X-Men Imagines

8| Warren Worthington III - Mixed World

"Can you do one that takes place after Apocalypse and the love interest is Peter or Warren and the main reader is a siren and she always love to sing or play the piano?"

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After the devastating storm that had disrupted the oceans, the elders had decided to send someone on land to figure out what had happened. You had volunteered. You were young, fast and prudent. They trusted you. They gave you a week.

When you reached the shore, it did not take you long to find the place where it had happened. The thick scent of blood lured you there. You had not known what you were going to find. Most of the times, when you smelt blood, you always arrived too late. Sharks had come before you or the corpse was already sinking at the bottom of the ocean. Here, it was different: no sharks or water to kill them. You were hoping to be able to help someone. And you did. You had not believed it when you had found him barely breathing, bleeding from numerous burns on his body.

You had dragged him with difficulty into a house near the place you had found him and had tended to his wounds for two days before he woke up.

At first, you had not expected him to get better. He had been badly injured: a big gash on his head, two on the chest and so many burns you had been afraid you would not find enough seaweed to concoct a remedy for all of it. For a time, you even believed he was in a coma. But he finally regained consciousness. When he first opened his eyes, he was still delirious from his fever and talking gibberish. You kept taking care of him and feeding him the best you could. You stayed most of the days lying by his side, regulating his body temperature with your own. Your body was used to heat or cool quickly to survive to the extreme temperatures of the ocean. You had never thought it would come in handy on land. But it did, so you stayed by his side. You sang to him too. You loved to sing and you believed it soothed him. It was on the fourth day that he fully regained consciousness. You had hurried up to his side, giving him water to drink before talking. His voice was husky when he muttered:

"Who are you?"

His eyes were scanning the room, trying to understand where he was. You did not move, afraid he would try to run off, and answered calmly:

"My name is (Y/N)."

His eyes fell down on you again and you realized anger, fear and pain were fighting a battle inside of him. You tried to give him more water to drink but he flinched. The sudden fear got replaced by anger and he groaned in pain as he tried to sit down. His wounds were just starting to heal and sudden movements were bound to hurt like hell. You glimpsed red staining his bandages and frowned: you would have to stitch him up again. You were glad he did not need any more seaweed patches for his burns, you would not have been happy about him ripping them off, not after the long time it took you to make them. His burns were totally healed though and you were proud of yourself. However, seeing him awake in front of you made you reconsider it. He had looked peaceful in his sleep but awake, he looked fearsome and harsh. You wanted to help people but maybe you had helped the wrong person.

"Why am I here?" He asked suspiciously.

He was looking at you as if you had kidnapped him and you realized he would probably have fought his way out of here if he had been able to.

"I brought you here, to treat you." You stated, gesturing at the bandages across his naked chest. Lowering his eyes, he finally seemed to notice it. His face relaxed and you added: "I found you half dead in the street, burns everywhere."

When he laid his eyes on you again, no hostility was left in it but you could sense he was still on his guard.

"Did you find someone else?" A spark of hope replaced the suspicion in his eyes and you wondered who he was thinking about.