one look at me, and I reckon they either think they're seeing things or that I've brought down the wrath of the gods, 'cause they bugger off faster than they came.

Now I've got Ivy to deal with, and she's looking rather gobsmacked at the sight of me.

"You pester me for a place to crash, and then you just bugger off?" I’ve got to practically shout to be heard over the pounding storm; it’s deafening.

She just stands there, staring at me, like she ain’t got the faintest idea why I'd shown up. "That was the deal, remember?" She don’t seem half as annoyed as I am about her disappearin’ act. Admit I got so caught up in my own head, all I could think about was getting patched up. Completely missed the whole 'let me help you, and I'll go’ part. 

"Don't remember making any bloody deal," I tell her, my exasperation making me snap. Women and their dramatic flair, I swear.

"You made it pretty clear you weren't looking for company," I can’t argue with that. At the time, I just wanted to be left alone, but that was also when I thought I'd never fly again.

"Oh, for God's sake!" I groan, she’s milkin’ this for sure. Truth is, I never really intended to kick her out. But I'm a bloke, and us blokes can be stubborn idiots when we're hurting.

She's lookin’ at me like I just accused her of stealing the crown jewels, like she don't have a clue what to say. 

"What're you so upset about? Thought you wanted to be alone? It’s not like we’re friends. I don’t even know your name."

Suddenly, I feel about as big as a sodding ant, not sure what to spit out in response. A smarter bloke might come up with some slick line like 'I'm sorry, let's sort this out,' but I'm no Einstein. We're all daft sods, incapable of admitting when we cock things up. Instead, we act like it's their fault for our piss-poor choices. 

"Look, you’ve got your wings back so you don’t need me anymore, just go back, I'm fine." I'm an idiot, that much is clear, but even I know that when a bird says 'she’s fine,' she really ain't.

I snatch her arm, and the words "Just come back" feel foreign on my tongue, sour and bitter, but I can't figure out why. Actually, I know why, I’m missin’ the apology part. She's a decent lass, and I've been a right arse to her since she came into my life. Maybe it's my pride getting in the way, who knows? "Look, I'm sorry it ain't exactly the Ritz-" Classic deflection, ignorin’ the real issue at hand, as if that'll help my case. I just want her to stay, and maybe give me a chance to make things right.

She’s quick on the comebacks though, "Yeah, 'cause that's exactly what I'm hung up about, a fancy hotel instead of a safe place to sleep." For some daft reason, her choice of safety over luxury hits me square in the gut. “I’m fine on my own too, the difference is I don’t wanna be.”

"Where're you goin’?" I blurt as she tries to leg it for the umpteenth time.

"I'll take my chances with the storm, your Highness." 

Your Highness? That’s a bit much ain’t it? She's got a fiery, sassy attitude, looks like I've royally pissed her off. Can't say I blame her, my attitude hasn't exactly been top-notch.

It's not like my name will miraculously make things better, but calling me ‘Your Highness’ definitely ain't meant to be a compliment. There's a pause, a moment of tension between us where the rains makin’ more conversation than we are.

"Warren," I just sort of blurt it out, as if it’s the magic word that’ll fix this mess "My name's Warren.” Something works though, because she stops, she ain’t lookin’ at me but she’s stopped. “Look, just come back, dry off, and stay for a bit, alright?" 

I've got my pride, and she's got hers. You’d be hard-pressed to find two people more stubborn than us. But it doesn’t hold, she just looks over her shoulder at me then wraps that sad little jacket tighter ‘round herself. 

"Have a nice life, Warren," There’s sadness in her voice an’ I can see the ocean of hurt hidin’ behind her eyes, maybe even a couple of rain-soaked tears. She's trying her best to hold it together. It hits me, she’s really just gonna leave, off into the night like it’s nothin’. Crazy bird. She’d rather walk of finto a bleedin’ monsoon than come back with me, yeah, I’m an idiot and it’s my fault we’re here, but I’m tryin’ to mend things already. Can’t apologize to the back of someone’s head.

Alright, I've had enough of this stalemate. She's not just going to walk away from me, not after what she's done. Without giving her time to react, I grab her wrist, and lift her up into my arms like she don’t weigh a thing, and in the blink of an eye, we're risin’ up into the skies, not going anywhere now, is she?

She's got her arms wrapped around my neck in a second, clutching me like a boa constrictor. Gone is the smart-mouthed attitude, replaced by that quick and panicked "Oh god, oh god, oh god!" as she’s clingin’ to me for dear life. 

Where’d all that sass go, eh? I reckon she might've left it on the ground. I can't resist teasing her a bit when I throw in a cheeky remark once we’ve made it up high enough that the storms beneath us.

"I'll bring us back down if you stick around," She’s noddin’ like she's trying to outdo a bobblehead, steals a look at the ground, then decides it’s a bad idea, and squeezes me tighter. She agrees in a heartbeat, burying her head in my chest, practically begging.

"Ok! Ok! I'll stay, I promise! I'm sorry! Just let me go! — Wait! No, no, no! Don't let me go! Just take me back down! Please!" 

It's a bit funny to see how she switches from fierce to frightened as soon as we're up in the air, but then she hits me with that ‘please’ and something churns in my gut. What she doesn't know is that up here in the sky, she's as safe as can be with me.

I ease us back down a bit, and the storm is starting to let up, and the rain’s turning into a gentle mist, but it's still chilly enough that I can see goosebumps on her. I need to get her warm and dry again, so I pick up the pace. It's smooth sailing as I take us back to the church, slippin’ through the rooftop like before. She's still holding onto me, and hasn't quite realized we're back on solid ground again. Poor thing.

"Hey, s’alright, love. Back on terra firma."

It takes a sec but finally, she looks up, her gaze sweeping ‘round the church as if she's just realized we're back inside. Her feet are planted firmly on the ground, and she eases her death grip on me a bit. I can feel where her fingernails diggin’ into my skin, and her hands are tremblin’. It's like she's making herself let go of me, but maybe she doesn't want to, not just yet.

"I've never flown before, not even in a plane," Her voice quivers, and it takes her a moment to get the words out. A pang of guilt hits me as I realize how scared she must have been. Flying's as second nature to me as breathing, and I've never feared it, but I can't blame her for being terrified. I guess I have two things to apologize for now.

The front of the church is where folks gather for worship, and it's open and welcomin’ but the back? Well, that's where the priests get to live all snug and cozy. Church leadership usually has it that way. I take us to the rear of the church nice an slow, where I've got a little setup in one of the parish apartments. It's warm and snug in here, with the cracklin’ heat from the fire I had the sense to light earlier.

She's leanin’ on me, walking with that soggy grace like she’s ahd one too many, and I can see she's waiting for her stomach to stop doing somersaults. She's soaked to the bone, shivering like a leaf but whether that’s from nerves or the cold is hard to tell. 

"Hold tight, love, let's get you sorted with something dry." I don't have much to offer, but I rummage around and manage to scrounge up some of my clothes. Just a t-shirt and a pair of joggers, probably going to swallow her whole, but they're warm and dry. She looks at the clothes, then back towards where we came from, a bit dazed. I give my wings a playful flap to get her attention, not as a threat, just teasin’.

"Not thinking of doing a runner on me again, are you?" I’m only half joking. She shakes her head, those eyes of hers are wide like a deer in headlights, clearly rattled from our aerial escapade.

"Alright, then," I give her a nod, offering the clothes. She's a bit hesitant at first but then must recall the perks of being dry and warm, glancing around for some privacy. Not much of that in here, so I turn ‘round to give her some space, throwin’ out my wings just a bit, like a partition. A bloke's gotta be a bit considerate, right?

It’s silent for a few moments, and it's as though I can hear the cogs turning in her head. The quiet gets on my nerves real quick, I hate long silences, makes me worry she might take off any minute, and it makes me realize how much I don’t want her to go. It’s a relief when I can finally hear the sound of her tugging off her wet clothes, seems she's chosen to stick around. Well, time to start talking and clear the air between us.

Cracking your knuckles is a bad habit, I know, but I can’t help it, just something to fill the quiet gaps while I try to figure out what exactly to say. 

"Look, I'm sorry," I ain’t usually one for spilling my guts, but there's something about Ivy that makes me want to open up. I genuinely am sorry, sorry for scaring her, sorry for being a prat. She doesn't say anything, though, and I decide to reveal a bit more to this girl who's done more to save my hide than anyone else ever has. "I've been on me own for a long time, and I sort of got used to it, you know? Forgot that there are still some genuine, decent people out there, kind that just want to help."

It feels strange but also liberatin’, talkin’ to her. I can hear her pitching wet clothes on the floor, you know the sound; that wet slop when they hit the ground in a heap, and I'll admit I'm tempted to steal a glance. After all, I'm still a bloke, and that cheeky little devil on my shoulder is throwing up some enticing ideas. However, I can't help but catch the fleeting reflections of her in the glass of the cabinets across from us. Nothing racy, but it looks like she has some tattoos, a bit intriguing, that. I keep talking, laying it all out there, telling her about my life's story, the whole bloody thing. 

"I've been fighting for my life all my life, and I can't remember a time when I wasn't in pain, being hurt, or alone. When I thought I lost my wings, I thought that was the end of it for me." I’m fallin’ back into memories and that dark place in my head, an’ its physically weighing me down, like the past don’t wanna see me fly.

Then there’s a hand on my shoulder, cool and gentle, like porcelain, giving me the ok to turn ‘round. Sure enough, the shirt I gave her is way too big, more like a mini-dress, but it’s kinda cute. She looks good in my gear.

"So your response to the first person to be nice to you, was to be an ass?" I shrug, got no real excuse for that.

"Yeah, not my best moment." I start to open up about my long break from flying, the horrors of the cage fighting underground, and my time in captivity. "I did some awful things to survive, Ivy.” The words come out slowly, like they've been stuck in my throat all this time. Funny thing, as I start speaking my peace, them voices that wouldn't shut up earlier, they begin to fade into the background. “I killed mutants, like us. After all that, I figured it was better for me to be alone."

"Because then nobody can hurt you," She's not exactly questioning, more like she understands that feeling all too well. It's got me wondering what Ivy's story is. She said she'd never flown before, not even on a plane, so how’d she end up here in London?

Dunno how it happened, but Ivy's not feeling like a complete stranger anymore. She’s more like a friend, the kind who sticks around even when you’re being a right arse, even when you hurt 'em. Like, she reckons there's more good in me than them broken bits. She's giving me that soulful gaze of hers, like she's got me all figured out. But at the same time, she's givin’ me that look that says she thinks I'm a proper idiot, and honestly, she's probably spot on.

I’m shakin’ my head. This part... it's delicate, touchy even. If this don't get me a smack, then I don't know what will, and let's be honest, I probably deserve it. There's only a step or two between us, and I just need one to reach her. So, as smooth as I can manage, trying not to come off like some sort of creep, I lean in and press a kiss to her lips, soft as a feather. Not the kind of kiss that says 'Let’s get it on,' just a simple one, nothing more than innocent. Her lips are as soft as I imagined, a real treat.

It's just a brief brush of lips, nothin’ that would make the Vicar choke on his tea, and it’s over pretty quick. But when I pull away, she's got this dreamy look on her face, like she's lost in thought, all starry eyed.

"Is that because you scared the Hell out of me?"

"No, well, a bit of that too. It's more 'cause I've been a proper fool since I first set eyes on you, haven't even said a 'thank you'—you -- you've no idea what this means," 

Can't put it into words, can ya? I mean, how do you even describe something like this? It's like givin' sight to a blind bloke or makin' a cripple strut their stuff again, but in a way, ain't that what she's done? I turn ‘round and slowly lift my wings, not to show off or anything, but just so she can get a proper gander at 'em. She saw 'em when they were shattered, hangin' by a thread, slowly fallin' to pieces and takin' me with 'em. Somehow, I reckon if I can show her how powerful they are now, how I love takin' off into the sky, it might finally hit her just what she's achieved. They're massive, near five meters, and I ain't been able to hoist 'em like this in months, not like this. She's mended me, healed me. It's like a proper miracle, somethin' out of a chapter in the Bible itself. "Cheers, love."

"You're welcome," she says, still a bit breathless and looking a bit lost for words.

She’s still wearing that starstruck look and can’t help but think how nice that kis was but I know better than to push my luck with another one. As much as I'd love to but she's givin’ me a slow once-over, and it's got me feelin' a bit self-conscious, mate. Ain't never had anyone eye me up the way she's doin' right now. But I know that look, and it's tellin' me she likes what she sees.

"You gonna change into some dry pants, or is hypothermia to be your idea of a good time?" She’s quick with the sass, must have it on tap, I let out a scoff, can't help myself, and decide to let her in on a little secret. 

"You're wearin' the only other ones I've got."

She lets out an "Oh," and her reaction's a mix of surprise and a touch of embarrassment. But it ain't slow in changin' her mood. She promptly shimmies them down her legs and hands 'em back to me, just like that, like she ain’t standing half naked in front of me.

I'm a bit gobsmacked, to be honest. She's just there in my shirt, which don't exactly cover much, but she don't seem to give a toss. She just gives me this little cheeky smirk and turns ‘round, just like I did for her. Got a decent gander at them tattoos I spotted earlier, just peekin' out from under my shirt. But instead of gettin' caught oglin' her backside, I start working on my boots, tryin' not to make it too obvious that I'm stealin' glances at her legs, like I said, the shirt don’t cover much. Can't help it though, they're right at eye level, and it's not a bad view. She does this thing where she uses one foot to rub the top of the other, like she's cold or somethin'. Makes sense though don’t it, toes are always the first things to freeze. Comes off as cute, it does.

I kick the boots near the fire to dry and make fast work of my trousers, feelin' the chill seep into my bones as soon as air hits my skin and I’m steppin' into the joggers, quick as I can. I gotta admit, it's bleedin' nice to feel a bit drier, even if I'm still shiverin' from the rain. The fire's cracklin' away, castin' a warm glow over the room, and I can see her silhouette against the flickerin' light.

"Alright then, love," I clear my throat, trying not to overstep by touching her, not after practically manhandling her earlier and that kiss I just stole. She's lookin’ at me proper now, can practically feel her eyes burning into me. 

"See somethin' you like?" 

Can’t help but be a bit cheeky, can I? I’m expecting the usual response: a blush, a look-away, or a tell-off, like most birds do. Not Ivy, though, she ain’t most birds. She meets my gaze dead on, sporting a little look that’s pure mischief if I’ve ever seen it, before going toe to toe with me, reaching for the back of my neck and pulling me down, planting one on me. It ain't the kinda kiss that'd make a priest blush, but it feels like a million quid. 

"What's that for?" 

"Because I didn’t think you’d do it again," Well, she ain't exactly wrong, but if I'd known she was playing that game, I'd have skipped giving her clothes to change into and headed straight for the main event. You don't kiss a bloke like that unless you're lookin' for trouble.

"All you had to do was ask, love," Women, they're all over the place, ain’t they? Here I am thinkin’ she’s just some shy girl but nah, she's the type who'll snog your face off until you forget your own blinking name.

"Are you sure about this? You barely know me," Am I really bein’ the voice of reason here? The bloke is the one pointin’ out how crazy it is to shack up with a stranger? She takes a step back, maybe wonderin’ if I'm havin’ second thoughts. But that ain’t the case at all. I slip my arm around her, stoppin’ her retreat, letting her know I'm more than interested, just a tad wary. "It's just... seems a bit reckless, you know? Hooking up with a bloke you've only just met." As soon as I hear my own words, I kick myself for being such a twit and pray to anyone listenin’ that she don’t get cold feet.

She flashes me a grin, one that's teeming with mischief and a hint of wicked intentions, and it puts me at ease. It's clear that Ivy is doing exactly what she wants to do at this moment. We're just a pair lookin’ a bit of comfort tonight. She’s kissin’ me and each one is hotter than the last, and she knows how to keep a bloke yearning for more, that's for sure. In between those lips of hers, she starts talking to me.

"Your name's Warren, you've got goddamned angel wings and can actually fly." She says before locking lips with me again. "You might come off as a bit of an ass, but you're one hell of a kisser." Is that about right? "You're feeling lonely, and I've got my moments too. And if even half of what you just told me is true, it looks like you could use someone to spoil you a bit."

Blimey, did she just say all that? My blood's runnin' hot, and it feels like my heart's ready to burst out of my chest. She's got my undivided attention now, if she didn't have it before. Ain't even heard this girl so much as swear, but now it's all 'goddamned this' and 'you're a good kisser.' And she wants to spoil me? Bloody hell.  Who is this lass anyway? Hang on, you know what? I couldn't give a toss. She can do as she pleases, and I'm not going to complain. 

I feel her arms cinched tight around my neck, her voice oozing with confidence as she peppers me with kisses, and my daft brain is stuck on the fact that she reckons I'm a good kisser and wants to treat me, mullin’ over how she'll manage that, as if she hasn't already done more than enough for me. 

As if she hasn't already put me back together; complete.

As she's layin' them on me, I'm takin' in more than just her taste, the faint hint of rain on her, mixed with that sweet, addictive flavor that's all her. I can feel the warmth of her soft lips pressin' against mine, and her breath, it's got that soft tickle, like a whispered secret that makes the hairs on my neck stand on end. The sweet scent of her skin mixed with the fresh rain lingerin' in the air gets my senses all stirred up. Her fingers are tangled in my hair, tugging at it just enough to send shivers down my spine, and my heart's drummin' a wild beat, like I'm at a bloody rock concert. Every touch and taste's screamin' at me, and I can't help but want more of it. The way she presses her body against mine, hips fitting perfectly with mine, sends a rush of heat through me. 

It's like I'm on bloody fire, and it's all her fault.

Solitude wasn't ever my cup of tea, and who in their right mind would want that anyway? Who wants to miss out on moments like this?

As my knees hit the sofa, I tumble back, my wings instinctively unfoldin' to help me keep my balance. It's a move I've missed, a little habit that ain't been possible for months. Must make for quite the sight. She perches herself on my lap like she belongs there, eager for more. A right stunning bird's got me pinned to the sofa in front of a crackling fire, and I sure as hell didn't reckon this mornin' would lead to this steamy rendezvous. Feelin' that pleasant haze wash over me, the kind that makes you a bit drowsy 'cause you're just so damn relaxed and every touch is pure bliss. Missed this, bein' kissed, and feelin' them gentle caresses. The fire in my gut's roarin', tellin' me a night of wild passion's on the horizon, and sleep ain't even a consideration.

She's all in, her hands tangled up in my hair as our lips, teeth, and tongues doin' this fiery tango. I like a bird who knows what she wants, and Ivy is proving to be nothin' short of electrifyin' and I'm more than happy to fly a little closer to the sun.

That tongue of hers, it’s makin’ my head spin, and got my cock wonderin' what other talents that tongue possesses. My entire body's pulsing with the kinda want that makes you feel like a teenager again.

Her hands are all over me, up my shoulders, around the back of my neck, and just where my wings are. It's a touch I haven't had in ages, and I've bloody well forgotten how good it feels. That spot's a bit sensitive, it's ruffling my feathers in every sense of the word. It's like tugging on strands of hair, sending shivers down your spine.

She's caught me off guard, that's for sure, but I'm not so daft that I forget how to treat a girl. It just takes me a second to get my bearings. It's hard to keep your wits about you when most of your blood's rushing south, if you catch my drift. Her hair feels like silk through my fingers, and while I’m enjoying that mouth of hers, I wanna taste more. She's making these little sounds when I start kissin’ her neck, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Music to my ears, it is.

Every bird's got her soft spots, those secret places that make her jump, whimper, and get all squirmy and hot for you when you kiss or touch her. With her long hair, I'd wager my last quid that hers is on her neck under her ear. A little love bite tells me I've hit the mark. When I give that spot a little nip, she clings onto my hair tighter, and her hips start pressin’ into mine. Kissing is top-notch, but it's clear we're both itching for more. I want her on her back, legs wrapped around me as we lose ourselves in the heat of the moment. Call me chivalrous, but I reckon I owe this girl one hell of a ride tonight. 

I want her to see bloody stars and take her so high she won't want to come back down. 

Her legs are tremblin’ when I touch her, but I think it's got more to do with how much she's loving it and less about being nervous. I think I'm getting to her, but it's not enough; I need her closer. I want all these clothes between us gone, and every inch of her skin on mine. Though I'd love to rip her damn shirt off and toss it aside, I'm waiting to see if she has a change of heart, plus I don’t exactly have spares. Girls lose their nerve sometimes, you know. I've got quite the tent pitched, and it'd be a shame if I had to take care of it myself. 

Ivy's just as eager as I am, giving me a hand as I lift her arms, and the shirt slips off in a flash. She wasn't sportin’ anything beneath it, and I can feel her pebbled skin against mine and I groan. It’s hard to keep me eyes open but when I do I catch a glimpse of black knickers, maybe something silky like satin, with a hint of lace. They look stunning, but they've got to go. Seeing a girl like this is a breath of fresh air: Her hair's all tousled, and her breathing sounds like she's just finished a marathon, mad with want. With each kiss, she's becoming more and more insatiable, and now there's one less thing between us.

Can't really explain it, but I'm still a bit on edge about touching her, daft as it sounds. She's starkers on my lap, her tongue's down my throat, tits pressed into my chest and she's grabbing me, grindin’ into me, making all those noises that drive a bloke mental. She's snagged my lip between her teeth, and them hands of hers are scratchin’ their way down my stomach till she's got at my joggers, rubbing my hips, hips rocking against mine. It's embarrassing, the sounds I'm makin’ but she seems to like 'em just fine.

Can't help but grab her by the backside and pull her right against me, showing her what them kisses are doing to me, I’m hard as bleedin’ steel, can feel my cock leaking beggin’ to be touched. It's been ages since I've had a good shag, and it didn't feel half as good as this. 

That tongue of hers, it's gonna be a proper challenge, innit? I mean, ain't no bloke gonna complain about a girl with skills, but the issue is she's too damn good at it. Feels so good it's like walking a tightrope, ya know? Gotta keep my composure and make sure I ain't done before the main event even starts. Gotta slow things down or switch gears, anything to keep control, mate.

Here's the thing about girls when they're into you, they like looking right into your eyes. Can't say for sure why, but I reckon it's 'cause they want to see us at our most vulnerable. Or maybe it's 'cause they're seeing a side of us no one else does. Not even our closest mates get that look. It's all just for them. And that's when I get my chance to turn the tables a bit more in my favor.

She's breathing heavy, pulling back from a kiss, and looking at me like she's lost in a fog, same one I’m stumblin’ my way through. Feels like she might say something for a minute, but I reckon her brain's working about as well as mine is.

Her expression is a treat when I manage to snake a hand between us, slippin’ beneath those black knickers to find she's in a right state, all heated up and practically on fire, drippin’, and desperate as they come. She seizes up, and I can see the shiver that travels from the top of her head down to her toes when I find that little spot between her legs, the one that makes her moan. Her mouth falls open against mine, not kissing me, not uttering a single word. It's as if she can't even form proper sentences. That's the sweet spot, the one most blokes overlook, thinking their cocks are all that's needed to satisfy a woman. But that's not the case; you've got to give attention everywhere. Gotta to take your time with them. Trust me, it's well worth every second when they've got that look in their eyes. You know the one, that wild gaze that says, ‘We're not going anywhere until I've had my fill of you.’

Eyes wide, lips quivering, body shivering, that's when you've found your rhythm and I’ve found hers. Rollin’ her hips against my hand, an’ she's letting out these little moans with each little twirl of my thumb. She feels like silk, hot, wet and soft.

"How's that, love?" 

I know I've got her right where I want her, she's falling apart in my lap. Can see her brain short-circuiting on the spot, words are a struggle, but her body's telling me everything I need to know. She manages a nod, though. It's like she's had a few too many, eyes heavy, chest heaving. Her back’s arching and she’s biting down on her lip, I can tell she's getting close. That didn’t take long, I’m either readin’ this girl like a book or it’s just been that long, and anything will set her off, though I’m hopin’ it’s the first one. 

Seeing her like this, it's a far cry from the scrappy ginger girl who climbed in through a busted church window and traded barbs with me. She's gripping onto me, burning into my eyes with hers, and I thought I had her then and there, but then I feel those fingers of hers on the back of my neck, making their clever way down near my wings, and I know I'm in trouble. Guess she picked up on my sweet spot. I can feel the tips of her fingers dancing between my shoulder blades, my wings barely touching, a caress so soft that if I didn't know better, I'd think it was just a breeze. But I do know better, and this little minx is doing it on purpose.

The little smirk on her lips is just confirming what I already know. She's trying to hold off, thinks she can outlast me. Well, two can play at this game. 

"That’s lovely, darlin’ but I bet you go before I do," It’s hard to keep the stutter out of my breath.

But then there's that look in her eyes again, the one that tells me she ain't gonna make it easy on me, and I believe her. She leans in close like she's gonna whisper something only I can hear, and I can feel her lips and tongue on my ear, and it's bloody hard not to shudder or make a sound.

She’s got something up her sleeve, and when I feel her teeth tugging in my ear she says it, the thing that comes close to making me cummin’ in my damn joggers. 

“Warren, please make me cum baby,”

Bloody hell. I'm biting my tongue so hard I’m waitin’ to taste blood. At least, I’m tryin’, until she lands a kiss on me and licks her way into my mouth. Hearin’ her say my name like that, feelin’ her teeth graze my skin, she actually said ‘please’. Called me ‘baby’ like I’m her fella. She’s beggin’ me to get her off, no joke.

Never had a girl get me fired up like this, never wanted anyone half as much as I want her right now. Never growled at a girl out of sheer hunger. But that's exactly what I'm doing. I've got a handful of her hair wrapped around my fist to pull, just enough to get at her neck.

"Asked you a question," It's a bloody challenge to keep my cool and not just dive right in, rip those knickers off and sink my cock into her right here, right now. "How's. That?" I give her a couple of gentle love taps, and she's jerkin’ in my lap, letting out these desperate little whimpers. It's like I've thrown petrol on the fire between us, and she's not the only one who's getting worked up, my cocks so hard it hurts.

I might have the wings of an angel, but I can play the part of a devil just as well.

She's fumbling for the right words, trying to get 'em out, but it's like she's swallowing her nerves and revving up her brain at the same time. No doubt I've got her all riled up. I can hear the desperation in her voice, but she's back to kissin’ me like she means it, like she's starved for it.

Her lips on mine ain't gonna change what I'm waitin’ to hear from her. It's not gonna distract me for long, either. I'll keep her right on the edge if I have to. Slowing down those little circles on her clit till she practically sobs, just need her to tell me and I’ll finish her off.

"G– Good. God, it's good!" There it is. "Warren!" I could get used to hearing her say my name like that, like she's pleading or something. Ask and ye shall receive, then, eh? As promised I start up again on her, working my thumb in circles faster and tighter, it’s tempting to slip in a finger but I’m pretty sure if I do that’ll be the end of it for me. “Fuck!” 

Can't explain it. Don't know what it is about hearing Yanks curse, especially the ladies. Even more so when they're letting out those choice words while you've got your hands all over them and they’re getting close, it's a real turn-on. Some might say Americans throw the word ‘fuck’ like we throw out the word ‘bloody’ but in the heat of the moment, it's like a fiery exclamation mark it's like music to my ears, especially when it's Ivy saying it, and I love it. She's ready to fly, not giving a damn about anything else and I'll make sure she gets there, just needs one final nudge... 

"Ivy, want you to kiss me, then I want you to come," I tell her, and she does, our teeth clinking together as she kisses me hard, that the last bit of resistance in her breaks, and she comes undone. She's moanin' into our kiss, her hands are clawin’ at me like she can't get enough and writhin' against me. 

Could be a spot for some fun here if she’s not too sensitive, gotta be careful, don't wanna mess up the vibe. I’m barely touching her now, occasionally grazing hte inside of her thigh, I can tell by how she's squirming that she's a bit sensitive, most girls are, but I’d bet money I can have her thrashin’ again here soon. There's something about watching a girl lose herself in an orgasm like that and knowing you're the reason, it's a proper power trip. She's looking at me like she's famished, and I slip my hand from her knickers, trying not to startle her. But she gives me a surprise when she snatches my hand and slips my thumb past her lips licking it clean, all the while keeping her eyes locked on mine. My cocks harder than it’s ever been and ready for attention, something about that feeling, having a girl suck on your fingers, let’s just say it leaves little to our imaginations. 

She's on me again, layin' kisses down my neck and chest, gettin' lower and lower, then she sinks ot the floor and I'm strugglin' to keep my breathin' steady. I've seen that look before, know what's comin' next, and damn right, I've earned it. Feels like I'm frozen, seeing her look up at me, all that anticipation's gonna do me in. But she's takin' her sweet time, not rushin' for nothin'. I can't even look away, not when she's pullin' at my joggers and my blood's startin' to boil. Next thing I know, she's chuckin' 'em over her shoulder and takin' me in hand, givin' me these slow, soft strokes. My breath's caught in my throat, like I'm breathin', but no air's comin' in or out, just goin' through the motions. It'll catch up in a sec, and bloody hell, it's amazin', never felt better. 

My eyes are drooping, and I can't keep my head up anymore, so I lean back and let the it all wash over me. Closing me eyes, takin’ it all in, just feeling everything. Her hands are warm, her lips soft, and her touch is just right. It's absolutely spot-on. Every touch sends a jolt through me, it's ramping me up a bit more, but I've got to say, I'm not in any hurry to take the reins. She said she wants to spoil me, and I'm dying to find out what that's like. Normally, it's a mutual affair, both of you getting into it, but this? It's not the usual back and forth, both of you going at it. This ain't like any other time with any other girl. Ivy, she's taking her time, making sure I feel every bit of what she's got to offer, and If tomorrow I'm a goner, then I'll go out with a smile on my face.

It's like a proper enchantment, the world's gone all soft, and all I can bloody feel is pleasure, not a lick of pain, and I couldn't give two figs about being naked right now, even though we're in a church. My mind's gone off to the races, too far gone to care about being self-conscious, thanks to the magic Ivy's working on me. 

When she's finally done teasing me, that mouth of hers swallows my cock whole, and a groan tears itself from my throat, and I couldn't care less if the whole world hears. I'm throwing every bloody curse word I know, but none of them seem powerful enough to describe how damn amazing this feels. It's a sensation I haven't had in ages. And just like that, my eyes snap open, and my hips jerk as if I've lost control over myself. All I want is more, more of what she's giving; hot, wet, and sweet. 

I can't help the noises escaping my mouth, growing louder and louder, which might sound a bit pathetic, but honestly, I couldn't give a toss. I just need her not to stop, not with that clever mouth of hers or those wicked lips. My hands are tangled up in her hair, not that I'm trying to pull, but it seems to encourage her, spurring her on.

Takes me a full minute to realize she's slowing down and planting kisses low across my stomach. Finally, I can catch my breath, and some thoughts are making their way through my foggy brain. 

"Warren?" She asks in between kisses that seem to whisper, 'I want you,' and devious love bites that scream, 'You're mine.' 

I manage to croak out a response, "You're not done, are you?" I sound like I've just run a flaming marathon, all out of breath and barely hanging on. I know it's selfish, but when it's been this long and she feels this good, you can't blame me. She shakes her head and lays another kiss on me, sucking on my skin hard enough to leave marks.

"No, I just need to know something." Her mouth might have stopped, but those hands of hers haven't; they're stroking, touching, keeping me right on the edge. 

"Y—yeah, love? What's that?" Can't believe I've managed that much. 

"Slow or fast?" My eyes pop open again, and I'm gobsmacked. She's giving me the choice? I don't know, and I don't give a toss, as long as she doesn't stop. But the longer I look at her, it's clear she wants me to pick, and now I'm in a proper bind. Fast is smashing when you're in a rush to get off, but I'm in no hurry, and I want this to last as long as it bleedin' can. Slow? Well, slow takes a load of discipline not to give in as it all builds up. 

"Slow." Dunno if the angel or the devil on my shoulder picked that one, but this is one of those times when there's no right or wrong answer. 

And a second later, she grins and says, "Good answer," and gets back to it, taking my cock back into her mouth slower this time till I hit the back of her throat. Bleeding amazing. It was a right bloody good answer.

My throat's gonna be raw tomorrow, not that there'll be a cuppa strong enough to sort that out, but that's the last thing on my mind. Licking up and down slow, lapping at the crown of my cock, then sucking hard and slow, flicking her tongue in all the right spots. Her hand’s wrapped ‘round me, stroking and between the two it’s a miracle I’ve not already spilled into her mouth yet. All I can think is 'Not yet, not yet' as Ivy's got me hurtling closer and closer to that mind-blowing finish line. Stupid as it sounds, I'm powerless, couldn't move even if I wanted to. My body's gone and taken over, saying 'Sit down, mate, and enjoy the ride.' 

"Ivy! Love, y--you've gotta stop. Ain't gonna last much longer," 

I manage to choke out, but she don’t seem to care, just looking me dead on and moaning as she swallows me again. If anything, she speeds up a bit, the pace still slow and steady, but now there's a sense of urgency to get me there. She's bloody brilliant at this, I was right about that tongue of hers, licking me like a goddamned lolly, I can feel my eyes fluttering shut, and my limbs turning to lead. I'm stuck, just caught in this blissful trance, letting Ivy take charge as she's dead set on seeing me through.

Is this what they call heaven, then?

Y'know, there comes a moment when you've crossed the point of no return, when it's all steam ahead and no brakes, and for me, it was when Ivy shot back her answer. I told her she needed to slow down, so I could take her right, but this girl, this devil in an angel's guise, just gave me this cheeky grin, mouthful of my cock said: 

"You will." 

Well, that’s the end of it.

My gut tightens and it hits me like a bloody freight train, ripping through my body like a burst dam. Just spillin’ everything I’ve got, can feel her swallowing, and I dunno how she’s doin’ it but she doesn’t miss a drop. No control left, hands in her hair, pulling like a madman, going at it like a wild animal, growling and moaning like I'm barely even human. It’s hard not to grab her hair and fuck her mouth, it's too much, like an electric shock running through every last nerve I've got, sending ‘em into overdrive. 

All I’m seein’ are these bloody fairy lights, then black spots start cropping up in my vision, and it's just too damn intense. But Ivy, she, don't, stop. No, she keeps at it, working me, taking everything I've got to offer, she just keeps swallowing.

In the heat of the moment, I'm blurting out her name, begging her not to stop, tellin’ her how damn good it feels, and I might've even told her I love her, though I'm not entirely sure.

I’ve never cum so hard in my life. And she swallowed every bit of it, like I was the treat and not the other way round. Never seen a girl take as much pleasure in a fella like Ivy just has, taking her time with me, leaving me in the aftermath, shuddering all the way down to my toes. I’m a sweaty mess but I’ve never felt more alive and wanted.

After something like that, I figure I'll need a bit of a breather before I'm ready for another round, and believe me I want one. When she's finally had her fill of me, she climbs back into my lap licking her lips like a cat who’s just got the cream, but that look on her face makes me wonder what's going on in her head. Never been one for kissin’ right after a girl's had her fun swallowin’ my cum down like that, but Ivy lays those kisses on my skin, moving slowly up my chest until she reaches my lips, and suddenly, I couldn't care less about what's happened before. I want to kiss her till she's trembling, make her feel a fraction of how good she made me feel.

Her kisses are easy and slow now, and she fits perfectly in my lap, like she belongs there. And I reckon she does. 

"Love, that was bleedin' amazing." She grins lazily and kisses me again. "Wish you'd stopped, though. I'll need a few minutes ‘fore the man downstairs is up again." 

When a girl lets out that low, sexy laugh, you know she's got something up her sleeve. And Ivy's laugh tells me she’s playing with a fixed deck.

"Wha’s funny?" I ask, trying to get in on the joke. Then, I feel her hands around me wrapping ‘round my cock again and my head falls back a second. 

“Fuckin’ hell!”

I'm waiting for the pain that comes from bein’ so damn senstitive after cumming, but it never arrives. I look down between us and it's quite a shock when I realize I'm ready for another round a lot sooner than expected. She did this, I'm sure of it. ‘Fixed deck’ doesn't even begin to cover it. She's rigged the entire bloody game.

"Told you," She says with a grin and a wink before pushing me back against the sofa.

No way, not a bleedin' chance. Except here I am, starin' at the evidence that tells a different story. I'll have to give myself a right bollocking later for nearly scarin' off this rare bird. What kind of tosser was I being? I'm not usually one for believin' in love at first sight, but Ivy here might be makin' me rethink a few things.

Sure enough, I'm ready for more, and once the shock's worn off, I'm all for it. I pull her into a kiss that has her meltin' against me, arms wrapped around my neck. There are a few ways we could do this, but I'm likin' the position we're in. I can see her face, kiss her, and she's right here with me, sharin' the same breath. I wanna see her when she sinks onto my cock. Wanna watch her fall apart again for me. Wanna see those eyes of hers locked onto me because I'm the only thing that's making her feel this good, and I plan to.

I'm up for takin' control now, but she stops me with a hand on my chest and a shake of her head. It seems she's not done havin' her fun yet. Alright, I'll let her take the lead a bit longer. I did say I like a girl who can take charge, didn't I? 

"How do you want this, love?" She can have me any way she likes. 

"Keep your eyes open." What's that? She wants what? "I want to look at you." 

Whatever the lady fancies. She wants to have a good look at me, see when my eyes go wide and bore right into me. Doesn't bother me, but odds are all she'll see is my eyes rolling to the back of my head. A suck off is brilliant and all, but nothing beats the proper deal, and it's been a bit since I've had both in one night. It's usually one or the other. Oh well, if that gets her off, it's fine by me. Fine by me.

I know she’s trying to stand to shimmy those knickers down but it’s too far, and God, I need to feel her squeeze my cock, right now. So I grab her hips, keepin’ her right where she’s at, pulin’l ‘em to the side and tease her for a minute, close enough. Can feel how hot and drippin’ wet she is, one hand wrapped ‘round her waist the other on my cock pumpin’ a few times for good measure before I push in. Lettin’ her sink down nice and slow, giving her as much time as I can to settle from how much I’m stretching her. Holy fucking hell, I’m struggling to not just start driving up into her, it so fucking tight and it’s a struggle to keep my head in straight. It’s harder to keep my eyes open than I thought. Ivys gone a bit limp in my arms, her mouth’s just hanging open and she lets out this sweet little whimper all the while having a staring contest with me as we sit there together for a sec, gettin’ used to one another.

Can feel tremors race all over me as she squeezes my cock, it’s fucking perfect. There’s something so intense about how she’s looking at me and I tell ya, it don’t look like the same bird I met tonight. The longer I look at her the more she looks like an Angel. My chest is heaving again and it takes a solid minute before I can move or speak again. 

"Alright, love?"

I'm praying she says yes, tells me she's never felt better, asks me to fuck her nicely. There's a blush coloring those cheeks of hers, just a bit, and it's lovely. She's lovely like this. No barriers between us, as real as it gets. It feels good, lettin’ her see all of me. Can't explain why I want to kiss her fast and hard but fuck her nice and slow, it just feels like the right thing to do.

"Just give me a sec!" She says, nodding, still getting used to the feel, looks like it’s been a bit for her too. "Fuck, you feel good." Well, if that doesn't stroke a bloke's ego, I don't know what will. It's sure as hell stroking mine just fine, my cocks twitching inside her like it’s tryin’ to kickstart this whole thing.

“Been a minute for you, love?” She gives me a nod, ain’t that a shame? 

“Yeah, a little bit.” Can't help but chuckle a bit and give her a long and slow kiss and I reach up for one of her nipples and start teasin’ it while I give a lazy thrust. 

“That helping?” 

She nods against my lips and grins, wrapping her arms around me again. “Yeah, do that again.” She's moaning with each little movement, and I give her a nod and shift her a bit in my arms, setting her down in a way that's a bit comfier for us both. "Go slow." 

"You're gorgeous." Like she asked me, I go slow, slipping out just enough with a groan before going back in. It's intense, letting her feel all of me, sending chills down my back, and she's gripping me like a vice. "Sexy as hell." Out again slowly. "Razor-smart." And back in. It's gonna be hard to keep this pace. It's enough to drive a bloke mad. "So fucking hot, and tight for me, yeah?” Each time I say something like that I can feel her clenchting me harder. She likes it. Could tell her all the thoughts runnin’ through my head right now, tell her how I wanna throw her on her hands and knees and fuck her till she screams my name, tell her I know she likes hearing me talk to her like this cause I can feel her squeeze my cock. 

Gotta remind myself to slow down, plenty of time for the harder stuff later, right now I’ve got my cock buried in her and it’s killing me to go so slow, pretty sure she can tell cause after a few thrusts she bucks against me and tells me to go faster and thank God for it. I give her a quick thrust and she jolts then melts back against me.

“Like that?” My voice is harsh and I’m gonna news a cuppca tea after this.

“Harder.” Whatever you want, Ivy.

It’s gonna be hard keeping a rhythm like this, I love having her on my lap where I can see her face, see those tits of her bounce each time I rut against her but I can already feel it killin’ my legs. Need a change of position to keep the pace, 

“Hold tight,” I wrap my arms ‘round her legs and put her on her back, that red hair of hers is fanned out and now that I’m driving my cock into her properly I watch her eyes roll back and I see she’s got freckles, all over her cheeks, down her neck and across her chest. 

As we find a rhythm that satisfies both of our cravings, my eyes flicker between Ivy, lost in her own little nirvana, and the statues of saints and religious paintings watching us – like some voyeuristic audience. It's safe to say this ain't your typical Sunday service. Can't help but let out a chuckle in my chest; it all depends on what you're worshipping, doesn't it? Two thoughts cross my mind. First, I'm probably heading straight to hell for this. Second, and more importantly, I don't give a damn. Maybe I'll get lucky, and it won't count against my soul. Is a church still a church if the only parishioners it sees are pigeons? I've had a right mess of a life from the day my wings popped up, and if eternity's taking a southerly route, might as well savor it – every touch, every kiss, every thrust, every sound. No sense in second-guessing it now.

I've nearly died, been maimed, imprisoned, jeered at, and left broken and alone. In the grand scheme of things, the world tearing itself apart over mutant or human, all that, this feels right. No pain, no judgment, no wrong – just right. Is it dumb luck that brought Ivy to my church, or is it something else? I'm not a man of faith, other than the belief that bad things can and will happen. Maybe I've earned some grace. I don't even realize I've slowed my pace until I feel Ivy clawing at my hips, her look a mix of 'What’s wrong?' and 'Get on with it'. Most blokes think of dirty things when they're with a girl; here I am, having existential thoughts on fate and destiny. What's wrong with me? Ivy takes charge, wrapping her legs around me, pulling me into more of those kisses that warm the cold parts of your soul and make your head spin like a record. The contrast between the sacred surroundings and the intimate act only adds to the thrill of it all.

The room's quiet now, just the rhythm of our breaths, the soft hymn of skin against skin, and the occasional pop of the fire. It's a soundtrack I'm itching to play on repeat in my head for as long as I can remember. Each note is like a tattoo on my brain, proof of the intensity we just shared, something I could get used to.

I probably look a bit spaced out because Ivy's hand reaches up, bringing me back to the present. She's got this concerned look breaking through. "Hey, where'd you go?" 

Good question, where did I go? Not where I should be, that's for sure. I should be right here, soaking in every moment with this stunning girl who's got all my attention.

"Nowhere important," I mutter, only half sure about that. There's a nagging voice in my head, tossing questions I don't have the answers to. What happens when the heat cools down, and we've had our fill? Do we part ways, or maybe stick together for a bit? Being alone isn't all it's cracked up to be, and some company wouldn't be half bad, especially if it's Ivy. Feels like I'm some teenager pondering his first crush, wondering if she 'likes' me likes me. Don't have the answers to those questions right now, but what I do know is that I want more of this. More of Ivy; more of her lips, her smile, her touch, and those noises she makes when I hit her sweet spots.

"What's going on up there?" she asks, her gaze drilling into me, like she ain't quite buying my story. 

"Wanna know where my head's at?" I shoot back, with a cheeky grin, cooking up a plan to shift focus. "Right here," I say with a sly snap of my hips, snatching her breath in a surprised gasp. I’ve no idea what’s going to happen, but with Ivy in my arms, there's nothing I want more than to dive back into the chaos we've just cooked up together. 

"With this gorgeous girl, causing a bit of a stir, doing things that’ll make a vicar blush." I get back to ramping up the pace I lost, and it seems to satisfy Ivy in more ways than one. Existential dilemmas can wait; right now, it's about us, our fire, and the sweet mess we're making. I'm kicking it up a notch, done with the slow and steady rhythm, now I want it harder and faster. 

She's clinging to me just like she did up in the air, but this time, there's no fear in her eyes, maybe just a bit of fear that I might hit the brakes. Those lips of hers are on my neck, marking me up good for all to see, moving with me as I rock us nearer to a spectacular finish. We're damn close now, just a breath away.

I'm delving in deeper now, and with each thrust, I can feel her squirming against me. She's desperate to get her lips back on mine, and that suits me just fine. I’m lost in this, I feel as high and untouchable now as I do when I'm soaring through the skies. She's crushin’ me tighter, and the way she's bucking an wrappin’ her legs around me, tells me she's not far off either. She ain't even looking at me anymore, eyes shut tight, hands clenched into fists above her head, like she's trying to savor every bit of how good she feels. She looks bloody amazing like this.

"Ivy," I murmur, and those emerald eyes of hers snap open. I only now realize they're the greenest eyes I've ever seen. "Look at me." She's got that blissed-out look, but she keeps her eyes open, and our fingers intertwine, somehow bringing us even closer. "Alright?" She just nods with a desperate look in her eyes, and I watch them roll back as she tenses up, back arching, lips quivering until I kiss her, swallowing up the sounds she makes. It's a sight, watching her let go. Knowing I did that to her. Still, it doesn't come close to repaying her for what she's done for me. But the night's long, and we're not hurting for time.

She's grinding against me, and I can feel it when it hits her, riding the wave of pleasure, and it's bloody amazing. Can't believe I've managed to last this long. But, bugger it, a few seconds of Ivy losing it is my undoing, and I go over the edge right after her, free-falling into that blissful abyss. Keeping up the pace like a damn jackhammer, I go stiff when I finally hit the mark and bury myself deep. It all crashes over me—hot, tight, and fast. Every nerve's on fire, and I can't hold back the groans, spouting curses and telling her how fuckin’ good she feels. Then, those fairy lights start flickering back into my vision, creating a halo around Ivy.

Fuckin’ hell, it’s a proper knockout. Loads better than the first one, hitting me like a bloody lightning bolt. It's unreal, nothing's come close to this before. No girl's ever taken me over the edge like Ivy is right now, leavin’ me shaking, feeling like I'm about to collapse.

My elbows on the ground are the only things keeping me from going completely arse over tit. I'm gasping for breath, and it feels like I can't suck it in fast enough. My hips start to stutter to a stop, and I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel Ivy's hand on my shoulder blade, stroking my back. My body's turned into a live wire, every touch from her feels like it's pushing me to the edge again. I swear I can feel my wings vibrating, and that's a new one, don't reckon that’s ever happened before. 

The tingling of Ivy's fingers over my back adds to the sensory overload, and I collapse against her, burying my face into her neck, and for a few minutes, I don't move, I can’t.

"You okay?" I'm lying here, completely knackered. I give her some muffled reply that probably sounds like gibberish, that she can't quite catch, adding a bit of humor to the situation. "Say what?" 

It’s a chore but I manage to lift my head, ”Never been better. You?” She grins and gives me a lazy smirk.

"I'm good for round three." My eyes go wide as saucers, clocking the mischievous glint in her eyes, and I quickly capture her hands before they can venture lower.

"Are you trying to kill me?" She chuckles, “Look, hate to break your heart love, but after the day I’ve had, I really am gonna need a proper breather.” 

She gives me a nod and a heavy sigh like she’s a spoiled princess not gettin’ what she wants, and I roll onto my side, let out a deep breath, and lookin’ at the ceiling. Ivy pulls herself up and looks back at me combing a hand through her tangled hair, lookin every bit as temping now as she was a bit ago. Then she looks around and makes a grab for my shirt but I’m not havin’ any of that and I give her a tug round the waist pullin’ her back against me wrapping my arms around her. "Just let me get a few winks before you go waking me up again, yeah?"

Ivy's worn me out; haven't been this knackered in ages, and I definitely need some shut-eye before we dive back into the fun and games. From the sounds of it, I'll need it because Ivy's up for more. It’s only been a few minutes and she's already starting to drift off, I can feel her breath tickling my chest, her legs tangling with mine. It feels good to have her in my arms, my hand stroking her back. She lets out this content, sleepy, little sigh—pretty cute, and she snuggles into me, making herself at home, and it feels nice to have her close. So nice that I feel a twinge of panic for a second.

"Ivy," I say. She gives me a sleepy little 'Mmhmm.' I can't explain why it's so hard to get the words out—well, that's not true. I know exactly why it's hard because she's close, and she said it perfectly earlier: 'People can't hurt you if you don't let 'em in close.' Rip the plaster off, Warren… if I wake up and she's gone again, at least I've spoken my peace. "You gonna be here when I wake up?"

For a second, I wonder if I took too long to get the words out and she fell asleep, but when I feel her laughing and she traces little designs on my chest, I know she's awake. 

"D'you want me to be here when you wake up?" It's a simple question but not easy to answer. Ivy's come into what was left of my life and turned it all topsy-turvy. It feels good to have her here with me. Oh, hell with it, what's the worst she can say? 

"Yeah, I do."

She plants a sweet little kiss on me that makes me feel warm. "Then I'll be here." I don't even bother trying to hide my relief. She'll be here. She said she'd stay. She'll be here when I wake up. 

Yeah, she said that, but why don't I believe her? 

I didn't even realize my breathing was picking up until Ivy sits up, planting another kiss on me. Lips brushing mine, making those voices a bit quieter, like she's putting my worries at ease. "I'll be here, promise." 

It's a stupid reason to trust someone, just because they ‘promise’. How many billions of promises have been made and broken? But I can feel it in the way Ivy kisses me, an how she’s lookin’ at me. Guess that makes me stupid. If Ivy says she'll be here, then I believe her. That makes it easier to drift off to sleep—the first peaceful night's sleep I've known in a long while.

#i have too many stories #fanfiction is life #original character #alternate universe #x men apocalypse #warren worthington iii #X-men angel #archangel x men #warren Worthington iii x original female character #smut #pov first person #british character #warren worthington smut #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington the third #one shot #warren is angsty #church smut #going to hell for this

[michelle-is-writing]

Clean, Warren Worthington iii

Word Count: 1.5k~

After a mission, Warren’s wings are always dirty. No matter what the mission consisted of, Warren will always come back to me with his once white wings covered in dried blood and dirt. Although, he never wants help in cleaning them.

“I’m fine,” He’ll say, “I’ve been doing this for a long time - I’m okay.”

However, I don’t feel right just letting him go into our shower (a large one made for him) after a long mission and try to scrub his wings while trying not to pass out from exhaustion. With a good conscience, I can’t be okay with just letting him do that. In spite of my feelings, Warren still doesn’t want me helping him.

I know it’s because he fears being vulnerable, and if anyone else were to go through what he went through, they would feel the same way. However, since we’ve been dating for a while now, I want Warren to be more comfortable being vulnerable around me. I know that he knows I won’t repeat the actions of others before me, but I want him to trust and believe that simple fact at the same time.

“Warren, can I come in?” I ask, gently knocking on our bathroom door. On the other side, I can hear the water running, but not the shower. It’s been on for several minutes now, and usually, Warren would have already been finished at this point. Warren’s probably sitting on the floor by the tub, so tired that he can’t even push himself to get up to get undressed and climb in the tub.

“Of course,” I hear him respond, his voice full of fatigue. His most recent mission took nearly a week to complete as it involved gathering other mutants from around the world. Thinking back to watching him lug himself around earlier, having a hard-enough time trying to keep his eyes open then, I can only imagine how tired he is right now.

Stepping into the bathroom, I see that my presumptions are correct. Warren is so tired that he can hardly sit up straight. “Baby, let me help you,” I speak softly to him, but like always, he shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” Warren almost groans with a limp wave of his hand. “I’m just gonna... sit here for a few and then get in the shower,” he further explains, his eyes slowly closing more and more as each word leaves his lips.

With a frown, I shake my head before crouching in front of him and placing my hands on each side of his face, therefore gaining his full attention. “Honey, please,” I start, sliding my thumb over his cheekbone with a feather-like touch. “Let me help you, and before you reject me,” I cut him off right as he starts to speak. “You can always tell me to stop at any point if you get uncomfortable or uneasy, okay? I will understand.”

My final words seem to win him over as he ultimately gives in by closing his eyes and leaning forward to rest his head against my chest. “Fine,” he murmurs, “but instead of a shower, can we take a bath? I honestly don’t want to stand up for any long period of time.”

Nodding at his tired voice, I reach a hand up to mess with his beautiful curls. “Of course,” I tell him, leaning down to kiss his temple. “Nothing sounds better,” I add, watching as he turns his head up to look at me with a smirk. Instantly, I know what he’s up to.

“Are you sure about that?” He asks, earning an eye roll back from me almost instantly.

“You know what, maybe that shower does sound better after all,” I chide, watching him break into a laugh in response to that. I love the fact that we can still joke with each other like we usually do even in moments where we’re exhausted or upset.

Eventually, Warren and I are both undressed and climbing into the bathtub where he sits in the middle and I stand on my knees behind him. The water surrounding us is warm, and because I like to treat myself when I take a bath, the smell of lavender and peonies fills the air from the soap. I want this to be as relaxing as it can be for Warren as it’s what he deserves after such a long week. Plus, I want to show my boyfriend that I truly care for him. The idea of taking a bath with your significant other may be something small to someone, but for us, this is a huge step forward.

Using my hands as a makeshift bowl, I pour water onto his wings and hair before moving onto with his golden curls. As gentle as I can, I massage some of my shampoo into Warren’s soft locks while scratching my fingers against his scalp. This earns a soft hum from him, causing me to smile.

“What?” I ask, leaning over to kiss his cheek. Instantly, Warren looks back at me with a pleased smile.

“Nothing,” he murmurs softly, resting his arms in front of him in the water. “It just... feels nice. The bath and all.”

Nodding, I lean back and continue washing his hair for a few more moments before rinsing it out and moving onto his wings. However, before I add soap to any of the feathers, I try my hardest to spot any areas to be extra careful on. After a few seconds, I sigh. I’m glad I chose to do this before anything else.

“Warren, were you hit with something?” I ask, moving a few feathers to the side on his right wing. “There’s like a scab or something with dried blood around it,” I inform him, looking at the back of his head for any response.

A few seconds pass before a small “oh yeah” falls from Warren’s lips. “One of the guys we were trying to help led us to a group of enemies that we found out were against mutants, so we had to fight them. I don’t exactly remember when I was shot, but I remember burning pain at one point.”

Instantly, my eyes widen as big as saucers. “You were shot?!” I exclaim, moving to sit across from him in the water. Warren simply nods as if it wasn’t a big deal. “And you didn’t go to the nurses station when you got back?!”

“No,” He answers, smiling soon afterward. “I wanted to come and see you as soon as I got here,” Warren confesses, leaning forward while moving his hands from the water and over to my hands. “I missed you a lot, you know.”

Smiling, I nod at him as my tense stature softens a little bit. “I missed you too,” I tell him, moving closer as his arms move to wrap around me and pull me close. “But you got shot, and that’s more important than seeing me as soon as you got here.”

“Eh, I disagree,” Warren chides, causing me to roll my eyes. “Besides, it’s healing, right? There’s no fresh blood or sign of infection?”

Looking back at the wound, I sigh. “No, it looks fine,” I note, dragging my finger against it like I did earlier with his cheek. “Does it hurt though?” As the question falls from my lips, I look at his face for any response to me touching his wound. His eyes stay on me the whole time and they don’t wince either.

“Not when I’m with you, nurse (Y/n),” Warren states, the smirk he wore earlier following in suit. He knows how sappy and ridiculous his comment was. I know he intended it to be that way too.

“Warren, shut up,” I murmur after a few moments of silence between us. Immediately, he giggles at my comment before pulling me close and hugging me to him.

“Ugh, I love you so much,” he groans, nuzzling his nose into my neck. His wet curls graces the side of my face, and as I look over his shoulder, I see his wings encasing us like they usually do when I’m around Warren. I don’t know if he does this on purpose or if he even realizes that his wings do that, but that doesn’t make it any less wonderful.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve my own angel,” Warren whispers to me, causing me to turn my head toward him and stare as he smiles, his eyes shut in a mix of tranquility and bliss. Seeing him so relaxed causes me to smile as well before leaning close and kissing his soft porcelain cheek.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve mine either~”

#Warren Worthington #Warren Worthington III #warren worthington imagines #warren worthington iii imagines #warren worthington iii imagine #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington iii x reader #warren worthington x reader #ben hardy #ben jones #ben hardy imagines #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x fem reader #ben hardy x reader

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Christmas with You

Pairing: Warren Worthington x gn!reader

Warning: tooth-rotting fluff, a little angst

Summary: A didn’t like the holiday season, until they met B

A year ago Warren would have run up the stairs, up to his room slammed it shut and put his headphones in. Drone out the cheery atmosphere with loud Metal music. Now he held you in his arms while the younger students ripped off the paper from their presents.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck. His warm breath tickled you but you couldn’t move away from him as he held you by your waist. “Warren, It really tickles. Please stop.” He made a noise of protest at your plea. “I don’t want to.” You huffed out a laugh. “Maybe lay your head on my shoulder but not breath onto my neck. You know how ticklish I am there.”

Warren smirked to himself. He knew how ticklish your neck area was and still used it against you. He pulled you tighter to his broad chest. “You know I love it when I can pull you close to my body and cuddle you.” You grumbled as he snuggled further into your neck. You didn’t think it was possible but Warren found a way.

You watched as all the kids finished unpacking and gathering their stuff to go to bed. Warren moved from your neck to your ear making you shiver. “Thank you.” You turned your head so you could look at him. You were confused as to why he was thanking you. You didn’t even get him his gift yet. “What for?”

Warren’s arms snaked tighter around your waist. His smile widened as he got ready to tell you. “I told you once how my dad liked to do things on Christmas. Especially after my mutation broke out.” He took a deep breath. You took his large hand in yours and squeezed it in reassurance. “Well it went from bad to worse. I never believed in the spirit of Christmas until I met you.” His breath shuddered as he breathed out. “That’s why I thanked you for. I can’t thank you enough for showing me that this time of the year is so magical.”

You turned in his arms and pulled him to your lips. Warren reciprocate your kiss by intensifying desire. It made your knees week. Warren happily tighten his hold on your body.

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#warren worthington fanfic #warren worthington x you #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington the third #warren worthington iii #warren worthington fluff #31 days of december

[qeterqujll]

the hunger games (part 2); you and warren have to fight against one another in the games when you are both chosen, but what if there’s a way out? (part 1) (part 2)

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, cursing, mentions of death, wc: 2.2k

a/n: it’s been a minute. i’m tentatively posting again, but it won’t be consistent. please let me know if you like this and want more parts, or just send general thought about the characters. any inspo is welcomed and appreciated. enjoy!

“Why did you do that?” 

It’s the first time you’ve gotten a moment alone with Warren since the reaping, nearly two hours after Emma ushered you off the stage and sent you into a flurry of goodbyes, meetings with potential sponsors, and half-hearted compliments about both of your physiques. Emma seemed to be trying to appease her guilty conscience by assuring both you and herself that you seemed strong enough to make it far in the games. 

“Right,” you snapped after she commented on your tenacity during the Reaping in the face of the tasks ahead of you, “I’m sure tenacity will be a big help in killing twenty-two other people.” 

Her nervous laugh grated against your ears as she scurried away, leaving all of the tension in the room behind her. 

You stand with your back to Warren for a few moments, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm your nerves. To his credit, Warren keeps his mouth shut, eyes wide in the unfamiliar face of your fury.

“You could have survived. You would have been fine if you had just let me go. Why the fuck couldn’t you just let me go, Warren?” your voice is low, and you find it hard to meet his eyes the longer he stares at you. “You have a family back home. They need you. Our friends need you, and now we’re both going to die. Why the fuck did you- you goddamn i-idiot-” 

You fall to your knees, head pressed between your hands as you try to get a grip on your emotions. You won’t allow anyone but Warren to see you fall apart like this, and you know that you won’t have long before someone else comes looking for you to drag you to another meeting or congratulate you on being chosen. 

You take deep, staggering breaths as panic begins to claw up your throat. Your heart is beating out of your chest, and your lungs feel too full for any air to get in. You can’t breath, Jesus, you can’t breath.

Gentle hands take hold of your wrists, guiding them away from your face. Warren replaces them with his own, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

“I’ll follow you,” he whispers, tears of his own falling to the floor between you. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow you. No one, not even the fucking Capital is taking you away from me. I was never going to let you go alone. After our first reaping, I promised myself that I would follow you anywhere. Even if it led me here.”

A sob rips from your throat and you take his face in your hands, stuck between the urge to push him away and hug him as close as you can.

“You’re so stupid,” you tell him, but it’s weaker than before. Your anger begins to fade as you take him in, holding his head between your palms and running your thumbs over his cheeks. There are still tear stains on his face from the reaping, and you can see the fear clouding them. Guiltily, you feel some relief at the fact that he’s the one here beside you as he closes the distance between you. He presses his head into your neck and takes a deep, shaky breath. You bury a hand in his curls and grasp at his shirt, shaking against the onslaught of emotion that you haven’t had time to sort through. 

“I love you,” he whispers, the words muffled. “I love you so much. I’ll never leave you in there, even if it kills me.”

“God, Warren, don’t say that,” you sob, pulling him even closer. His arms tighten around you until you’re holding him between your legs so he can get closer to you. “I love you too. Even though you’re a goddamn idiot.”

“Well, this will make for a fantastic strategy.”

You jump at the voice, staring up at an amused but tired looking Erik Lehnsherr.

“What?” you mutter dumbly, sniffing as you try to compose yourself.

“Two lovestruck teenagers from district twelve, fighting to keep each other alive,” Erik sits in a chair on the far side of the room, unfazed by the intimacy that he’d interrupted, “it’s been used countless times, but it never fails to win the sympathy card. You should capitalize on that.” 

Warren stands from your embrace, keeping one hand tucked carefully into yours as he glares at Erik. 

“We aren’t characters for people to fawn at,” he grumbles, “You’re sending us off to die. The least you could do is treat us like human beings.” 

“I’ll treat you however I want if it gives you a better chance to survive. If you need to look at yourselves as characters to put on a better show, then do it. If you survive, you’ll have all the time in the world to be real people. In the arena, your only job is to look pretty and kill as many people as possible,” he looks out the window as you pass through district eleven, staring blankly at the concrete walls surrounding the city, “but from the looks of it, it won’t be very hard to play the part.”

His eyes fall to your and Warren’s joined hands. You scowl at him but don’t move, knowing that he’s right. Combat isn’t the only thing you need to be focusing on. Every person who has won the games has done so with the help of sponsors. To get sponsors, you’ll need a good story. 

“Can we have some time alone?” Warren spits, although you can see the fight slowly draining from him, “we have weeks to strategize.” 

Erik glances between you. His eyes soften and the tension in his shoulders releases. He doesn’t seem like someone who would vocalize anything but objective fact and strategy, but you remember the way your mentor and his partner got as far as they did before his partner died. Watching the games as a child, you were entranced by the love that the two obviously felt for one another. Looking at him now, you can’t help but wonder if you or Warren will be like him after the games

“You have the rest of the night,” he sighs, “that’s all I can give you. We meet back here tomorrow morning. Don’t sleep in. We have a lot to go over.” 

Warren doesn’t understand how this happened. Everything was fine. He was going to age out this year, and next year you would be safe. All of your friends would be safe, and you could live your lives in relative peace.

He wanted to marry you. He’d found a ring from one of the vendors in the market and bought it spontaneously, realizing the moment he held it in his palm that he wanted to see you wearing it for the rest of your lives. He carried it with him almost everywhere he went, as a reminder of the future he wanted with you. But right now it feels heavy in his pocket. 

He pulls you tighter against him, closing his eyes again in a fruitless attempt to sleep. He’s kept himself up all night, paranoia plaguing him as his eyes search the empty room for a nonexistent threat, as if he’s already in the arena. 

You shift in his arms, pressing back against his chest and sighing as you bury a hand in the soft feathers of his wing. He presses his head into the back of your neck, hand spreading across your stomach to press you as close as he can. He took this closeness for granted before the Reaping, but now these moments are limited. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to hold you close enough to make up for the time that you’re going to lose after the games. 

He can’t let you die. 

It’s a thought that jolts him. Of course, the plan was always to keep you alive, but he’s still coming to terms with what that means for him. He selfishly wants to keep himself alive too, to see his family and friends again. To see your face when he gives you the ring. To see your face every day for the rest of his life. He wants to live. God, he wants to live so badly.

You shift in his arms, turning to face him with bleary eyes. 

“Why’re you still awake?” you murmur, “you need to sleep.”

It’s an impossible thing. Sleep feels farther away the longer he’s awake. His fear grips him like a vice, taking hold of his throat and squeezing any remaining life out of him. He can’t speak. He can’t breath.

“Warren,” you whisper his name, pulling him out of the haze he’d fallen into, “baby, you need to breath. You’re having a panic attack.” 

Oh. That makes more sense than his immediate assumption, which was that he was actually dying via some unknown, merciful force.

Selfish, he reminds himself, stop being selfish. 

You attempt to move away from him to give him distance, but he stops you, pulling you close again. He sighs when he feels your heart beating against his and times his breaths with each thump against his chest. You relax against him, hand moving into his hair.

“Just breathe,” you whisper into his hair. His hands tremble against your back and he clenches them, hating himself for how weak he is. You’re going to the games too, you shouldn’t be having to anchor him. But despite this knowledge, he still clings to you, pressing his lips to your neck with a shaky sigh. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers, closing his eyes when you hold him tighter.

“Never.” 

Tears slide down his cheeks as the panic starts to fade into sorrow.

“I love you,” he looks up at you, taking your face carefully in his palms and kissing your jaw, “more than anything.”

He wipes away a tear that slides down your cheek, pressing another kiss against your temple.

“I love you too,” your voice sounds as weak as he feels, and he wishes more than anything that this could be a dream. That he’d wake up in his own bed, tucked away in the safety of your arms. You would hold each other for hours, free from the burden of the Hunger Games.

He falls asleep wrapped around you, keeping you tucked in the safety of his wings while he drifts away in your arms. 

It doesn’t take much searching for you to find Erik’s room secluded from the rest of the train. It’s far too early to be awake, but you couldn’t wait until morning to talk to him. You tap against the door, looking around tentatively to make sure no one woke up at the sound of your quiet footsteps. You knock again, a bit louder, and sigh when you hear an annoyed groan through the door. It takes a minute, but you wait patiently until you hear Erik’s footsteps coming closer. He slides it open, tired eyes landing on you.

“What?” he grunts, walking back towards his bed as a silent invitation for you to follow. You push the door shut behind you and shuffle towards him, sitting on the chair that he points to and waiting for him to look at you. 

“I needed to talk to you before tomorrow. I know you probably have a strategy in mind, but whatever it is, you need to change it.” 

Erik looks less than impressed, waiting patiently and expectantly for you to continue.

“He has to live,” you whisper, an admission both to him and yourself. The fight between wanting to find a way for you both to live and needing Warren to get back home is one you’ve been fighting since the moment he volunteered. But you know that two people surviving the games is impossible. This is your only option. 

“Warren lives. He has to. I don’t care what I have to do.” 

Erik’s expression doesn’t change, and you realize he was probably expecting this. His only question was probably whether it would be you or Warren showing up at his door. 

“That’s not up to me,” he tells you, “any strategy we come up with will end with one person coming out of that arena alive. If you end up getting to the end of this, it’s either going to be you or him. It’s your job to decide what happens after that.”

You don’t know what else you were expecting. You feel idiotic for even coming given the little that you’re going to leave with. You feel far from reassured, but at the very least, there’s a tentative plan starting to form. Or at least some semblance of motivation. 

“If you really want it to be him that makes it out, you’re going to have to fight until the end. That means the strategy stays the same,” he leans forward, studying you for a moment. “This isn’t an out for you, if that’s what you were hoping. Your training stays the same, as does his.” 

“What?” you narrow your eyes at him, “I don’t want an out. All I want is to protect him.” 

Erik meets your eyes, looking fully alert as he stares at you. You want to back down from the intensity of his gaze, but you stand your ground. 

“Then protect him,” Erik finally says, eyes holding a meaning that you can’t fully grasp, “no one else is going to do it for you.”

#wwdrabble #drabble #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington x you #warren worthington imagine #warren worthington imagines #angel x reader #angel x you #angel imagine #angel imagines #xmen x reader #xmen x you #xmen imagine #xmen imagines #hunger games #hunger games au #imagine

[danielfarrar]

Daniel Farrar is a man of many talents. He enjoys maintaining vehicles, watching World War 2 films, playing video games and learning about technology. He's also an avid inventor and likes tinkering with electronics and creating new things. One of Daniel Farrar's biggest accomplishments is building his own custom desktop PC.

#Daniel Farrar #Car Mechanic #Interested in Cars #warren worthington imagine #UK #Passion For Cars