Piglets (Warren Worthington)

skeletonwoman:

req: 

From the recent writing prompts you posted, can I get 2. I’m right here, okay? You’re all right. With Warren Worthington and if possible can you you make it so the reader says it to him? If not thats fine, thanks!

hey, requester, it was perfectly fine and an all-round delightful request to fill, thanks for requesting it.

---

The black mark of a fallen angel against the setting sun.

“F*ck,” you swear softly, your eyes burning. Turning around completely,
you stare at the orange splashed leaves and try to soak up the last vestiges of
the warm afternoon. Wing beats hit your ears and a sharp wind rushes over your
already dimpling arms. Douchebag.

“You didn’t even see,” Warren complains, strutting around to
face you and you level him with a weak glare. For a moment, he looks concerned.
“How are you supposed to fall in love with me if you’re not even looking at the
utterly drool worthy moments I’m constantly offering you?”

Grunting noncommittally, you sidle past him and head back to
the house. He literally called you out here to blind you- how utterly drool
worthy.

“Hey! I didn’t- Y/N!” His voice is whiny and you just barely
check your speed, enough that his seconds hesitation means you aren’t already
halfway across the lawn once he catches up to you. Jogging to catch up, Warren steps in front of you, stopping you,
and gives you a pathetic look. “I’m sorry, I really did want to show you
something.”

“More than the average trick I just saw or was that all of it?”

“No, no!” He says quickly then pauses. Oh wow. That was all
he had. “I wanted to show you… The… Baby pigs on the neighbours’ farm.”

Now that’s got you
interested. “There’s seriously baby pigs on the neighbours’ farm? Since when?”

“Like a week ago!” He’s excited now, excited because you’re
more than half interested, and it’s really cute. “I heard their awful
screeching a few days and flew down to have a look- I got screamed at but it
was worth it. Wanna go see?”

“Now?” You hesitate, rubbing your arms nervously. It really
is cooling down out here and the suns so close to disappearing entirely.

“You wanna get a jumper and some torches first?” The offer
is so sweet and concern filled you could cry. Since when have boys ever been nice enough to get jumpers?
Usually they just give you theirs and act all weird and macho about it. “Real
quick, before all the light disappears.”

“Yeah, definitely, let’s do it,” you find yourself saying
and his face lights up.

“I’ll be two seconds if you wait right here?” He says,
already half in the air and you laugh, but nod.

“Sure, sure.”

“Okay, great.” He exhales a happy breath and shoots toward
the building. For a second, he’s a bright beacon in the shadows, then he’s gone
around the back of the building and you’re alone on the lawn. It really is starting to get
cold.

Bouncing on your toes, you rub your arms and sigh.

Whooshing sounds and a scuffle of feet on grass has you
turning. “Warren.”

“I’m back,” he says and you reach for the jumper he offers
you, the material cold from its short flight. “Can you hold these?”

You frown as he dumps four torches into your hands but
accept them all the same, stuffing them into the kangaroo pocket on the hoodie.
“This is yours, isn’t it?”

“No, I totally borrowed Scotts cause the idea of you wearing
anything of mine is so gross,” he counters and you giggle, shooting him a side
eyed smile. If it wasn’t so dark you don’t doubt you’d see a flush on his cheeks. 

“It smells good, Scott must smell good,” you bait and his
head whips around so fast you’re worried about whiplash.

“It’s mine, it’s so mine, Scotts never seen it in his life,”
he says quickly and shamelessly and you laugh outright. Stepping into his space when he beckons you closer, you try not to smile too much. “C’mere, we’re gonna fly.”

“Thank goodness,” you whisper, stepping right into the circle of
his arms as you contemplate just how long a walk all the way across the grounds
would have taken. His chuckle is warm, warmer than his hands when they settle
onto the small of your back. “Jeez!”

“Sorry, cold hands,” he whispers and you blink up at his
shadowy face. Oh, man, he is really cute when you can’t quite see him. Sure,
he’s cute all the time but he’s extra cute when it’s just his warm voice and
thudding heartbeat and gentle touches. “Ready?”

Nodding, you jump into his arms and wrap your legs around
his waist, feeling him hug you close. As quietly and subtly as you can, you
sniff him.

“You just sniffed me,” he says casually and you scowl into
the darkness. Never doing that again.

“Show me the pigs.”

---

Their tiny snuffling bodies are possibly the cutest thing on
four trotters. Pink as a valentine’s card and as cute as one too, you’re just
about ready to expire.

“You will never be able to top this,” you whisper, kneeling
beside the sleepy sow and running a finger down the spine of a snoring piglet. “I
want one.”

“If we could get away with it, I’d take one right now.” The
words are casual but you can tell he really wants one too. You grin at him, only
to cringe when he shines the torch in your face. “Sorry.”

“Honestly, Warren, it’s like you are deliberately sabotaging
youself,” you grumble and he sighs. After a few more minutes, you rise and step
away from the warm pig pile and out of the little shed they live in.

“We should go,” you whisper and Warren rises with you, his
footsteps crunching on the hay.

Hold on.

“There’s someone out here,” you whisper, the words choking
from your lips as fear claws at your throat. It’s just a guy, it’s probably
just the neighbour coming to yell at you for the pigs, it’s probably nothing like a
crazy monster murderer. “Warren.”

It takes less than a second. Warren scoops you into his arms
and his wings give a mighty heave just as the gunshot goes off. Your scream is
sharp and you muffle yourself against the warm cotton of Warrens jumper. He’s
stiff as a board and silent but you can’t help cursing and crying as he flies
the two of you back to the mansion.

You don’t see the journey, you’re too panicked, but now you’re
in Warrens room and it’s dark and he’s put you down and stepped back and you’re
suddenly worried for a whole other reason. “Warren?”

“Y-you-” The word is a choked stutter and your heart stops,
only to start again as you take a hesitant step toward him. “You should g-go.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Gently, you reach for him, moving agonizingly but purposefully slowly and when you do touch him, he jumps but doesn’t shy away.
Taking his hands, you slide them over your body, down your arms, over your
waist, through your hair and across your shoulders. “I’m okay.”

Reaching out, you do the same to him, gently checking him
over for any hurts. “You’re okay too.”

“I’m right here, okay?
You’re alright, I’m alright, we’re okay.” The hug is sudden and nearly crushes you, almost
literally, but you squeeze him back just as fiercely. “Guns suck and lets never
go back there ever again.”

“Oh God, I’m so sorry,” he says, the words finally passing
his lips and you hug him tighter. Pushing gently, you guide him to the bed and
sit him down, still clinging to him. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t- f*ck, I’m so
sorry.”

“It’s okay, we’re okay.” Promises drip from your lips and
his heartbeat steadily slows, his grip on you gentling as his fear subsides. “You
and me, we’re just perfect.”

His laughter is strained and sarcastic but it’s there and
you sigh at the sweet sound of it.

Holy hell. Some random person fired a gun at you. At the both
of you. What the f*ck.

“You’re gonna sleep over,” Warren orders and you don’t argue.
Laughter and footsteps peter through the wooden door and you’re reminded that
this entire place is alive. No one knows what just happened, your absence isn’t
notable yet and the place has gone on while the two of you were nearly
murdered. “Oh, it’s seven.”

You giggle softly, and kick off your shoes. You’re gonna
sleep over anyway.

“I want to go to bed right now, anyway,” you say, sprawling
across his bed and he grins at you over his shoulder. “Go bed?”

“Sure,” he says with enough warmth to fill the room and you
sigh, cozying down among his blankets with a wingtip tickling the back of your
thigh.

---

wazz-up 

get it

wazz

like warren

wazza

wazz

ok