Title: Angelic Signs. Pairing: (Implied) Warren Worthington iii(Angel) x Reader. Words: 2067(Total of 4 drabbles). Rating: T.(Mild angst 🙂 ))
No.1.
“Here,” Warren said, looking down at you with focused blue eyes while tossing you an oversized jacket. It appeared to be too big for himself as well, so you didn’t ask where he stole it from and merely shrugged it over your small shoulders. It was leather, and it smelt old. And, by the wear and tear around the sleeves, slightly faded on the arms where they’d bend, and the lack of squeaking the fabric gave as you adjusted it on your body, told you that it was. Vague in your mind was the wonderment of where he had gotten it, but you pushed that aside and slipped your arms through the jacket holes. There were slight tears in the back where he had made room to snuggle his wings through. You snorted, but only slightly.
“It’ll get cold in here.” Warren was avoiding any sort of literal eye contact, and the moments he did look at your face, he was looking at you, not into your eyes.
Warren’s wings were slack against his back, the tips of his longest feathers occasionally scattering against the ground as he walked. They weren’t pure white, like many would think. The longer you looked at his wings, the more imperfections you would find. Maybe, it was blood or dirt, you thought to yourself, looking at the dark specks that scattered along his wings, maybe they were truly white, but he’s spent so much time fighting, and avoiding death himself, that getting that dirty was nothing.
There was absolutely no doubt in your mind that he was angelic, though you knew it was his mutation that caused such a godly appearance. It didn’t seem to affect him at all, and you could see lack of cockyness in the way he walked. Peeps of the moonlight leaked in through the patchy roof, illuminating bits of his feathers, his blond hair shining every so often as he sat himself down onto his make-shift bed, before glancing over at you again.
Licking his chapped lips, Warren let a small sigh out. He couldn’t quite tell if finding you was a good thing, or if it was just going to be a drain on his resources and time. All he knew was that he didn’t have the heart to leave you alone, especially on the harsh and unnerving streets of East Berlin. Years of fending for himself, and isolation hasn’t left him that heartless.
“What was your name again?” He asked, curling his wings around his body to stay a bit warmer.
Toad's Cave 