#so im very soft for the xmcu

[icepun]

im honestly super excited to see more xmcu blogs and!!! it reminds me that i need to write out my movie verse for bobby cause it's a little different and more comic compliant but not much.

[freakvampire]

Sweet, Sweet Nothings

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Rating: sfw / T

Word Count: 1200

Warning(s): only rated T for the fuck word

i wrote this with reader being gender neutral because warren is a bi legend, and it's vague enough that it can be xmcu warren or comics warren, and it's not proof read because im lazy

this is basically just a bunch of toothachingly sweet & soft fluff for @kurt-nightcrawler !

“Hey baby!” Warren called, kicking his shoes off. You called back, and he kept talking, “Sorry I’m late! Scott and Bobby and I were hanging out.”

“No worries. Did you guys have fun?” You smiled, craning your neck to see him from the couch one he found his way into the living room. He walked to you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Of course we had fun,” Warren lifted your legs up, sitting down and putting your legs back on his lap, his wings draped over the back of the couch, “How about you? You feeling alright?”

“My head still hurts,” you shrugged, “But you always managed to make me feel better, Warren.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled back at you, and it was warm, and loving, and you couldn't help but sit up so you could curl up against him. He wrapped an arm around you, kissing your head again.

“You're so warm,” you hummed, hiding your face in his shirt. It was such soft fabric, and Warren smelled like clean laundry, and cologne, and whatever product he put in his hair. It was comforting.

Warren’s thumb rubbed slow circles on your skin, and he tucked his face against your hair, “I love you, you know that?”

“You keep reminding me,” you looked up to see his face, grinning as he kissed you again, “I love you too, cherub.”

He laughed a little at the nickname, a sweet pet name you had that had started as a joke. Originally making fun of him, the name quickly morphed into one of endearment, and it warmed his heart to hear you say it. It warmed his heart when you called him anything, or spoke to him, or even looked at him— you made him feel loved, and he loved you.

“You want me to make you something to eat?” He asked, his hand moving to instead play with your hair. You closed your eyes, deciding you deserved the soothing feeling.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said, “I ate earlier. You're a sweetheart, you know that?”

“Oh, only for you,” Warren laughed a little, and it was lovely to hear. You were happy he was happy, “You make me a hopelessly romantic sappy lover boy.”

You nodded, kissing his neck gingerly, “And you're my hopelessly romantic sappy lover boy, you oversized pigeon.”

“I can't say it enough, (Y/N),” he shifted to wrap both of his arms around you, cuddling closer to you, “I love you. I love you so much.”

“And I love you so much,” you repeated, “You wanna put on a movie? I think we should just lay around and be lazy for the rest of the day. You don't get enough down time, cherub.”

“Would you mind grabbing the IcyHot?” He stood up, ruffling your hair as he did so, “I’ll put something on.”

“Are you gonna make me watch Blues Brothers again?” You whined playfully, standing up after him.

“It's a classic, alright? The Penguin, Cab Calloway, Arethra Franklin, the writing, the cinematography, you gotta love it, babe,” he put his hand over his heart, feigning offense, and then let you disappear from the living room after giving him a kiss.

You opened the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, snagging the tube of IcyHot. It was folded and smashed from someone squeezing the cream out with a fist, rather than flattening it. Someone, being Warren. As you made your way back to the living room, you smoothed over the tube, restoring it to something usable.

“I’m gonna make a pot of coffee, does that happen to fit your fancy?” Warren caught your attention, standing in the kitchen, leaning against the countertop. You could already hear the hum of the coffee maker.

“If we still have the nice creamer,” you nodded, a smiling painting your face when Warren held up the plastic container and shook it to let you know there was, in fact, creamer.

“C’mere,” Warren opened his arms, pulling you against his body once you stepped close enough, “I love you.”

“I love you,” you repeated, one hand snaking you to hold Warren’s face as you kissed his cheek, “How’s your back?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” he shrugged, starting to sway side to side with you, “My back is sore and my shoulders hurt like a motherfucker.”

“I really think you should start doing yoga and walking more often. I know you've got these massive wings, but if they're just gonna make you sore, you should chill,” you closed your eyes as he buried his fingers in your hair, brushing through it carefully.

He rested his face against your head again and said, “What’s the point of having wings if you don't show off? If you do yoga with me, I’ll do yoga, but it’s not like I’m flying more often than I should.”

“I guarantee you that that’s a lie,” you backed away to take two mugs out of the cabinet— the one Warren always used, and your favourite— and set them beside of coffee maker.

“Ridiculous,” Warren waved his hand dismissively, taking the pot to pour coffee into the waiting mugs, “I’ve never once lied in my life. I’m a perfect man, who has never done anything wrong. You wouldn't be uselessly in love with me otherwise.”

“Uselessly?” You repeated, taking the creamer he had busted picked up to help yourself first, “Watch it, cherub, I’ll show you useless.”

Warren’s light laughter filled the room, enveloping the two of you in a sense of warmth you didn't often feel. The domesticity of making coffee together, of just standing around in the kitchen, was something beautiful. To be so close to him, and have him so close to you, like nothing could ever be wrong with the world, not while you were like this.

By the time Warren sat down on the couch, coffee in hand, his shirt was already off. He had his wings as far out of the way as possible so you had access to his shoulders. With the Blues Brothers playing on the tv, and Warren leaning forward with his eyes closed, you wordlessly started to massage the IcyHot into his skin.

“I owe you one,” he grunted, letting himself be gingerly pushed forward now and again by your thumbs.

“You say that every time, I’m gonna cash in one day and you’ll have to take me on a luxury tour of European landmarks,” you joked, eyes glancing to the TV once you got yourself into a rhythm.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence, laughing with the movie, making small comments to each other. Once you were done slathering him in IcyHot, Warren leaned against your shoulder. You welcomed it, in turn leaning against him.

“I love you,” you whispered, taking Warren’s hand to hold and rubbing the back of it with your thumb, “I’m glad we can just… sit around like this.”

Warren took a deep breath, but he didn't move, or speak very quickly. He was relaxed. He was happy. He wanted the moment to never end. He looked up at you, “It’s nice, isn't it? I’m glad you're here to sit around with me.”