seventies queen

Flower Child

Originally posted by saberghatz

Warren Worthington III x Reader

Flower Child

Author: Morgan

Prompt(s): “I absolutely love all your warren fics! I was hoping you could do a warren x reader where they’ve been best friends since childhood and one day warren just says ‘holy shit I’m in love with them’ moment but warren is scared because he doesn’t want to lose the reader’s friendship but the reader is in love with him too and feels the same way.” and “Um hi! I was wondering if you could write a request where the reader has a bad day and breaks down in front of Warren Worthington, and he comforts them and cuddles them and stuff until they calm down? Thank you so much both of your guys’ writing is amazing!”

Note: I, as previously stated several times, am a ho for soulmate au’s. Therefore, the following fic will be a soulmate fic, and will also probably end up much longer than I intended to write it. Also, let’s pretend you and Warren both live in the suburbs.

Warnings: Language

Seven days until your birthday. Seven days until your soulmate’s name would finally be etched onto your arm. Seven days. A week. God, you were scared. Terrified. And yes, you supposed his name could appear sooner, but it hadn’t yet, and unless his birthday occurred before yours, it wouldn’t happen.

You liked to imagine what he’d be like, but you always came up empty, or your thoughts wandered off to someone else. You shoved those images out of your head. No. Stop. You can’t keep dreaming of him, not when you know it’s not meant to be. It won’t be him.

There was a knock on your window. You turned around. Warren. A smile found your lips and you opened it up.

“Hey there,”

“Hey,” he crouched through the window. His large feathery wings were a tight fit. They always were. You chuckled, pulling him through. He stumbled forward, looking down at you. Warren was dressed in his all-black ensemble. It was hot.

When you and Warren went out in public, you got the weirdest looks. Not just because of his wings, but because he wore all black and leather jackets and Metallica shirts and you were completely the opposite. You were a flower child, left over from the seventies. A pastel fairy queen in a world full of neon. And Warren couldn’t get enough of it.

As for your powers, you controlled plants. Flowers bloomed at your touch and vines sprouted from seemingly nowhere. Because of it, your room looked more like a garden, what with vines and flower pots and small trees everywhere. It was a nice break, Warren decided. It was refreshing, his little oasis in a desert of pain.

“How are you holding up, flower child?” Warren took a seat on your bed. You sighed, managing a shrug.

“Not so well.”


“Terrified.” you nodded.


“You know why.” you held up your wrist before slumping onto your bed beside him. He looked at you with empathy, leaning back on his arms. His wings stretched up into the air. You smiled a little, captivated by their mesmerizing movement. Warren scooped you up in his muscular arms, pulling you to his chest. His wings wrapped around the both of you, a shield from the world.

“I have known you since we were five years old.” Warren whispered. You nodded, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Tears streamed down your cheeks, dripping onto his skin. He held you tighter, shushing you gently. “You are a fantastic, amazing, beautiful person, and if your soulmate can’t see that, he or she doesn’t deserve you.”

“You mean it?”

“I do.”

“Thanks.” you sniffled. “I needed that.”

“I know.” he smirked. “You’re turning me into a softie. You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” you managed to laugh. Warren stared at the ceiling of your room. His heart raced as he finally acknowledged the thought that had been haunting him since the two of you were twelve. He was in love with you. It wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t a stage. He knew in his heart that if he wasn’t your soulmate, there was truly something wrong with the world. He might never be the same if he lost you.


You stood on the back lawn of the Worthington household six nights later. Tomorrow was your birthday and you were anything but ready. You looked up at the balcony outside Warren’s room. After mustering up the courage and wiping away most of your tears, you focused your energy on creating a sapling. The small tree emerged from the ground, one of the branches settling under your legs for support as it grew to the height of the balcony, becoming a large, healthy apple tree.

You hopped off of the branch and walked to the door, knocking a few times. It was late. Warren was asleep, you knew that much. There was rustling around, a small crash, a stumble, and finally the door opened, revealing a very sleep Warren. His wings were drooping, his eyes were half-closed, and his golden curls made a messy halo on his head. He was shirtless, and a pair of grey sweatpants hung loosely from his hips.

“Has that tree always been there?” he asked, pointing tiredly behind you. You shook your head before rushing into his arms. “Hey, hey, shhh, what’s wrong?” he held you tight, rubbing your back as your shoulders shook with sobs.

“I’m so scared.” you whispered, clinging to Warren as though if you let go of him for even a second he would vanish.

“It’s okay.” he spoke softly. “It’s gonna be fine. Whoever they are, your soulmate, they’ll love you. No matter what.” Warren didn’t let the pain he was feeling show. He was just as scared as you. He didn’t want to lose you. The thought of it made him sick to his stomach. You were the only thing in this damn world that made sense to him. You were the only thing worth protecting.

“What if…Warren…” you trailed off. You had no idea how to tell your best friend that you were in love with him on the night before you were supposed to find your soulmate.

“I know.” he nodded. One of his hands cupped your jaw. He pulled your face to his, pressing a long kiss to your forehead. “I know.” he paused, taking a huge breath. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” you admitted. “But what if…”

“I know.” he stated, his eyes meeting yours. “We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” you nodded. “I…I just I needed to see you before I know. You know?”

“I know.” He closed his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder. “I’m glad you came.”

“So am I.”


You sat up in bed the next morning almost afraid to look at your forearm. You could feel it tingling as the letters etched themselves into your skin. Your heart raced. Finally mustering the courage, you looked at the newly-formed words. Written in your skin in his messy, messy handwriting was ‘Warren Worthington III’.

“HOLY SHIT!” you ripped the covers off of your bed and got dressed as fast as you could. “OH MY GOD!!!”

“You okay in there, hun?” your mother asked with a knowing smile. What she didn’t say was that Warren had been waiting downstairs for twenty minutes, your name written neatly on his arm.  

“Yep! I’ll be out in a second!” you promised. You put your hair up, pulled on your favorite outfit and raced down the stairs, crashing right into Warren and nearly knocking him over. He laughed, embracing you. He pulled up the sleeve of his leather jacket, showing you your name on his arm. You showed him his name on yours. He held it in disbelief, running his calloused fingers over the letters carefully. There were tears running down his cheeks. Tears of relief. He fell to his knees, unable to stand.

“It’s you.” you stated, kneeling in front of him. “It’s always been you.”

Your hands cupped his face, thumbs wiping at the tears. Warren smiled, pulling you into his arms, and for the first time, he finally pressed his lips to yours. It was a gentle kiss, sweet. His pink lips were so, so soft and warm and welcoming.

“I love you so, so much.” Warren pressed innumerable kisses to your cheeks and forehead. “Happy birthday.”


Later, you sat on the hill outside of town watching the sunset. A silver pair of wings dangled around your neck on a chain. Your birthday present from Warren. You loved it more than you could describe.

“I feel like I always kind of knew.” Warren’s arms tightened around your waist. You leaned back into his chest.


“Yeah.” he nodded. “You’re the only one that makes me feel like I’m not a freak.”

“You’re not a freak.” you stated. A smile tugged at your lips as you pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You’re an angel.”

“I love you, flower child.”

“I love you too.” you sighed, watching the oranges and pinks paint the sky like a dazzling mural. Warren leaned back against the tree, pulling you closer as his wings surrounded you.

“Has this tree always been here?”

“Nope.” you laughed. “No it hasn’t.”

“I feel like I’m gonna have to get used to that.”

“Yes. Yes you are.”