Can you do a Warren X Reader where your this shy, quiet person and the teacher
makes you and Warren partners for everything in class for the rest of the year.
As you two work together you start to open up and he finds out how much badass
and heavy metal lover you are.
Aww yisss! I had a gr8 idea for this a long time ago, and I’m so glad it fits
into the prompt omg. I made up a fictional rocker for this, so if you don’t
know what I’m talking about when we get there, that’s why.
You were pink pastels and flower crowns,
pretty skirts and frilly lace. Warren was spikes and leather jackets, heavy
boots and motorcycles, and most importantly rock music. You always heard Warren
blasting the music in his dorm, so loud the walls shook. Anytime you forgot
where his room was, you just followed the music like a trail of breadcrumbs.
“Warren!” you shouted over the music. Your
fist banged against the door as loud as you could. The music flicked off and the
door swung open. You pushed your large round glasses up your nose and hugged your
books tighter to your chest. “Um, are you still up for a study session, or…?”
There was a long pause, in which you realized
Warren was standing there wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants. Not even a
shirt. He was ready for bed.
“Oh yeah, yeah. Sorry. Forgot.”
“I-it’s fine.” you took a faltering step
back, the sight of this literal angel shirtless in front of you was almost too
much for your heart, causing it to race in your chest. His strong feathered
wings stretched behind him in a way similar to flexing muscles, showing off.
Not that he needed to. “Um, I can leave if it’s too late. Sorry for-”
“No!” he almost shouted when you turned to
leave, his cheeks betraying him by flushing pink. “I mean…it’s not too late if
you want to come in. Curfew isn’t for another hour, and I’ll definitely fail if
you don’t help me, so…”
“Okay,” you nodded. He stepped out of the doorway
so you could walk inside. You took a seat on his bed. He hastily began to tidy
up, pushing discarded clothes out of the way and stacking scattered records and
books. You took notice of the large ‘Cupid and the Fallen Angels’ poster hanging
on Warren’s wall. Her long hot pink hair blew in the wind, and large feathery
wings were mounted on her back. She was dressed as many rockers were, in a black
leather jacket, ripped jeans, high-heeled boots. She had a quiver full of
arrows that she sometimes fired into the crowds at her concerts, and her lips
were painted in the shape of a heart. A small smile tugged at your lips. “You
like Cupid, huh?”
“What? Oh, yeah. She’s great.” Warren
answered. “Got one of her records around here somewhere.”
“Cool.” you nodded, cracking open your
Algebra book. Warren sat beside you. Subconsciously, one of his wings came to
rest on your shoulder, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You smiled
under the weight.
“Is that okay? Sorry. I didn’t ask. It just
happens sometimes.” Warren’s wing twitched. You had never seen him so
“It’s fine.” you assured him, scooting a bit
closer. “It’s really warm.”
“I know.” he smirked, reading the book over your
shoulder. “So, I hope you can help me understand this, or I’m going to fail.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
A few days later, you sat with Warren at
lunch, joining him in the courtyard, which was surprising to say the least.
“How’d you do on the test?”
“Didn’t get it back yet.”
“How do you think you did?”
“Better than I’m used to.” he admitted. He
was fully clothed this time, but you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to
the thick muscles that lined his chest. God, Warren was something else. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” you smiled, your eyes meeting
his. “Anytime you need help, just give me a call.”
“(Y/N)!” Warren called a few days later,
swooping through the courtyard in search of you. You waved him over, both hands
high above your head. He landed in front of you, a somewhat bent paper in his
hand. It was the test.
“So? What’s the verdict?”
“I got a B!” he stated.
“I’m so sorry-”
“Sorry? That’s the best I’ve done all year!”
Warren scooped you up in his arms, engulfing you in a tight bear hug. Your feet
dangled above the ground as he practically swung you around. You had almost
never seen him smile, not like this. “I’m so happy I could kiss you.”
“Yeah?” you somewhat challenged, still
dangling above the ground in his strong arms.
“Yeah.” he set you down and leaned in, but
just before your lips met…
“(Y/N), do you vant to practice teleporting
vizh me?” Kurt asked, appearing out of thin air.
“Um, sure,” you brushed a lock of hair behind
your ear. You pressed a long, meaningful kiss to Warren’s cheek, causing his
wings to falter and his eyelids to flutter. “I’ll see you later, okay Warren?”
“Um, y-yeah. See you later.” he was in a
daze. He didn’t even care that you had left with Kurt. You had kissed him. God,
he was whipped.
“Woah dude,” Peter raised his goggles. “Do
you need to see the nurse? You look like you’re gonna pass out.”
“I’m fine. I was just…kissed by an angel.”
Peter took a bite of his Twinkie. “You’re
“Tell me about it.”
“Hey Warren,” you approached Warren at lunch
about a month later, very obviously hiding something behind your back.
“Oh hey,” he smiled that charming smile of
his that had been making more and more appearances since you found your way
into his life.
“I um…Cupid and the Fallen Angels are coming
to town, and my uncle owns the stadium they’re performing in, so…he hooked me
up with these.” you handed him a ticket and a backstage pass hanging on a lanyard.
Warren’s eyes widened and his jaw just about hit the floor.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I mean, I can’t go. I’m gonna be out
of town, but uh, Uncle Howard gave me some for the whole crew, so you won’t be
“Thank you so much,” he took your hand in
his, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You let go of his hand and wrapped your
arms around his torso, hugging him tightly.
“Don’t mention it.” you mumbled into his muscled
chest. He chuckled.
“Maybe next weekend I could…take you out for
dinner to make up for it?”
“Sure.” you nodded. “I’d like that.”
“Warren!” you knocked on his door minutes
before the crew was leaving for the concert.
“Yes?” he opened the door, already dressed in
his Cupid shirt. His fluffy Mohawk was arranged into neat curls, and his
ensemble was enhanced by his signature leather jacket.
“I…this is gonna sound weird. Can I borrow
one of your jackets? It’s an emergency.”
“Yeah, sure,” he let you into his room and
opened his closet, revealing at least ten leather jackets. He handed you one,
wrapping it around your shoulders. It was such a contrast to your usual pastel
and flowers wardrobe, but he would admit: you looked hot.
“Thank you so, so much, oh my God.” you stood
on your toes and kissed his cheek. “I owe you.”
“I don’t mean to pry, but what is it for,
“Um…I’ll tell you when it’s over.”
“O…kay…?” Warren’s eyebrows crinkled. “Oh,
and uh, thank you so much for the tickets.”
“No prob. See you later?”
“Yeah, see you later.” he stated. You winked
before walking off. He smiled, leaning against the doorway. He liked the sight
of you in his clothes. He might have to loan you his jackets more often.
“Are you ready to rock?!” you walked onto the
stage, demanding attention and channeling confidence with every step. The heavy
eyeliner and the bright pink wig you wore in all of your concerts were more
enough to throw anyone who knew you off of your scent. Yes. You were Cupid.
Being a teleporter certainly helped you make
it to shows on time no matter where they were. You didn’t work quite like Kurt.
You used portals, and therefore you could transport further than he could.
You strutted down the stage, performing all
of your songs. You spotted Warren and the others from the Mansion not too far
from the front. You had gotten them the best seats in the house. Warren was
close enough to see your face, really, truly see it. His eyebrows scrunched up,
and when you got closer, he could have sworn that was his jacket you were
But he brushed it off. You were out of town,
not a rock princess known all over the world. And besides, the (Y/N) he knew
was a shy, sweet, innocent nerd. Not a heavy metal rocker with big feathery
wings. No. Couldn’t be.
After the concert, you met up with the X-Kids
“Zhat vas incredible!” Kurt appeared in front
of you in a puff of smoke, shaking your hand. “I’ve never been to a concert
before! My name is Kurt Vagner.”
“I know, Kurt.” you smiled. Warren squinted,
taking a timid step forward. You shed the giant wings mounted on your back and
dropped your fake quiver. Lastly, you took off your pink wig and handed Warren
his jacket. All of their jaws dropped. “Thanks for loaning me the jacket,
Warren. You’re a life saver.”
“But you’re…how?!” Peter shouted.
“Teleporter, remember?” you smirked. Warren
was speechless. “I told you guys I was in a band.”
“I thought it was some hippie ukulele group.”
Warren chuckled. “But this…I could get used to this.”
“You like it?” you bit your lip and took a
step closer to him. One of his arms wrapped around your waist.
“Mmhmm.” he nodded. The other X-Kids subtly
snuck away, not wanting to interrupt your little moment.
“You know…” your voice was low. You stepped
closer so your bodies were touching. “That last song was about you. The new
“Really?” he raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Was
everything in it true?”
“Yes,” you nodded, cheeks flushing red.
“Everything?” he asked. You nodded. “Even
that you wished your curly-haired angel would kiss you until your lips went
“Well…” Warren’s hands cupped your face,
pulling you closer. “I’d say we have our work cut out for us then.”
ghostbusters - walk the moon / spirit in the sky - norman greenbaum / raise hell - dorothy / ghoster - wolf alice / medieval warfare - grimes / if you were there, beware - arctic monkeys / should i stay or should i go - the clash / aliens exist - blink-182 / thriller - michael jackson / ghostbusters (i’m not afraid) - fall out boy / superstition - stevie wonder
Peter watched you from over his comic book, pretending not to notice you practice you telekinesis on the pottery in the living room, pretending not to notice the cute way your nose crinkled in frustration.
You weren’t the best with your ability. Some would call you a ‘late bloomer’ which annoyed you to no end. You wanted to be just as good with your mutation as everyone else. You wanted to be able to go on missions and save the world. Peter knew you’d get a handle on it, well he often said as much, but he had to he was your boyfriend. You stopped levitating a potted fern when you felt a kiss to your cheek, then one to your other cheek, then one to your head, then one to your nose.
“Peter, stop!” you giggled as he sped around you planting soft kisses anywhere that was vulnerable. Peter grinned from his spot on the couch where he now sat like he hadn’t done a thing.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t do anything at all,” he said in mock innocence as he flipped through his comic book. You carefully put the fern down, Charles would surely have your head if you broke another one of his pots, and walked over to Peter who quickly pulled you into his lap. You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck as he grinned up at you, brushing your hair from your eyes. “You know, you’re gunna get me in trouble you keep accusing me of stuff,” he teased and you rolled your eyes.
I got to meet Nicholas Hoult at the Asia Pop Comic Con last Saturday (Aug 27, 2016) This still feels like a dream. He was very kind and even talked to me for like 30 seconds before this photo was taken. 😂 Meeting him was the best birthday gift ever.