-you’d meet during the Apocalypse ordeal and he’d save you from a falling building
-after the Apocalypse thing he’d get his real feathered wings back and come to the Mutant school with you.
-he would always be holding your hand
-at first he’d feel really bad about what he did with Apocalypse so he’d almost hide behind you.
-but your friends would welcome him because they can see the way he looks at you with eyes full of love.
-once he was comfortable, he’d be back to his snarky, confident, cocky self.
-cuddles 24/7 because he’s a teddy bear and needs love
-his wings bumping into things
-gripping you like you could be stolen from his arms at any moment
-burrowing his face into your neck during one of those long hugs
-his wings encircling you like a protective barrier
-he sleeps sprawled everywhere and his wings go over everything
-he sleeps in too.
-but he always manages to grab you and secure you to his side when he sleeps, his wing resting on top of you like a protective dog or cat
-you stand near the window while Warren sleeps. suddenly those big muscled arms wrap around your bare waist and lips find the skin on your neck, ‘good morning beautiful.’ he murmurs against your neck in that husky morning voice of his.
-food fights in the community kitchen
-sexy times and kinky times because that kid is a kinky shit
-showers together where his wings almost break the glass shower door because they’re so big and there’s no way the both of you can actually fit in the shower
-he’d have a thing for laying down with his head in your lap while you stroke his blonde hair, and he’d look up at you with adoring baby blues.
-tracing the tattoos left from Apocalypse and he gets ashamed of them but you tell him they’re beautiful like the rest of him
-he’d get nervous about doing romantic things in public, like for an anniversary he’d get you a rose and dress in a suit to take you to dinner some place fancy and he’d be so nervous his wings would shake and he’d turn red and look at the ground when he sees how beautiful you are dressed for the occasion.
-rough kisses
-kisses where he gently cups your face
-kisses all over you as he tickles you
–love marks
-movie dates where you cuddle and watch anything you want and eat pizza together
Note: Here, on this Merry Crisis, have some Christmas fic. This was actually originally posted in July…but that doesn’t matter. It’s Christmas now.
The power of invisibility came with many perks. One of which, you were using right now to Santa-hat ambush your teammates. First was Kurt. He was the easiest, despite the fact that he was a teleporter. At the moment, he was curled up on the couch, a mug of cocoa in-hand. He was very cozy, and as you stuck a red and white hat on his head, he didn’t so much as flinch. In fact, he smiled, very excited to embrace his first holiday season in America.
Next came Peter. This was easier said than done. Even with your invisibility, every time you got close to him, he zipped across the room to do something. But after about ten minutes of chasing him down, he too was wearing a Santa hat.
After Peter, you pulled a Santa Hat onto Scott’s head. He was too busy kissing Jean to notice. But when he pulled away, he caught sight of the fuzzy white poofball attached to the red hat’s tail.
“What the-?”
“Watch,” Jean whispered. Sure enough, more Santa hats began appearing on the heads of their friends around the room from seemingly nowhere, and seeing as Peter was preoccupied and the room wasn’t full of smoke, there was only one other person it could be. You.
And after you had Santa’d Jean, Charles, Ororo, Jubilee, Hank, and Logan, there was only one person left.
Warren.
Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of it, but you pushed yourself onwards. He was leaning against the wall, away from the others, watching with a bemused smirk. If he heard one more comment about him being the Christmas angel or something that involved him climbing on top of that tree, he was going to shove it so far up Peter’s ass-
He looked around the room. Everyone except him was wearing a Santa hat. Had they been like that a minute ago? He was sure they hadn’t. Wait a minute.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispered softly.
You froze in place, your arms poised just above his head. A smirk tugged at your lip, and another idea struck. You leaned in very slowly and pressed a long kiss to his cheek.
He grinned and reached out for you, a large hand settling on your waist. His touch shocked you into visibility, and suddenly you were standing there in front of him, wearing your candy cane-striped pajamas with rosy cheeks and wide eyes. He brushed the hair out of your face, his rough fingers brushing against the soft skin of your face. You stuck the Santa hat on top of his golden curls, a mischievous twinkle in your gaze. He exhaled a long breath, just taking you in. And then he pulled you in for a sweet, holiday kiss.
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.”
Prompt(s):
Hi again! I was wondering if you could write something where the reader is an
Empath at Xavier’s Institute and feels Angel’s pain (both physical and
emotional, tho he tries to hide it) after his experiences in Berlin and she
goes to comfort him and although guarded at first, he admits that he likes her
but is scared of her getting hurt bc “something bad is coming” and the reader
promising they’ll get through it together, if he’ll let them. Thanks so much!”
and “Could you do something super cute with like insecure Angel? I have a
pathological need for someone to reassure him that he’s goregeous and love him
for eternity.”
Note:
Reader also has healing abilities.
Warnings:
APOCALYPSE SPOILERS!! And it gets a lil steamy, but nothing bad.
Being an empath meant you could feel the
feelings of others. Every emotion rang at a different level on your figurative
scale, but the loudest of all at the moment was Warren’s pain. He was in the
Danger Room, hiding out. You could feel him there, curled up in the corner
listening to his heavy rock music with an empty bottle of liquor in his hand.
When you couldn’t stand the deep rattling of
his pain any longer, you got up from the couch in the living room and made your
way through the house to find him. You walked into the Danger Room, to the back
corner. Warren was there, his thick curly blonde hair tousled and tears in his
eyes.
“What do you want?” he asked, not even
glancing up at you with his tired blue eyes.
“I could feel your pain from upstairs,” You told
him, taking a seat beside him. “Emotional and
physical.”
“Yeah, well, that tends to happen when you
have literal knives digging into your back all the time,” Warren replied,
tilting his bottle back, but finding there was nothing left. He set it down beside
him and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
“When I brought you back-”
“From the dead, you mean,”
“Yes. When I brought you back from the dead,
you left the infirmary before I could fix your wings.” You told him, running
your fingers over the cool metal.
“I didn’t think that was a thing you could
do,”
“I can do it.” You told him. “And then we can
talk about the emotional stuff.”
“I know how you heal. I’d rather talk first.”
He told you, smirking.
“So what’s bugging you?”
“I just…since we got here. Since I got here, I’ve just felt like
something was coming. Something bad. And that wouldn’t be such a problem if I
didn’t care about anyone. But I do.” He sighed, his large hand wrapping around
your wrist. “When I came back, the first thing I saw was you. I might be the
one with wings, but believe me; you’re
the angel.”
“Warren,” You sighed, smiling gently. His
eyes finally found yours, locking into your gaze.
“If you ever got hurt…I…I can’t lose you, (Y/N). I don’t know if
you feel the same, but I care about you a lot, and I would never get over
losing you.” He confessed. “I know I’m not good enough for-”
“Hold up. Don’t you ever think you’re not good enough, Warren. Ever. You are strong and
brave and handsome and I wouldn’t change a thing about you, not even the metal
wings. I just don’t want you to be in so much pain all the time. And if
something bad comes as bad things always seem to, we’ll get through it
together.”
“Promise?”
“I promise,” You told him. He sighed in
relief and glanced back at his wings.
“You know, these things were cool at first,
but now they’re dangerous and painful. I used to hate my wings, the fragile
feathery ones, but being like this for a while…I want them back.” he admitted,
the metal hissing as he retracted them, starting to stand up. He offered you a
hand and helped you to your feet.
“You sure you want me to do this?” you asked.
“I can’t turn them back to this.”
“I’m sure.” he nodded, blue eyes locked on
yours. “It won’t hurt, will it?”
“It shouldn’t,” you told him. “But you might
need a nap after.”
“Well, that’s not so bad.” he chuckled. “All
right. Work your magic.”
“Here goes nothing,” you lifted your hands to
his bare shoulders, gently touching the scarred skin. Tingles shot through him,
a cool sensation rushing over his skin as the scars and cuts from his blades
healed.
Once the scars were all gone, you stroked his
cheeks, looking to him for approval. He nodded shakily. He was nervous. He had
only kissed you one other time and that was when you brought him back to life,
so that didn’t really count. He stooped down a little so you didn’t have to
reach. Gently, you brought your lips to his. His eyes widened before they
closed. The blissful tingly feeling coursed through his veins. He wrapped his
arms around your waist, pulling you close. He felt the blades on his back begin
to fall off one by one, each crashing to the floor with a clang.
Warren groaned in pleasure, his lips moving
against yours slowly, but picking up pace. White, puffy feathers emerged from
his back, peeking out before stretching to full length. Warren groaned again,
his hands finding your thighs and pulling you up onto his hips, holding you
there. Power ran through him like a burning fire, hot with passion.
He felt stronger, ready to take on the world.
His wings were back to normal and you were in his arms, safe from harm. He came
down from his high, breathing heavily. His muscular chest heaved as he set you
down.
Magnificent white wings stretched behind him.
You smiled, exhausted. You fell against his strong chest, unable to support
your own weight. Warren didn’t hesitate to scoop you up into his strong arms.
“Looks like you’re the one that needs the
nap,” he chuckled. You nodded silently.
“Give it a minute, buddy.” You patted his
chest. “You might not even make it up the stairs by the time that energy wears
off,”
“My room or yours?”
“Mine,” you told him, closing your eyes as
you listened to his heartbeat. Warren ran out of the Danger Room, up the
stairs, and onto the second floor. You were right. The energy was wearing off
fast, and by the time he got to your room, he was dragging his feet.
He set you on the bed and just about fell on
top of you, pulling his legs onto the mattress. He laughed softly, his head
finding a spot on your shoulder and his wings draping over you like a warm
feathery blanket.
“I love you, Warren,” you murmured, your fingers
running through his golden locks as you drifted off.
Prompt(s):
“Could you maybe write some type of soulmate thing with Warren? I absolutely
love your stories!!” and “Warren soulmate thing? Where like some people are
born with marks that represent their soulmate in some way, and you have wings
on your back and Warren has something somewhere that goes with your mutation,
like if the reader had electrokinesis or something he would have a lightning
bolt?”
Note:
I am a sucker for soulmate AUs. Also, this is a really interesting concept, and
I really like it. Reader has plant powers, just because I think it might be
confusing for Warren with Storm and all. Like she has Electric powers and you
wouldn’t want things getting mixed up, you feel?
Warnings:
APOCALYPSE SPOILERSSS!!!
Living in a mutant fight club was hell. Every
day, Warren was forced to fight mutant after mutant. Some of them walked away
fine. Others…not so much. And sometimes, he
was the one that got hurt. It was no way to live, but one thing got him through
the long days and lonely nights. The marks on his arm.
Yes, Warren was a mutant, it was true. He had
giant, magnificent wings, but he also had soulmate marks. They were etched into
his arms, trailing upwards from the veins in his wrists. Leafy vines, twisting
and turning, a few flowers here and there.
He stared at them before he went to bed,
often tracing them gently with his fingers when he was alone. It was his
solace. His safe place. When he was thinking of his soulmate, whoever and
wherever she was, he felt like all of this trouble was worth it if it meant he
got to meet her eventually.
And then Apocalypse came. Warren was broken,
sad, alone, and Apocalypse had scooped him up, tempted him into doing his
bidding. But after Warren was rescued, he went with the others, to Xavier’s
School for Gifted Youngsters.
It was one of his first days there. He walked
through the courtyard, surrounded by his new friends. And then he saw you. You
were standing under the biggest tree on the campus, arms wide open. Your back
was to him, and on your back, etched into the skin under your green dress was a
very distinct pair of feathery wings. He broke into a run, leaving the others
behind as he ran to meet you.
“Warren, where are you going?” asked Scott,
but he spotted the marks on your back. It was you. Warren’s soulmate.
Warren stopped, standing just behind you. He
took a breath, running his fingers through his curly blonde locks and puffing
out his muscular chest. He straightened out the sleeves of his leather jacket.
Finally, he reached forward and tapped your shoulder.
You turned around. He gasped softly, taken
aback by how beautiful you were. But he was also scared, terrified beyond
words. Would you like him for him? Metal wings and all? Or would you reject him
as everyone in his life had before the Mansion?
“Hi,” you smiled, greeting him. Suddenly,
your smile faded and your eyes went wide. “Oh my God, you’re…you’re my…” you
started tearing up. Here it was. The rejection. Warren’s shoulders fell, preparing
for the worst.
And then you hugged him. It was a tight,
nearly bone-crushing hug, but he loved it more than words could describe.
“You have no idea…” you sobbed gently, tears
of joy streaming down your cheeks. “How long I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
“Aww, don’t cry.” He held you tight, rubbing
your back. He smiled, one of his first real smiles in a long, long time. “I’m sorry
it took me so long to find you.”
“I always knew you would come,” you
whispered. “Oh my God, I don’t even know your name.”
“Warren,” he introduced. “What’s yours?”
“(Y/N),” you replied. “I just…I want to know
everything about you.”
“Well, now we have all the time in the world.”
he chuckled. You peppered kisses all over his face. He laughed, smiling
brightly. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe the most beautiful girl
in the entire world was wrapped up in his arms and kissing him relentlessly.
After all of the pain, all of the fighting, all of the loss, the war, you were
here and everything would be better.
***
Later that night, you were laying on top of
him on one of the many couches at the Mansion. Your fingers traced his muscles.
He watched you, smiling softly.
“I never imagined in all of that, that I
would ever find you.” Warren whispered, one of his hands stroked your cheek. “I
wish you could have seen my wings before. They were beautiful.”
You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his.
You gently rubbed his cheek with your thumb.
“Warren, everything about you is beautiful,”
you told him.
“I love you so much.” he pressed a long, tender
kiss to your forehead.
“I love you too,” you smiled, scanning his
face before you kissed him full on the lips.
Warren knew one thing for certain. He would
never get enough of this.
Prompt:
Can I request a Warren Worthington (Angel) imagine where the reader and him are
acting all cuddly and fluffy so Peter and Scott are making fun of him for going
soft but he tries to act tough in front of them? Thank you, I’m having major
feels.
Note:
Awwwwwww my babyyyyy
Warnings:
Swears and suggestions ;).
It was a sunny Saturday afternoon at the
Mansion. You were cuddling with your boyfriend of three months, Warren. His
strong arms were around you as you laid on his muscular chest. Your fingers
traveled up through his curly golden locks. He smiled, kissing your temple.
“Babe,” he said suddenly. He sounded like
something was troubling him.
“What?” you asked, looking up at his face.
You smiled. God, he was so handsome.
“I’m not…going soft, am I?” he asked, definitely a little bit worried.
“Why?”
“Am I?”
“No. You’re still the badass I fell in love
with.” you reassured him, resting your cheek on his chest. “Now tell me why?”
“The boys keep teasing me.” he admitted.
“Teasing you about us?”
“Yeah. They think I’m turning into a teddy
bear.”
“Well you are
pretty cuddly.” you poked his nose. He smirked, unamused by your little gesture.
“Tell you what, Jean, Jubilee, Ororo, and I are going out tonight to catch a
movie and go shopping. You can act tough in front of the guys and when I get
home-”
“How about I’ll surprise you when you get
home?” he suggested, an idea popping into his head. You nodded, a sly grin
slowly creeping across your face. You had an idea of your own.
***
“You look hot,” Jubilee applauded as you
walked out of the dressing room. Jean and Ororo nodded in agreement.
You were wearing a pair of ripped skinny jeans,
a tight black Metallica t-shirt, one of Warren’s leather jackets, a pair of
angel wing earrings, and heavy black ankle-boots. Your hair was tossed over one
side of your head, your eyeliner was thick and dark, and your eyeshadow was
red. Your nails had been painted black. God, you felt hot.
“I’ve never really tried the rocker look
before, but…” you spun around, looking at yourself in the mirror. Warren had
never seen you like this either.
“He’s going to lose his mind,” Jean smirked. “I’d
be surprised if he doesn’t melt into
a puddle as soon as he sees you.”
“Agreed,” Ororo nodded. “His jaw will quite
literally hit the floor.”
“I can’t wait,” you grinned, looking at your
reflection and biting your lip.
***
“You guys are lightweights,” Warren scoffed,
downing another shot of vodka. The Four Horsemen by Metallica blared loudly in
the danger room. Luckily, it was soundproof.
“Dude, I’m the only one here legal to drink,”
Peter chuckled.
“Actually, in Germany, zhe legal drinking age
is sixteen,” Kurt piped up, still completely alcohol free. “I just don’t like
alcohol. It’s sinful.”
“Bro, there are like three of you,” Scott
chuckled, pointing hazily at Peter. Peter laughed.
“Dude.” Peter shook his head. Kurt laughed. He
looked up at Warren, who fanned his wings and played air-guitar as the big
guitar solo played. “Okay, maybe you aren’t going soft.”
“Damn right,” Warren nodded. “I mean, I did meet my girlfriend when I punched
her in the face.”
“I forgot about that,” Peter chuckled. “And
then she saved your life.”
“Yeah, she’s kind of a badass too,” Warren
smirked. Peter’s eyes widened, looking behind Warren at the entrance to the
danger room. It opened, revealing you in your rocker get-up.
“You have no clue,” Peter rubbed the back of
his neck. Warren turned around, raising an eyebrow. His jaw dropped as he took
you in.
“Hey babe,” you greeted, walking up to him
confidently in your clunky leather boots. He was frozen, staring at you. The girls
watched from the doorway, smiling. You rested your hand on his chest, smirking.
He swallowed thickly.
“You…” he couldn’t seem to get words to come
out of his mouth. “Um, you look good. Like really good. Hot. You look hot.”
“That’s kinda what I was going for.”
“Is that my-”
“Jacket? Yeah. It is.” you nodded. “But…if
you wanna come up to my room and help me take it off…”
“Bye guys,” Warren bid the others farewell.
He lifted you off of the floor, literally
carrying you all the way there. The girls high-fived. Peter looked around at
the others.
“Yep. He’s going soft.” Peter rested his
hands on his hips. “Oh, and Jean, your boyfriend’s drunk.”
“Scott,”
she sighed, walking over to help him off of the floor.
***
About an hour later, you and Warren were laying
on your backs on your bed, breathing heavily. Warren had red lipstick marks all
over. His hair was a mess and he was dressed only in his black boxers. You were
down to a t-shirt and black short-shorts.
“I’m not going soft, am I?” Warren checked,
smirking.
Prompt:
There wasn’t one. I was having feels and had this idea and I just needed
something to get back into the swing of fanfic.
Note:
Hey y’all. It’s Morgan. I know, I know, long time no see. But, here I am. I’ve
been working on my manuscript, and I’m in a really good spot so I won’t lose my
train of thought but yeah… I’m already 4,000 words in and feeling great. I’m
just rewriting everything and it
feels so good and so much better than the first few times I wrote it.
Anywho,
Reader is a healer. This is a soulmate au where any injury your soulmate gets,
you get too. Also, everyone is given a necklace at birth that gets warmer and
warmer when you get closer to your soulmate. I think that’s all you need to
know.
Warnings:
None?
Over the past few years, your injuries had
been piling up. You hadn’t done anything, but you had cuts and gashes and
scrapes all over all the time. Being a healer, you tried to heal them up, bu
you couldn’t. They weren’t yours to heal. They were your soulmate’s.
You didn’t know where he was or who he was or
what he was doing all the time to get so many injuries, but you figured he wasn’t
in the best place. When you turned sixteen, you knew you had to find him, no
matter what it took, so you could heal him and end his pain, and in turn, yours.
You had no clue where to start, where to
look. It was hard to use your necklace as a guide. If you took a step one way
it only got slightly warmer or colder. It was very hard to tell, so you sort of
gave up, deciding to leave it to fate. But that changed when out of nowhere, a
huge burning gash opened up on your back. You screamed, falling to the floor,
arms holding your body tight as you waited for the pain to subside.
You gritted your teeth and got up off of the
ground. You had to do something now, before he got both of you killed.
A few hours later, you felt a scratching on
your left arm. You glanced down. it wasn’t hard enough or sharp enough to leave
a mark, but it was there. B…E…R…L…I…N
Berlin.
He was trying to tell you where he was. Maybe
he was mortally wounded or worse. If it felt horrible to you, it probably felt
four times worse to him. You had to get to him and soon.
***
Once you got to Berlin, about 36 hours later,
you decided to send him a message. You scratched into your thigh, gently with
your fingernail. I am here.
It took a few moments, but he scratched
something below the other message. Another location. A barn. An old abandoned
barn.
***
Warren hadn’t expected a response. He hadn’t
even expected you to get his message. But he was desperate, hurt. He needed
someone. Anyone. His heart raced in
his chest when he felt a tingle on his thigh.
I
am here.
He couldn’t believe it. You had come. You
were so close. The necklace around his neck got warmer and warmer the closer
you got. He sent you the address of the place. He knew you would be able to
find it. Soon, he heard footsteps. There was a knock on the old wooden door. A faint
‘hello?’ from the other side of it.
Warren just about fell out of the rafters.
“C-come on in,” he replied hesitantly,
turning off his radio and setting down his bottle of vodka. You pushed open the
door and it caved in.
“Hello?” you called again, looking around,
and then up. You gasped at the sight of him, standing in the rafters, his
once-magnificent wings spread out behind him.
“You…” he tried to string words into a
sentence, but he didn’t know what to say to the one he had been waiting for all
along. Gently, he drifted down from the roof, wavering uneasily on his burned
wing.
“Hi there,” you waved, heart fluttering in
your chest. He was here. This was him. With blonde curly hair and sad, broken
blue eyes. “I’m…I’m (Y/N).”
“Warren,” he replied, stepping closer slowly.
Your necklaces got warmer and warmer until suddenly, they latched together like
magnets, two halves of a heart.
“Warren.” You repeated. You loved the sound
of his name on your tongue. “Do you…would you mind if I healed you?”
“You can do that?”
“I’m not exactly normal. I’m a mutant too.”
“Good.” he smirked, taking a step closer. You
were inches apart, his warmth radiating onto you. When he couldn’t take it
anymore, he pulled you close. You wrapped your arms around his torso, pressing
your hands to his back. Healing chills ran through him, closing up all of his
cuts and scars, bruises fading to nothing. His burned tissue healed. The
tattered feathers fell off, replaced with new ones. He kissed your temple, one
hand holding your back and the other brushing your cheek.
“Where are you from?”
“I go to a school for mutants. It’s safe
there. Come with me.”
“Okay,” he nodded, his eyes meeting yours. He
couldn’t help but smile. He tilted his head down and pressed his lips to yours gently.
Your lips moved in sync with his. He tasted like vodka. You smiled against his
mouth, hands traveling up to his golden curls as his large wings surrounded you
like a warm feathery cocoon.
He pulled away, resting his forehead on
yours. His breath was a ghost on your skin.
“Thank you. For everything.” he whispered,
kissing your nose.
“No problem.” you smiled softly. “We better
get back. My professor probably doesn’t know I left, but he’ll notice.”
“We can get there in plenty of time.” he
chuckled, sweeping you off of your feet and into his arms in one swift
movement. He peppered a dozen kisses to your cheeks and forehead. You laughed,
poking him playfully. Warren’s wings rose and fell, lifting the pair of you off
of the ground and out of the barn.
x Female Reader Summary: It hasn’t been easy for Warren to let you in or even talk about the fact that it’s so hard for him, but after he has an accident while you clean his wings, everything comes up to the surface. Rating: MA (Explicit) Warnings: Explicit sex scenes (wing kink?, some shades of submissive Warren) A/N: Oh boy! This one really got angsty when I was halfway through writing it. If you like it tell me, because I think there’s a lot of potential for a second part. I’d like to dedicate this to @shayara, who inspired me to write for Warren just by being so in love with him.
“Warren, for the love of God, let me do it.”
“I can do it myself, [Y/N]. I don’t need help, I’ve been doing this since long before meeting you.” You sigh, holding back your tongue. You know why he’s being so difficult, and even though sometimes you just want to flip him off and get out of there– you can’t do it, because you know the reason behind his attitude.
“Warren, you’re pushing me away again.” You say softly from behind him, and he sighs and lowers his head in shame. He rubs his forehead and takes a deep breath before speaking again.
“I’m sorry. It’s like I just– I forget I’m talking to you, and those responses just come out automatically.” He doesn’t even turn to look at you so he doesn’t notice you walking towards him– and that’s why he whispers something to himself that you know you weren’t supposed to hear.
“I don’t understand how you can love me.” He mumbles and you wrap your arms around him from behind, feeling him tensing up immediately.
He knows you heard him.
“I love you because you let me see who you are, behind this… brick wall you’ve built around yourself.” You kiss his shoulder and his wings fall down– and you know he’s more relaxed now. “How was I not supposed to fall in love with you after that?” He unwraps your arms from his waist and turns around, enveloping you in his wings.
“I don’t want to push you away. I want you to see and know everything about me, but I just– I can’t. I don’t know how to fix it.” He confesses and rests his forehead on your shoulder. You rub his back and kiss his cheek.
“You can start by letting me clean your wings for once. I know you can do it, but it makes you really tired and it will be easier for me. Can you do that?”
Word Count: 6.5K+ Pairing: Warren Worthington III x Female Reader Summary: After the night Warren gave himself to you completely, you both have to deal with the aftermath of everything that’s been said and done. Rating: MA (Explicit) Warnings: Explicit sex scenes (slightly bossy but definitely submissive Warren). A/N: I started writing this yesterday and I finished it today because I kinda couldn’t stop writing it once I got into it. If you haven’t read I didn’t mean to please do before reading this!
It is the warmth and brightness of the sunlight coming through the window that finally wakes Warren up from his sleep. He groans a little and closes his eyes tightly– trying to no avail to fall asleep again. He buries the side of his face further into the impossibly comfortable surface he was sleeping on but it isn’t until he feels a hand running through his hair that he finally realizes where he is.
He opens his eyes and blinks once, twice, until his vision is focused. He recognizes your chest as the comfortable pillow he’d been using all night and when he looks up and finds you smiling softly at him as you caress his head, all the memories from the previous night come flooding back to him.
“Good morning, angel.” You say softly, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.
“G’morning.” He manages to reply, feeling a little overwhelmed by his emotions.
Toad's Cave 