Prompt:
Could you do another Warren x empath!reader where Warren gets into a brawl with
a stereotypical jock in a restaurant because the guy kept making disrespectful
passes at the reader (even though she is obviously dating Warren) and Warren
wins the fight but is hurt more emotionally than physically bc the guy called
him trash and a freak and worries again that he doesn’t deserve her but she
uses her powers and words to calm his fears and heal his injuries and cute
fluffy stuff like that?
Note:
There are so many things ahead of this, but I’m having Warren FEELS. And also, I
wrote the first part like a few days ago, so I may as well write it while it’s
recent.
“You really need to stop getting into fights,”
you sighed, walking into your bedroom. Warren was sitting on your bed, several
scrapes and cuts all over his body and tears in his eyes. You knew how he felt.
Hurt. He always seemed to. But you didn’t blame him. Not this time.
You and him and some of the others were at
the mall, sitting in the food court when some very rude teenage boys started to
flirt with you, despite the fact that you and Warren were holding hands and he
had one of his large feathery wings draped over your shoulder.
Then they proceeded to tell him all sorts of
things that weren’t true. That he was a freak, that he didn’t deserve you, that
you were too good for him. You knew none of those things were true, and you
hoped he did too, but he still fought them. And while he had won, he still felt
like he lost.
“I know,” he sighed, shoulders hunched. His
eyes met yours briefly before finding his feet. His legs were spread in front
of him, and he was leaning back on his arms.
“You know the drill. Shirt off.” You
instructed. He nodded silently, tugging the black Metallica shirt over his head
and dropping it to the floor. How he managed to put on clothes with his
monstrous wings was still a mystery to you. “Look at me, Warren,”
“(Y/N)…” he trailed off, eyes wandering
anywhere but to yours.
“Warren,” you kneeled on the bed, swinging a
leg over his and sitting on his thighs.
“Why do you care about me?” he asked, tears
threatening to spill from his blue eyes. “I’m so reckless and damaged and my
temper is…not the calmest. My own father didn’t want me, why should you?”
“Doesn’t it make sense that the boy with the most
pain ended up with the healer?” You smiled softly, your hands finding his
cheeks. He visibly stiffened as your healing chills ran through him. The
bruises and cuts on his face dissolved to nothing, his black eye fading to
normal.
“You deserve better.” He murmured. “I’m a f-”
“If you say freak, so help me God.”
“It’s true.”
“No. It’s not.” You shook your head. “You’re
not a freak. You’re not a monster or anything else. You are the sweetest,
kindest guy I’ve ever met. And yeah, you’re a little rough around the edges,
but you’ve been through a hell of a lot.”
“Yeah, but-”
“I love you, Warren,” you interrupted him.
His eyes widened slightly and he closed his mouth, wings twitching.
“You what?” he asked, a hitch in his voice.
“I love you to the moon and back, and I wish
you could see that.” You confessed. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Tears of
relief, of unexplainable joy. Warm emotions radiated from his chest.
“I love you too,” he sat up and pressed his
lips to yours. You kissed him softly, meaningfully. When you released, he laid
back down on your bed. You laid on his bare chest, hands gently stroking his
muscles.
“I’ll always be here to fix you.” You told
him. “Always.”
“I know,” he hummed with content, his large
hand running through your hair. His wings wrapped around you, keeping you safe
and warm. “I love you so much.”
Toad's Cave 