Warren

7

Good wood - feels like you’re in some kind of warren with this house in Makinohara, Japan, by Japanese studio mA-style architects. The aptly named ‘Ant House’ looks like a totally different house to what you’d expect inside the minimalist industrial shell.

2

This took me literally 5 HOURS!!! I think that might be the longest drawing I’ve done recently.

But it was so worth it. I’m very proud of how it turned out. 

This is my (late as fuck) submission for the @objectheadzine this year! ;3; I hope that’s how you submit it oops.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!!

(Do not STEAL, TRACE, or COPY, thank you!)

Theoretically

Originally posted by obscure-imagines

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Theoretically

Author: Morgan

Prompt: Can I have a Warren Worthington imagine? Like how about Warren got into a fight again and the reader is all worried and Warren says he’s okay and the reader just fixes his wounds and they cuddle?? I’M SO TRASH FOR WARREN

Note: I AM ALSO TRASH FOR WARREN OMG I MISSED HIMMMMM

Warnings: None?

Warren hesitated to knock on your door. Another night, another fight, and as usual, he had shed some blood and earned some new bruises. But he couldn’t help it. They had been making fun of him…of you. It was the last straw. So here he was, back at the Mansion with his fist poised to knock on your door.

After waiting several more seconds in silence, he finally knocked. You hopped out of bed and pulled the door open, certainly not expecting to see Warren standing there with a black eye, bloodied knuckles, and several scrapes and bruises. He was a mess, and at the moment, you couldn’t tell if the blood stain on his jacket was from him or someone else.

“Oh my God, Warren, are you okay?”

“Yeah…I’m fine.”

“Good. You have to stop doing this.”

“I know.” He lowered his face. There were several moments of silence.

“Get in here.”

“Yes ma’am.” He trudged through the door, his heavy metal wings trailing behind him. His golden Mohawk of curls had been thrown into disarray and now resembled more of a messy halo. A halo on your fallen angel.

“What was it this time?” You asked, taking a seat in front of him.

“They think I’m some no good villain.” He rolled his eyes. “What else is new?”

“Who did this?” you asked. He shook his head, his eyes settling on the toes of his boots. “Warren.”

“New guy. You don’t know him. But he knew me from the news or whatever.”

“You’re famous,” you chuckled a little.

“Infamous is more like it.” He shook his head. His eyes tentatively met yours. “I wish everyone was like you.”

“Oh hush.” You held out both of your hands. “You’re just lucky I’m a healer.”

Warren offered you his knuckles first. His large calloused hands relaxed under your gentle whispers of touches. The white glow from your hands was cool, and in instants, the gashes had dissolved to nothing, leaving only skin behind. You waved a hand in front of his face, causing the swollen eye to shrink, and then cleared up his bruises. When you were done, he let out a blissful sigh.

“Well, I guess not everything about getting into fights all the time is bad.”

“Elaborate.” You smirked as he leaned back against your bedframe.

“I mean, getting to see you is certainly a perk.”

“There are other ways to see me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Oh hey, (Y/N), want to go to the mall?’ or ‘hey (Y/N), do you want to go out with me?’ would work just fine, but nooooo, angel boy and his bad boy complex always seem to-”

“So you’d go out with me?” he cut you off, a smirk finding his lips. It did not help that you just noticed the way his black t-shirt hugged his biceps. Shit, he was hot. “Theoretically, of course.”

“Theoretically…yes.” You scooted a little closer to him and let a cold finger trail down the fabric of his t-shirt. Abs. Goddamn. “And if we’re being 100 percent honest here, I’ve always kind of had a thing for bad boys.”

“Is that so?” he raised an eyebrow and twirled a curl of your hair around one of his large fingers.

“Mmhmm.”

“Interesting.”

But, I’m also a huge cuddler. So, theoretically of course, this bad boy would have to be down for some mean cuddle sessions from time to time.”

“Oh, believe me, I can cuddle.” He crossed his muscular arms as though you had just proposed a challenge.

“Oh can you?”

“For your information, yes. I can.” You were skeptical. “Come here. Right now. We’re cuddling.”

“Are we?”

“We are. Right here. Right now.” Warren sunk down into the pillows the slightest bit. He opened his arms wide and folded and tucked his metal wings as far beneath him as possible. You crawled beneath the covers and surrendered to his strong embrace. He brushed the tiny hairs out of the front of your face. “See?”

“Cozy indeed, bad boy.” You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips and flicked the light off. “Goodnight.”

And so there the two of you were. Someone broken, and someone who pieced broken things back together. With you in his arms, Warren had never slept better.

Icarus - Warren Worthington III

words - 1,252

pairing - warren worthington iii x fem!reader

warnings - fluff, a smidge of angst

tags: @put-in-writing, @kurtwxgners, @emmcfrxst, @rax-writes, @raypclmer

hope you don’t mind me taggin you! x

______________________________________________________________

Warren always felt like he was always in the dark. No matter how many lights he had on, no matter how many windows were open, he was always in the shadows.

Until he met her.

The girl who cut through the shadows that consumed him and brought light into his cold world.

Literally.

When she smiled, it was like a lightbulb turned on and when she laughed it was like the shades had been drawn back.

When she blushed, her entire body lit up, literally gracing him with a yellowish glow.

But when she looked at him with that sparkle in her eye, that sparkle she got only when she looked at him, he noticed, he felt the sun beat down on his face even on the darkest nights.

But he never expected it to last. He expected her to leave, to see how damaged he was, to learn of the bad things he’d done in his past and walk away like everyone else. But she didn’t.

She loved and embraced every part of him no matter how horrendous. She looked past his flaws, and he had many.

When they hit two months, he began to brace himself for the imminent departure of the only bright spot in his life because, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t think it would last as long as it did.

But…she stayed.

Five months rolled around and though she was still there, a fact he was still reeling from, he was nevertheless expecting the inevitable blow.

But as her hand grasped his, the other digging into his shoulder as he ground his hips against hers, from between her parted lips she uttered, “I love you.”, causing his hips to stutter against hers and the words to leave his mouth in a succession of grunts and moans, he knew, somehow, despite all his doubts, he knew, that she wouldn’t leave. 

And when their year anniversary rolled around and he expected her smiles and laughs to be more forced, as he took her to the place where they had their first real date, her grin seemed to widen and her laughs seemed as genuine as ever.

He loved her as Icarus loved the sun-

Too close and too much.

Yet when he got too close to her warmth and loved her so much that he had given her his entire heart, he did not burn.

He did not turn to ash

or fall to the earth as Icarus did when he fell in love with the sun.

She was the life that sustained him and without her, he would have crashed to earth much like Icarus did all those millennia ago.