#warren worthington iii imagines

[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.

[dinogoofymutated]

Omg I love your headcanons/fics!! I really need to ask if you'd be willing to write an addendum for the jealousy headcanons for Wolverine? Of course no pressure if you can't/don't feel like, just thought I'd try to ask! :) Hope you have a nice day/night, and keep up the good work! 💗💗💗

Jealousy Headcannons!- Multi/GN!Reader - Wolverine, Morph, Angel, Sabretooth. You got it man!! Had a version of this requested for Logan so many times lol. I went ahead and added more characters to round it off into a full multi character hcs. Logan doesn't explicitly punch anyone in this one, so sorry if anyone was looking forward to that! (Sorry though, his is pretty similar to cable's) I'm also testing the waters while writing for Morph. I know everyone is starving for fics with them, but I'm not really used to writing for they/them characters (despite the fact that I try to avoid pronouns for the reader, weird I know, but its mostly due to me using you/your.) forgive me if I slip up with their pronouns, and let me know if I do so I can fix it! TWs: Violence (not towards reader, but some pretty mean names are called tho) Men can be creeps/harassment. Unnecessary changing scene with Warren bc I love non-sexual intimacy like that. Flirting, Barfights again but this time it's a little bloody (sabertooth) Drinking mentioned.

Wolverine

Okay, so Logan here is a bit of a mixed bag when it comes to jealousy. I really feel like it depends on the situation? In general, he trusts you more than just about anyone. When someone flirts with you, he's generally just very grouchy and most of the time, quiet. He glares a lot, and if you meet his gaze he'll raise an eyebrow, basically asking if you need an out, and then he'd act accordingly.

Buuuttt. If he's in a bad mood or has had a tough day, he's more likely to resort to threats and intimidation to handle any romantic attention you might receive. He gets more physically protective and will usually have an arm slung around you at all times.

That's not to say he only gets jealous of romantic attention though. I feel like he also get jealous of anything and anyone taking up your time, really. he'd probably stay quiet until he just kinda snaps and drags you away from whatever has your attention for smooches and cuddles. Don't let him fool you by telling you he's not cuddly, he totally is.

"Back. Up. Bub." Logan's rumbling voice is venomous, a growl of warning as he bows up on the man in front of you. The two of you had been out on a mission together, which normally would have gone perfectly fine. Unfortunately, you'd ended up running into some old acquaintances of his. Both of you were bristiling at the contact, but you knew that coaxing Logan into a fight was just what he wanted. The man had been making moves on you the entire time- and although you were practically an expert in ignoring the flirtation from asshole guys, you were beginning to get more and more uncomfortable with it. It was when the man had started to make sexual comments about your body that Logan snapped.

"Who you callin' bub, pipsqueak?" The man smirks, looking down on Logan with arrogance. Anxiety had begun to worm it's way into your stomach.

"You better learn to watch your mouth." Logan growls. His fists flex as his claws unsheath, the adamantium practically itching to dig into the guy's skin. This was escalating fast, and you needed to stop it now. You both needed to complete the mission without any complications, extra fights included.

"Logan, Please, can we just go?" You say, grabbing his wrist and tugging before he can launch himself at the man. Logan's angry face remains intact, but you can see the way his shoulders slightly loosen. He glances at you, before backing off from the man with a snarl. You sigh in relief as Logan turns to follow you as you drag him away, just thankful you've avoided a problem at that point.

" 'bitch's got you on a hellava tight leash. Who knew the wolverine would be so whipped over some cheap whore." Logan stops abruptly at the words, sighing deeply as he looks at you, rage burning in his eyes. Whatever reserved attitude you had about this fight was basically gone, evaporating at the insults. You let out a long sigh, before you pull your hands away from him and shrug your shoulders. Logan grins at you wickedly.

So what if he came home with a few more bruises than normal? His knuckles would heal- but the ass whooping he gave out would damage that guy's ego forever.

Angel

Warren is the silently jealous type. No matter how bad he's being cooked with jealousy, he's really just going to keep an eye on you from afar. Growing up as a rich kid, I feel like his dad was very strict on manners and how not to make a public scene, which has kinda carried over into his adulthood.

If someone just won't give it a rest and keeps trying to pursue you, Warren will be not low-key about it. He'll come over and set his hand on your back, or sling his arm around your shoulder, or if he's feeling really cocky, Shake the person's hand and introduce himself as your boyfriend/husband. He'll only outright tell them to back off if they start to get out of hand and he knows you're getting really uncomfortable.

"I just don't like him." Warren says, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom. He's still in his suit from before, the red and bright white standing out starkly compared to the muted warm tones of your shared bedroom. You laugh at him as you begin to change.

"What? Why? I think Pietro is kinda funny." You ask, beginning to take off your shirt. Warren sighs in a petty way.

"Yeah, exactly." He mumbles under his breath, walking over to help you when your head gets stuck in the neckline like it always does. You give him a kiss on his cheek when you're free, not quite having heard him.

"Can't I dislike him just to dislike him? I don't need a reason." Warren speaks up this time, and you can't seem to hold back your amused smile as he digs his hole deeper. "-but, if I did, I'd say he's just too friendly with you. I don't like it." You can't help but laugh at that as you finish changing into more comfortable clothes. He turns around on autopilot, letting you unzip him from his suit- careful not to catch his blonde hair with the zipper.

"It's not like he's taking me away from you, Warren." You say, pressing a kisses to his exposed neck and back as you help him navigate his wings through. Warren huffs a little, his wings twitching as his voice goes soft.

"I never said that. I know he's not. I trust you enough to know so. I just..." He trails off, stepping out of his suit and left in his boxers. He lets you pull his shirt over him, stretching his wings in the confined space of the bathroom when its on correctly. You cock an eyebrow at him now that you're facing him, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't, simply looking away from you to avoid your knowing gaze. You let out an amused chuff before closing in on him.

"It's okay to be jealous, Warren, but I promise you, I'm not going anywhere." You say confidently, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He sighs again, but smiles as he looks at you with a soft and loving gaze. His arms wrap around your waist as he rests his forehead against your own, closing his eyes as the two of you begin to sway a little.

"Yeah, I know."

Morph

I really think that Morph is more of an insecure jealous type, but they're more likely to hide it behind humor. If you're being flirted and don't seem to be overly uncomfortable, they're probably going to fade into the background. They know that you love them, and they trust you, but they're so used to being second best for everyone they know that they just feel like they're bothering you. Later on, when whoever is flirting with you leaves, Morph will shift into them and start joking about it. Don't let the humor fool you, they're hurting right now. Just give Morph some extra love and kisses and reassurance and they'll feel better eventually.

Now, if it's clear that someone is bothering you, Morph won't be afraid to roast the everloving shit out of them. They take the moment to really embarrass the person, and if you're in a bar he'd totattally shift into the dude just to offer a drink to everyone and then dip, sticking the asshole with the bill.

You really didn't like clubs. They were busy and loud, but you had a friend celebrating her birthday in one, so who were you to turn down the invite? You certainly couldn't go without your favorite shapeshifter by your side either. The only problem was that Morph wasn't the only one who had eyes for you that night. Morph hadn't said anything in the moment, but you knew stuff like this bothered them. Even while walking home from the club, they still seemed to be trying to brush it off.

"Hey, Good-lookin. You interested?" Morph says, having shifted into the guy who had been flirting with you earlier. They're leaning against the side of the payphone like a goofball, having waited there as you called the school to let the others know you were finally on the way home, tipsy, but still hoping the fresh air would sober the both of you up. You roll your eyes as you giggle at them, shoving their shoulder and sending them stubiling.

"In that guy? No way!" You laugh, walking past Morph before they quickly catch up to you.

"You gotta admit, he was pretty handsome for a POS." They joke, puckering their lips and making kissy faces at you.

"Mmhm. suuureeee." You hum, pushing their face away from yours as they laugh.

"Come on, you saying' that tall dark and handsome isn't your type?" Morph shifts from the man at the club, and into the blonde, blue-eyed Warren worthington, wings hidden underneath the supposed coat. "-Or maybe you'd prefer blondes. I hear Warren's quite at catch." You huff at them, and shake your head again. Something in their tone of voice just seems to set off alarms in your brain, and they doesn't seem to be acting as genuine with you anymore, a vulnerability creeping into their voice no matter how hard they were trying to hide it. This goes on for a rather solid minute, Morph shifting into different people you know and asking who you prefer with a laugh and a fake smile. You shake your head every time, but it's starting to become more than just a bit. You begin to lose your patience, your own hurt seeping through the cracks.

"You're into the gruff, muscly, Logan, right? Hafta' be if you're still-"

"Kevin." You finally cut them off with a stern tone of voice, grabbing their wrist as you abruptly stop walking. They flinch at the name, eyes blowing wide with concern as they shift from logan, then to the dark haired version of themselves- before then settling on the form you know so well.

"... Not the government name." They mumble, more caught up in the strict way you said their name rather than the words themselves. You grab them by the collar of their leather jacket, pulling them close to you as you look into their eyes.

"How many times to I have to tell you I love you for you to believe me?" You whisper after a moment, voice coming out a little broken. Morph's seems to panic a little, making a concerned face as their hands catch hold of your wrists gently.

"I- no, that's not what I..." Morph says, trying their best to fix the situation. They can't seem to come up with the right words, their eyes avoiding your gaze as their mouth opens and closes with no luck. You cup the side of their face, bringing them back to face you.

"I. Love. You." You say purposefully. "Not some guy at the club- you, Morph. Any part of you that you want to give me, Any form you want to take. As long as it's you, I don't care." Morph relaxes at your words, sighing as you bring them closer to you, resting their forehead against your own.

"Yeah?" They ask, eyes fluttering closed.

"Yeah." You reply, finally leaning in to kiss them lovingly. They return the kiss softly, only separating from you when you begin to drag them down the sidewalk with you once again, hand in hand.

Sabertooth

He does not handle jealousy well at all. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him to put someone in the hospital. It doesn't matter if they're just flirting, or if they're actually bothering you, he's going to start some shit. The man loves to start fights, and he couldn't care less what the reason is for. I will say though, he's gonna be a lot less smiley if the person insults either of you. He may be a shitstarter, but he doesn't take disrespect, especially not disrespect towards his S/O.

He's never mad at you for it. If anything, he's glad you gave him the chance to take some anger out. He'll encourage you to wear sexy and revealing outfits because he wants to see you wear them, and also because he's gonna beat the shit out of the first guy (and every guy, honestly) to look at you the wrong way. ESPECIALLY if you have boobs. Those are his boobs. He wants them to be popping out of your clothes 24/7 but no one else is allowed to look at them. Did he just see someone glance at you? Say goodbye to your teeth, motherfucker. (and your balls too.)

Victor loved shitty dive bars, as gross and unsanitary they may be. He liked to bar hop a few of them every other night, and although you weren't necessarily the dive bar type, you did enjoy spending time with him. Normally you'd just wear casual clothes, but today you had wanted to dress up a little bit. Nothing too fancy, but your shirt was a little low cut compared to what you normally wear. Victor had been loving it, especially since he got to have you as his eye-candy. That was what you were going for, and you succeeded! The only problem was that he wasn't the only one appreciating the view.

You were sitting at the bar, watching Victor win another round of pool while sipping on your drink. A man had sat next to you earlier, but you didn't think anything of it at first. It was a busy saturday night, and there weren't that many seats open at the bar. At most, you had a uneasy tingling on the back of your neck, feeling that someone was watching you.

"What's a fine thing like you doing in this shitty place?" The man suddenly asks. You send him a questioning glance, almost baffled at the flirting. He must be new here, because every other regular of this place knew for a fact who you always come here with, and no other man is stupid enough to try their luck with you while he's lingering around.

"Who, me? Enjoying some peace and quiet, obviously." You say in a sarcastic tone. The man chuckles next to you.

"Aw, not interested, sweetheart? I swear I'll make it worth your while." You make an obviously disgusted face at that, beginning to wonder who this guy thinks he is. The tingling feeling you feel hasn't let up, in fact, it's only gotten stronger. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing up, and you can't help but feel like something is seriously wrong here. You brushed it off on the alcohol, but Victor had always been a bit more perceptive than you. He barely glanced over in your direction before he was storming over. For a split second you think he's mad at you, until he violently grabs the man next to you by the collar, his claws scraping across his collarbones and causing him to yelp as he shallow cuts begin to bleed.

"Did I just see you staring?" Victor huffs, glaring so hard you swear the man shrinks underneath his gaze. Every bit of confidence he had a minute ago had vanished completely.

"W-what? I... Uh..." The man stutters, unable to say a complete sentence through his fear. Victor turns to you slightly, his grip not letting up for a second.

"He say something to you, Doll?" He asks, and you wonder if you should tell him the truth. You almost felt bad for the guy in his grip, knowing that he was probably just stupid and new to this bar. You shake your head in response, even though the stranger had been giving you off vibes since the moment he sat down. Victor grins at you, a loving excitement in his eyes as his grip only gets tighter.

"Aww, you don't have to lie, sweet thing." Victor chuckles, and you grimace when you realise that he totally saw that lie coming a mile away. Vic turns back to the man, his smile dropping instantly as his other hand slips the guy's phone out and slams it on the counter of the bar. "Open your camera." Vic snarls. The man starts to panic now, squirming to get out of his grip.

"N-no! Let go of me Man!" The man stutters. Vic only begins to grin again.

"Nuh-uh. I want you to show my baby the photos you've been taking all night." Photos? You didn't know anything about any photos. Your brows furrow as the man begins to whine and panic, squirming to no avail. Vic smirks at you as he send you a nodd, and you grab the phone and open the creep's gallery. There has to have been over thirty photos of you from just tonight, sitting at the bar, ordering your first drink, even one from when you had gotten up to use the restroom.

"Oh, gross!" You say, recoiling from the phone and wiping your hands on your shirt, not wanting to know where this guys hands had been all night. The man in Victor's grip has gone completely pale, freezing at the sight of Vic's terrifying smile. He reaches over towards the phone with his free hand, picking up the device before crushing it with his bare hand.

"Why don't you head outside, honeybee. I'll take out the trash while you're gone."

[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.

[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.”

[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.

[ffverr]

Put it down warren and no one gets hurt!!!

[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?”

[the-dendrophile-bookdragon]

Warren Worthington ||| Masterlist

😢…Angst

❤…Fluff

🌶 … Steamy (no smut)

🔥 … smut

⚠… extra warning

Rainy Day ❤

Hold my Girl 😢❤️⚠️

All of me ❤️

Christmas with You ❤️😥

[practically-an-x-man]

I need someone with video editing skills to take the metal-wing transformation scene from X-Men: Apocalypse and change the music from the Four Horsemen to Archangel by Amaranthe

[the-daydream-queen]

X-Men Masterlist

*My work is not to be taken or used anywhere else without my permission. Reblogs, likes and comments are always welcome and much appreciated. Thank you to all who read my work, and recommend it. It means a lot!

Warren Worthington (Angel)

Headcanons:

Napping With Warren

Dating Warren Would Include

Soft Fluff

Domestic Fluff

Drabbles

Drabble 1

Drabble 2

Peter Maximoff (Quicksilver)

Headcanons:

Peter Driving Would Include

Favorite Things About One Another

Drabbles:

It’s Too Cold, Come Back

I Know I’ve Already Kissed You

Fluffy Drabble

Distractions

Comforts

Bad Dreams

[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.

[michelle-is-writing]

The Dance, Warren Worthington iii

Word Count: 1.4k~

Warren never danced, and surely, he never went to any dances in general. Other than the fact that he had wings on his back that he wanted to hide, he never felt comfortable around other people. People in the schools he went to when he was younger were always so rude to him, which ultimately lead him to being lonely and without friends.

This all changed when he arrived at X-Mansion, or to be more professional, Xavier's school for the gifted youngsters. There, Warren met some of the greatest friends he could ever ask for, and at the same time, he met the woman he would picture forever with. Because of her, Warren grew confident and soon began to see his wings as something beautiful instead of fearsome. For once, he couldn't be happier.

This evening was the night of the dance that Xavier and Mystique had planned for all of the students to enjoy and have fun for a change. Between Warren and Scott, they believed they were the luckiest guys out of the entire world to have the women they loved. Scott had Jean, and Warren had (Y/n) - both couples being strong and wonderful in their own ways.

In preparation for the dance, Jean and (Y/n) had taken the liberty to go shopping for themselves and the boys. They both knew that Warren and Scott wouldn't know the first thing to look for when trying to find a tux, but thankfully, the women they loved did.

Jean had picked out a dark red dress for herself that was sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline and reached the floor with a silky pattern. The suit she bought for Scott had a dress shirt and tie to match the shade of her dress, and ironically, his glasses. Meanwhile, (Y/n) picked out a long-sleeved sparkly, navy blue dress for herself that had a v-neck and conformed to the shape of her body, accentuating her every curve until it flowed to the floor with a split in the side. Similar to Scott's tux, Warren's was black as well except for the white vest and navy blue dress shirt to match (Y/n)'s dress.

The dance was scheduled for seven, and so far, it was six-forty-five. Jean had long finished with her appearance and was currently laying in her boyfriend's arms, smiling as he twirled her straight hair between his fingers. Meanwhile, (Y/n) had yet to come out of her's and Warren's shared bedroom, leaving Warren to sit and wait in the hall with Scott and Jean.

As he sat on the maroon couch, he began thinking about everything going on. Tonight was the night he would be attending a dance for the first time in his life, and he would have his gorgeous girl with him. Just thinking about her made him smile, imagining what she might look like when she came out of their bedroom.

Both (Y/n) and Jean made the two boys get ready in Jean and Scott's bedroom so they would be surprised to see what the girls looked like after getting ready. It reminded Warren of two people getting married, and yet, he didn't grow scared or worried about the idea. Instead, he found himself pleased at the thought of marrying (Y/n) one day. He loved her more than he had ever loved anyone else in his life, and the love was returned ten-fold.

When the clock reached, 6:55, Warren grew a bit worried. "Jean," He stated his friend's name, looking over as she and Scott looked at his bedroom door as well. "Could you go maybe check on (Y/n) to see if anything is wrong?"

With a nod, Jean got up from her boyfriend's lap, Scott protesting the entire time, and went to head toward the room, only to stop herself as the door handle began to move. Now smiling, Jean looked over at Warren and spoke up. "I think everything is alright," She told him, knowing that he was going to be speechless upon seeing his girlfriend with her hair and makeup done to the nines.

Sure enough, Warren found himself choking on his words as the love of his life exited their room, her dress showing off every part of her body that was his favorite. Meanwhile, her hair was curled and pinned into an updo with smaller curls gracing her face. She had done her makeup to match the dress as well, dark blue eyeshadow in contrast to her perfect (e/c) irises while her smiling lips were painted with a sparkly peachy lipgloss. She was perfect.

Meanwhile, as Warren looked at her, (Y/n) looked at him with almost the same awestruck stare. She loved the way his hair was naturally curly, and she loved how it looked when it was cut to frame his face. (Y/n) also loved the way the suit looked on him, tight enough to show his muscles and firm body he prided himself on. However, what (Y/n) loved most was his wings that folded against his back, cleaned from any dirt in the feathers and soft from the constant care she showed them without expecting something back. He was perfect too.

"You look absolutely stunning," Warren complimented (Y/n), walking forward to wrap his arms around her. Blushing, she embraced him back and giggled as he ran a slightly rough hand against the material of her dress. "A million dollars couldn't even compare to you."

With that, (Y/n) laughed again and pulled back to face him. She loved the way he looked when he was happy, and right now, he was practically bursting with joy. She tried to do anything she could to keep him smiling, and she was always successful in all of her efforts without fail. What she didn't realize was that all she'd have to do is be around Warren and he'd be happy.

"You look amazing too," (Y/n) told Warren, making him blush like her mere seconds ago. Her words always did this to him. "Ravishing, if I must say."

"We're still here," Scott interrupted the sweet moment between the two, smirking. Jean was quick to hit his shoulder with a smile before dragging him off to the area of the mansion where the dance would be held. This left Warren and (Y/n) to themselves as they resumed staring at each other, gently laughing as a few seconds passed.

"Although, I do need you to do one thing for me," (Y/n) admitted, turning around in Warren's hold. His eyes quickly caught the half-way-up zipper and smiled to himself, knowing what she was wanting. "Could you fix it for me?"

Without another second passing, Warren took the zipper into his hands and gently pushed it up until it reached the top, watching as the dark blue material molded against her back perfectly. He couldn't help but take the chance to wrap his arms around (Y/n) from behind when he finished, her cheeks blushing even darker as her back rested against Warren's firm chest. Her head gently rolled to the side as she felt him lean over and delicately kiss her cheek, his soft lips lingering there as he spoke up.

"I don't know how you'll react to this, but I have to get it off my chest," Warren began, watching as she tilted her head up at him with a raised eyebrow. She looked adorable when she was curious, and Warren couldn't help but swoon at this.

Leaning close to her ear, he gently rested his chin on her shoulder while nuzzling his nose into her neck, careful not to mess with her intricate curls while doing so. (Y/n) anticipated his next words with a mix of excitement and worry, hoping the confession about to leave his lips would be a good one.

"You, my love," Warren emphasized, lightly swaying her in his hold. "You are going to be the woman I marry."

In response to his words, (Y/n) felt her heart clench with love, her unbreakable smile growing as tears laced her now closed eyes. Warren noticed this and continued smiling, holding her to him with his wings mindlessly moving to surround the two in their own world. (Y/n) truly loved this man with all her heart, and once again, the love was returned tenfold.

[dinogoofymutated]

I’m CRAVING for Warren/Angel content and I’d love to see how would smeggs like with him😏

Sometimes I like to imagine him instinctively letting his wings spread as he yk… ✨cums✨ 😋

NSFW! Angel/AFAB!Reader I was in the mood to write a golden retriever of a man so Warren it is! After seeing that Cypher panel I'm reverting back into my thing for blondes and warren is like, the #1 blonde in my book, so obviously I had to write for him lol. Sorry that's it's a lil rushed. I'm really sleepy. TWS: NSFW under the cut! Cream pie, mentions of public sex, Warren please marry me.

Originally I really wanted to say that Warren is the definition of a classy lover, but then I remembered the whole "sky sex" thing and IMMEDIATELY changed my mind. Like sure, maybe he's matured and changed over the years, but to be honest? I think he's just waiting for the opportunity to let his freaky side out.

In the bedroom Warren is a switch, maybe a bit sub-leaning, but a switch nonetheless! He can be so sweet and loving at times, and then sometimes he's kinda bratty and very much a tease. He loves you so much, and he wants to see it for himself. He loves it when you chase after his lips and hands, pleading with him to touch you and kiss you in the way you've become so accustomed to. But then again, he's also a big fan of when you have him sprawled out on his back, wings stretching wide as you ride him for all he's worth.

Overall, He's just really smitten with you.

When it comes to his favorite places to do the deed, he's no stranger to semi-public sex. The sky is the limit with him (is it really?) but he'll admit, he does enjoy having you all to himself. He likes the intimacy of having you in private, and is quite the romantic. We're talking rose petals and everything.

And man, is he a sight when he cums.

"Fuck- so good. You feel so good. Always do." Warren gasps above you. All you can do is whimper in response, arms wrapped around his lower back as he pushes into you again and again, a deep and steady pace.

His moans are angelic, whines and wimpers going straight to your pussy as slick pools in abundance with every thrust of his hips. You gasp his name in a way you know drives him crazy, and he can't help but catch you in a kiss, hips snapping against your own a tad bit more rough this time. His wings twitch and strain, the limbs not quite knowing how to function with the overwhelming pleasure you give to him.

There's a thin trail of spit between your lips when he pulls back with an even louder moan, hips stuttering as he drives into your core. His cock hits you just right, pressing into that pleasurable, spongy spot inside you. Warren curses as your moans get a little louder, both of you desperately trying to reach that white-hot pleasure.

You know he's close when he lifts away from you just enough to snake his hand down towards your clit, touching you in a way he knows drives you crazy. His thrusts become frantic as he reaches his end, fluffy wings stretching out to their full span above him as spots greet your vision. He looks ethereal above you, blond hair sticking to his forehead as his face scrunches up- chasing after that high that so, so close for the both of you.

You cum just shortly before he does, legs wrapping around his waist so tightly he struggles to move, grinding into you as each rope of cum warms your insides. His groans turn into high-pitched whines, Warren biting his lip in an attempt to keep himself quiet. He tucks his head into the crook of you neck, grinding deeply inside of you twice more before he tries to relax, slowly slumping against you as he begins to relax, panting for breath.

"You're so pretty, Warren." You say after he has a moment to come down from his high. He smiles at you without opening his eyes as you run a hand through his pretty hair, scooting upward to nuzzle into you, speaking into your ear.

"I'm sure I'd look prettier in between your thighs, love."

[justiceformeplease]

Hey sooo um yes i know i have not posted for about a few months maybe since last year?? I don't even know how long it has been but i know it's been a while and I'm sorry for not posting but i have lately been kind of stressed with school and life problems and i know that isn't a good enough excuse but i really am trying my best and stuff.

Since I'm finishing exams tommorow people can send requests that i could do over the summer and stuff

People i write for :

Ben hardy

Joe mazzello

John deacon

Roger Taylor

Kirk Hammett

Eddie Munson

Tasm Peter Parker

Warren Worthington

Serj tankian

Daron malakain

Btw i usually write x FEM!readers but i can also do male as well, i will usually do fem if there is no indication that you want male!reader

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Fem!Reader (Part.1)

You leave them speechless with your bikini (Part.1)

You arrives at a private X-Men beach in a stunning bikini, instantly capturing the attention of your crush who struggle to maintain their composure

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Erik Lehnsherr, Warren Worthington III, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Jean Grey & Ororo Munroe

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

The sun beats down on the secluded stretch of beach where the X-Men have gathered for a rare day off, the sounds of the waves lapping gently at the shore. Logan stands near the bonfire pit, his sharp eyes watching as his teammates laugh and splash around in the water, but his mind isn’t really on their fun. He’s more focused on the horizon, trying to find peace in the familiar scent of the ocean, but that all changes when you step onto the sand.

He glances over, and there you are, walking across the beach in a bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. His breath hitches slightly at the sight of you, all sun-kissed skin and effortless beauty. The way the sunlight plays off your body makes his throat tighten, and suddenly, Logan has to clench his fists to keep his composure. His sharp senses can pick up on everything about you—your scent, the warmth radiating from your skin, and the way your soft laughter reaches his ears.

You’re walking toward the water, completely oblivious to the effect you’re having on him, and for a moment, Logan’s mind goes blank, his usual cool exterior crumbling as he watches you. He can feel the animal inside him stir, the raw attraction that he tries so hard to keep in check roaring to life. His heart races, and it’s taking everything in him not to let his eyes linger too long, not to show just how much he’s affected.

"Whoa, Logan, you might wanna close your mouth before you start droolin'," comes a teasing voice from beside him. Logan turns to see Bobby grinning like an idiot, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Logan growls low in his throat, but it’s more embarrassed than angry. "Shut it, Drake," he mutters, trying to ignore the way his face feels like it’s on fire. He can feel the heat rising in his body, a mix of frustration and longing swirling inside him, but he can’t risk losing control. Not here, not now.

Bobby snickers and pats Logan on the shoulder. "She’s somethin’ else, huh? Can’t say I blame you. If I had your senses, I’d probably be in trouble too."

Logan clenches his jaw, his eyes flicking back to you for a brief moment before he forces himself to look away. "Ain’t your business, Drake," he grumbles, though his tone lacks its usual bite.

But Bobby’s words only make it harder for Logan to push the thoughts away. Every time he catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye, his chest tightens. He wants to go over to you, wants to say something, but the tension between you two has been building for weeks, and he’s not sure how much longer he can hold back.

As the day wears on and the sun begins to set, Logan finds himself standing closer to you, the unspoken connection between you two almost tangible. You glance over at him, a soft smile on your lips, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world fades away. The temptation is too strong, the desire too overwhelming. He’s not sure how much longer he can pretend he’s not completely drawn to you.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

The day is hot and humid, the perfect weather for a beach trip. The X-Men had chosen a private stretch of sand, far away from prying eyes, and everyone was in high spirits. Remy, as usual, was the center of attention, making jokes and tossing cards into the air with casual grace. But when you step onto the sand in your bikini, his usual charm falters.

His red-on-black eyes widen slightly as he takes in the sight of you, walking toward the water with the sun hitting your skin just right. You look effortlessly stunning, the curves of your body accentuated by the swimsuit, and Remy can’t help but stare for a moment too long. He’s never been the kind of guy to be at a loss for words, but right now, he feels like someone just knocked the wind out of him.

"Mon dieu," he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he tries to regain his composure. But it’s no use—his heartbeat quickens, and his usual confidence wavers.

"Remy, you okay there?" Rogue’s voice breaks through his daze, and when he turns to look at her, she’s smirking, clearly enjoying the way he’s struggling to keep his cool. "Didn’t think I’d ever see you look so flustered."

Remy shoots her a playful glare, but there’s no hiding the flush creeping up his neck. "Ain’t flustered, cher," he says, but his voice lacks its usual smoothness.

Rogue chuckles, folding her arms across her chest. "Sure, sugar. Whatever you say."

Remy turns his attention back to you, watching as you laugh with some of the other X-Men, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him. His chest tightens, and for the first time in a long time, Remy feels nervous. He’s always been confident, always known exactly what to say to charm someone, but with you, it’s different. There’s something real between you two, something that’s been simmering just below the surface for a while now, and it’s starting to drive him crazy.

The way your hips sway as you walk, the way your hair catches the sunlight—it’s all too much. He swallows hard, feeling the urge to go to you, to say something, to finally make a move. But he hesitates, unsure if now is the right time. The tension between you two is thick, and he’s not sure if pushing things further right now would be a good idea.

But then, you glance over at him, your eyes locking with his for just a second, and that’s all it takes. His heart skips a beat, and without thinking, he starts walking toward you, his usual swagger returning as he closes the distance between you two.

"Chère, y’ lookin’ like trouble today," he says, his voice low and smooth, though there’s a hint of nervous energy beneath the surface. He flashes you one of his trademark smiles, but this time, it’s a little more genuine, a little less playful.

You smile back, tilting your head slightly as you look up at him. "You sayin’ I’m too much for you to handle, Remy?"

He chuckles, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face. "Ain’t no such thing as too much when it comes to you, mon amour."

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

The beach day was meant to be relaxing, a break from the chaos that usually surrounded the X-Men. Kurt had been enjoying himself, teleporting from spot to spot around the beach, sometimes splashing in the water with his teammates and other times just relaxing in the shade. But all of that changes the moment you step onto the sand in your bikini.

Kurt’s yellow eyes go wide, his tail twitching nervously as he watches you walk by, the sun making your skin glow in a way that makes his heart race. You look stunning, the curves of your body making it hard for him to focus on anything else. His usual calm demeanor falters, and he suddenly feels a little self-conscious. He’s always been drawn to you, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly beautiful, is almost too much for him.

He quickly teleports to the edge of the beach, trying to collect himself. His body is burning with a mix of desire and embarrassment, and he’s not sure how to handle it. Kurt has always been shy when it comes to you, his feelings never fully spoken aloud, but the tension between you has been building for a long time.

"Having a hard time there, Kurt?" Kitty’s voice comes from beside him, and he jumps slightly, his tail curling in surprise.

"Nein, nein," he stammers, though his cheeks are darkened with a deep blush. "I-I’m fine, really."

Kitty raises an eyebrow, a teasing smile on her face. "Uh-huh. Sure. It’s not like you’re staring or anything."

Kurt groans softly, running a hand through his hair. "I wasn’t… staring," he mutters, though he knows that’s not entirely true. He had been staring—he couldn’t help it. You were just so… beautiful. And the feelings he’d been trying to keep under control were getting harder to ignore.

Kitty pats him on the back. "Good luck, Kurt. Looks like you might need it," she says before walking away, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Kurt takes a deep breath, his tail flicking nervously as he watches you from a distance. He wants to go to you, to say something, but he’s not sure how. The attraction between you two is undeniable, and he knows he can’t keep hiding how he feels forever.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The beach was calm, a private retreat for the X-Men to take a rare day off from their usual chaotic lives. Scott had found a spot under the shade of a large umbrella, sunglasses in place, enjoying the peaceful sound of the waves. He liked the quiet moments, where he could allow himself to relax. You, on the other hand, had been excited from the moment the trip was planned, eager to embrace the sun and sea.

Scott wasn’t prepared for what happened next. When you stepped out from behind one of the large rocks, wearing a bikini that hugged your curves in all the right places, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. He tried to maintain his usual calm, controlled demeanor, but it was difficult. His jaw tightened as he watched you move, the sunlight highlighting your figure as you walked toward the water. You hadn’t noticed his reaction yet, your carefree laughter blending with the sound of the ocean.

He adjusted his sunglasses, glad they were hiding the way his gaze followed you. A part of him wanted to stand up, walk over, and say something clever, but he could feel the heat rising in his body, his usual control slipping. Scott’s hands clenched into fists, trying to focus on anything else, but it was no use.

"Havin’ a little trouble, Summers?" Logan’s gruff voice came from beside him, and Scott immediately stiffened, his head turning sharply to the side.

Logan was smirking, arms crossed, clearly enjoying Scott’s discomfort. "Didn’t think you’d be the type to get rattled over a swimsuit."

Scott let out a slow breath, his jaw clenched. "I’m not rattled," he replied, trying to sound composed, though his voice was a little too tight. He glanced back at you, who was now wading into the water, your body shimmering under the sunlight.

"Right," Logan said, his smirk widening. "Just… y’know, if you’re havin’ trouble keepin’ your cool, maybe it’s time you make a move before someone else does."

Scott didn’t respond, but Logan’s words stuck with him. The tension between you two had been building for months, and Scott knew it. He’d kept his distance, not wanting to complicate things, but seeing you now, so carefree and beautiful, was making it harder and harder to stay composed. He couldn’t help but feel protective, the thought of anyone else stepping in to win your affections gnawing at him.

As you swam further out into the water, Scott stood up from his spot under the umbrella, his heart racing as he made a decision. It was time to stop holding back.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

The beach wasn’t Erik’s usual scene. He preferred the cold steel of his lair or the sharp angles of his machines, but at the insistence of Charles and the others, he had agreed to join this rare moment of relaxation. He stood off to the side, watching the waves crash against the shore with a distant expression, his mind far from the present.

That is, until you emerged from one of the beach cabanas, dressed in a bikini that immediately drew his attention. Erik’s breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk across the sand, your beauty impossible to ignore. The way you carried yourself, the way the sunlight seemed to embrace you—it was enough to stir something deep within him, something primal.

You weren’t aware of his reaction, of the way his gaze followed you with an intensity he rarely allowed himself to feel. Erik prided himself on his control, on his ability to maintain a façade of indifference, but this… you… were making that increasingly difficult. His hand clenched at his side as he fought to maintain his composure, the magnetic energy around him humming softly in response to his heightened emotions.

"Quite the sight, isn’t she?" Charles’ voice broke through Erik’s thoughts, the familiar, calm tone both irritating and grounding at the same time.

Erik didn’t bother turning to look at his old friend, his eyes still locked on you as you dipped your toes into the water. "She always is," he replied, his voice lower than usual, filled with a tension that Charles undoubtedly noticed.

Charles chuckled softly, sensing the depth of Erik’s feelings. "You know, it wouldn’t hurt to let her know what she means to you."

Erik’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t a man prone to sentimentality, and yet, when it came to you, his defenses always seemed to waver. There had been an undeniable connection between you two for a long time, a mutual understanding of the world’s cruelty and beauty. But Erik had always hesitated to take that step, knowing the dangers that came with loving someone as fiercely as he wanted to love you.

"Sentiment is a weakness, Charles," Erik muttered, though even he didn’t fully believe it this time.

Charles shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Or perhaps, it’s the greatest strength of all."

As you turned and smiled in Erik’s direction, his heart skipped a beat. Maybe Charles was right. Maybe it was time to stop pretending that he didn’t feel anything. He wouldn’t allow the world to take this from him���not this time.

Warren Worthington III (Angel)

The sun was high in the sky, casting golden rays across the secluded beach where Warren had flown the X-Men for a much-needed break. With his wings stretched wide, Warren lounged on the soft sand, the sound of the waves providing a perfect backdrop to the otherwise peaceful day. He was the picture of relaxation, at least on the surface.

That all changed the moment you walked out of the changing cabana in your bikini.

His heart nearly stopped in his chest as he saw you, your skin glowing under the sunlight, your every movement graceful and captivating. Warren had always found you beautiful, but something about seeing you like this, so free and confident, stirred something deep within him. He tried to play it cool, lounging back as though he hadn’t just been struck dumb by the sight of you, but it was no use. His wings twitched, betraying his nervousness, and he felt his pulse quicken as you strolled toward the water.

Bobby, who had been building a sandcastle nearby, looked up at Warren with a wide grin. "Dude, you’re staring."

Warren blinked, snapping his gaze away from you as a flush crept up his neck. "I’m not staring," he said, though his voice didn’t quite carry the usual confidence.

Bobby snickered, leaning back on his hands. "Yeah, sure. Your wings are practically shaking, man."

Warren shot him a look, folding his wings a little tighter against his back in an attempt to regain control. "Mind your own business, Bobby," he muttered, though his eyes flicked back to you as you splashed playfully in the water, your laughter carrying on the breeze.

The truth was, Warren was having a hard time keeping his composure. The tension between you two had always been there, an unspoken attraction that neither of you had fully addressed, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly stunning, was making it impossible for him to ignore. His usual smooth charm faltered, and for the first time in a long while, Warren felt… vulnerable.

He wanted to go to you, to say something clever and sweep you off your feet the way he always imagined, but instead, he stayed rooted in place, unsure of how to approach the situation. His wings twitched again, and Bobby’s teasing laughter only made it worse.

"Come on, man," Bobby said, still grinning. "You’ve got wings. Just fly over there and make a move already."

Warren rolled his eyes but couldn’t deny the urge growing inside him. He wasn’t used to feeling this uncertain, but for you… it might be worth the risk. Standing up, he brushed the sand off his shorts, his wings unfolding as he glanced in your direction again. Maybe today was the day he’d finally stop hiding how he felt.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

The beach was a blur of activity, mostly thanks to Pietro zipping around the shore, never able to sit still for more than a moment. You were used to his constant energy by now, but today, his focus seemed a little... off. It wasn’t until you stepped out of the changing room, wearing your new bikini, that you realized why.

Pietro froze mid-sprint, which was a rare occurrence for him. His eyes widened as they took you in, the gentle breeze tugging at your hair, the sunlight casting a warm glow on your skin. You smiled at him, completely unaware of the way his heart was practically racing even faster than usual. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool, but his usual cocky smirk faltered, replaced by a look of genuine surprise and awe.

"Wow," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "That’s... I mean... you look—"

Before he could finish, a sharp whistle came from nearby. You didn’t notice, but Pietro did. Logan, leaning against one of the palm trees, raised an eyebrow at the speedster. "You gonna stand there gawking all day or actually do something about it, kid?"

Pietro shot Logan a glare, his usual confidence slowly seeping back into place. "Mind your business, old man," he grumbled, though he could feel the tips of his ears burning. Logan chuckled, clearly enjoying the younger mutant's discomfort.

Pietro’s gaze returned to you as you walked toward the shoreline, blissfully unaware of the exchange. He could feel his pulse quicken as he watched you, his usual bravado faltering just a bit. He knew he should make a move, say something, anything to let you know how he felt, but for the first time in a long time, he found himself at a loss for words.

With a deep breath, he decided to make his move—faster than you could blink, he was at your side, the usual teasing grin back on his face. "You know," he said, his voice low enough for only you to hear, "you’re making it really hard for me to concentrate on anything else right now."

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

Wanda Maximoff had always been intense, her emotions simmering just beneath the surface, controlled but always present. You knew that better than anyone, and today, as you stepped out onto the beach, you could feel that intensity directed at you in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

The beach was quiet, only a few of the X-Men scattered across the sand, but the moment Wanda saw you in that bikini, it was like the world fell away. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting slightly as she watched you walk toward the shore. You could feel her gaze on you, and it wasn’t just casual. It was hungry, a heat that made your skin prickle with awareness.

You waded into the water, letting the cool waves wash over your ankles, and when you turned back to look at her, you caught the moment she tore her eyes away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Wanda wasn’t one to lose control easily, but around you, it seemed she couldn’t help it.

"You’re staring," Pietro’s voice cut through the quiet, and you saw him lounging nearby, his usual smirk plastered on his face. "Not very subtle, sis."

Wanda shot him a glare that could have melted metal, but it didn’t stop him from chuckling. "Shut up, Pietro," she hissed, but the damage was done. Her composure was shaken, and now, she knew you had noticed.

Wanda stood up, brushing sand from her legs as she made her way toward you, her steps purposeful, but you could see the slight hesitation in her eyes. She was powerful, confident, but when it came to you, she seemed almost unsure, as if she wasn’t entirely certain how to handle the way she felt.

"You okay?" you asked, a small smile playing on your lips as she stopped beside you, her eyes locking onto yours.

"Fine," she replied quickly, too quickly, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Wanda..." You took a step closer, your voice soft. "You don’t have to hide how you feel."

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, the tension between you was thick, almost suffocating. Wanda's fingers brushed against yours, and the simple touch sent a spark through you both. She didn’t say anything, but the look in her eyes said everything. You could see the desire, the need she had been trying to keep under control, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before she gave in.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

The beach was serene, with the waves gently lapping at the shore and the soft hum of the wind weaving through the trees. Jean was sitting on a towel, a relaxed smile on her face as she watched the others enjoy the rare day off. She hadn’t expected you to take her breath away, but that’s exactly what happened when you strolled down the sand in your bikini.

Jean’s eyes followed your every movement, her usually composed demeanor shaken for just a moment. You were stunning, the sun reflecting off your skin in a way that made her heart skip a beat. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, though she tried to keep her expression neutral.

As you waded into the shallow water, Jean’s thoughts raced, and she struggled to maintain her usual control. The tension between the two of you had been growing for some time now, an unspoken attraction that was always there, simmering beneath the surface. She had always tried to keep her feelings in check, worried about the complications that might arise if she let them show. But now, seeing you like this, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the pull.

"She’s beautiful, isn’t she?" Scott’s voice broke through Jean’s thoughts, and she blinked, turning to look at him. He wasn’t teasing, just observant, and Jean felt a pang of jealousy twist in her chest. She quickly pushed it down, forcing a smile.

"She is," Jean replied softly, her eyes drifting back to you as you laughed, splashing in the water. "But it’s more than that. She just... has this energy."

Scott nodded, though he didn’t say anything more, leaving Jean alone with her thoughts. As you turned back to glance at her, your smile radiant, Jean felt her resolve begin to crack. Maybe it was time to stop hiding behind her fears and take a chance on what she truly wanted.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

The air around the beach was warm, with just the right hint of a breeze to keep things comfortable. Ororo had spent the morning making sure the weather was perfect for the outing, her powers ensuring a clear, sunny sky without a cloud in sight. She was standing near the water’s edge, her feet sinking into the sand, enjoying the peace of the day when she saw you.

The way the sunlight kissed your skin as you stepped onto the beach in a bikini left Ororo momentarily speechless. She had always known you were beautiful, but seeing you like this, so effortlessly confident and radiant, stirred something deep within her. She wasn’t the type to be easily rattled, always so in control of herself and her surroundings, but for a split second, she felt a crack in her calm exterior.

Your laughter reached her ears as you splashed into the water, completely unaware of the way Ororo’s gaze lingered on you. She could feel the tension building in her chest, a mixture of admiration and desire, though she maintained her poised stance. Ororo prided herself on her ability to remain level-headed, but the sight of you was testing that self-control.

"You okay, ‘Ro?" Rogue’s voice came from behind her, and Ororo turned, her serene expression back in place.

"Yes," she replied with a small smile, though her thoughts were still focused on you. Rogue followed her gaze and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused.

"Looks like someone’s got you a little distracted," Rogue teased lightly, nudging Ororo’s arm.

Ororo’s lips twitched into a soft smile, but she didn’t deny it. The truth was, she had been distracted by you for some time now, the connection between the two of you growing stronger with each passing day. She had always kept her feelings close to her chest, not wanting to let them cloud her judgment, but seeing you here now, so carefree and beautiful, made it harder to maintain her usual restraint.

As you waded further into the water, Ororo took a deep breath, her eyes softening. Maybe it was time to let go of the careful distance she had been keeping.

[feathered-mushrooms]

I like creative mind projects. This became one of them.

Alright let’s set the basics of this ‘show’. The Xavier Institute, situated in Salem, Westchester, is run by Charles Xavier. A professor, doctor, and world renowned author and scientist. However he possesses a secret, a discovery he made on his travels abroad: mutants. He has returned home and opened a school for those said mutants, and we follow his ‘first class’.

Our main characters, at least for season one, would be the og five. Scott, Jean, Warren, Bobby, and Hank. And guess what? The school actually is a school. They take classes taught by Charles, and do superhero stuff on the side. Here is their everyday clothes:

Think the vibes of X-men Evolution. The show would focus on the dual life of the kids, but would also focus on them being kids. The trouble they get into, the antics they get up to. The drama that comes with being a teenager. Additional clothes(on colder days)

So what is everyone’s backstory?

Scott Summers Scott has a very similar life to the one we know. Parents dead in a plane ‘accident’ and him being separated from his brother in the foster care system. He goes from house to house until his mutation manifests. In which he is thrown into a few bad situations regarding his foster parent using him for his powers, before being found by Charles. Scott was the first student to live on campus, but by far not the first student, however he sees Scott as a father(even if Charles doesn’t see him as his son). He is a mix of the cautious and rather reserved. He’s malnourished body earned him the nickname Slim, but don’t let the meek act fool you. He is sarcastic as you could imagine and has a very strong moral code. He will make a good leader.

Jean Grey Jean’s telekinesis came to her when she was young. Charles has been a constant figure in her life since then, almost taking on what she might call an ‘uncle’ role. He has been working with her for years, and was the first to know when her telepathy manifested, at the death of her best friend. To Charles, she was his first student, and the closest thing he feels he has to a kid. She joins the team last, the premier episode being about her moving into the mansion. She is feisty and spirited. The most reckless of the five, but also oddly balanced in responsibly. She knows she’s powerful and she fears it.

Warren Worthington III Warren’s wings did not grow in until he was away at boarding school. Lucky for him, he could hide them well at first by dropping all the sports he played. Warren used to play the part of an upstuck rich kid very well, but that never was him. When his wings fully came in, he spent the nights saving people from muggers and robbers. He realized it felt good to do something his parents would never do. When Charles offered him a place at the school he toke it, and has been learning to move past his rich ego, however some habits are hard to break. Warren still loves posh language and loves the fact that he is the richest among his friends, but also has a genuine want to help others.

Bobby Drake Bobby always knew he was different. He was gay. Something he found very hard to hide. That was until he found out he was a mutant, something he could hide behind. Bobby’s manifestion consisted of him freezing his entire room and himself, in a very Elsa manner. His parents were outraged, which caused Bobby to realize he could never come out to his parents. Charles came and wiped his parents mind, making everything easier, but Bobby still has the secret he has told no one. A secret he still hasn’t fully realized himself. Bobby hides his self loathing and anxieties behind bad jokes that he hops will be funny. As the youngest on the team, he often deals with the need to prove himself.

Hank McCoy Hank was good at hiding. His physical mutation made him very ape like in appearance, but if he stood the right way, played his card rights, and knew the right people, he could make everyone look past it. He was a genius, but hid behind a football jock exterior, an explanation for his body that made people look past him. Hank joined the school under the belief that he would not need to pretend anymore, and so he let go of his football alter ego. He prefers his academic side and is interested in pursuing the world of knowledge. He has a very academic way of speaking, but oddly really understands human emotion. He pushes himself hard and loves any and every form of learning.

In this show, the X-men was created by Charles as a way to get the public ready for the announcement of mutants, but they become so much more. Charles originally thinks that if the public can see super-powered people helping the world, they will be less likely to attack those people. He designs his perfect team, and even designs their suits.

The team….likes them….kinda

Within the first season, mutants would be exposed to the public and the X-men’s fight focus on the fight of oppression and proving they can be good. Teased in the final moments of season one, Scott will reveal the x-costumes he has designed for everyone. These would be the suits worn from then on forward, representing a switch from being Xavier’s X-men to the X-men that fight for mutant kind.

Additionally we would have lots of very weird love triangles!! Hank is not apart of it, because he very easily finds Vera who becomes his girlfriend. Bobby has a crush on Scott however. He plans to go to the grave with this fact. Warren and Scott both like Jean. Maybe they like each other….who knows? Jean on the other hand has no care in the world for romance at the moment and misses every interaction.

Some of the prominent names that would show up in the first season is of course Magneto. Magneto would be the battle for the first episode, and then there for the reveal of mutants, and then the final battle. He is the big overarching ‘villian’. Other villains would consist of classic 60’s villains such as Vanisher and the rest of the brotherhood. However Scarlet Witch and QuickSilver would not appear till season 2.

Additionally Xavier has a divorcee(that’s not Erik shocker) that is Moria McTaggert. I love the idea of them being bitter exes that have tea with each other and talk shit. Moria is mainly a doctor in Scotland, but would make appearances when one of the kids get to injured. Additionally she has ties to the CIA and aides Charles that way.

Some Pjs and fancy references

Nonetheless, let me know if you want more. I have lots of ideas regarding this and would love to drill on and on again