#aaron warner x reader

[beqtrlz]

the lack of aaron warner fics is getting to me

[onemorechappterr]

After finishing a show/book/movie and then you look up fanfiction for that one chrarcter you’ve lowkey been crushing on this entire time and you find NOTHING <<<<<

[dahliadoses]

brat tamer!aaron warner x bratty!reader headcanons

wc: 478

request

warnings/tags: implied smut, mention of punishment (?), and aaron being overprotective and clingy. I also haven’t finished shatter me yet so read at your own discretion.

brat tamer!aaron warner who loves making you throughly use your words when you obviously can’t. Laying on his bed after an exhausting day, he has you all worked up, “I can’t understand your grunts, I’m not a mind reader.” He taunted. “So, using complete sentences.” He moves closer to you, “tell me where you want me.”

brat tamer!aaron warner who never forgets to check you before a huge event with lots of important names. He knows you like pushing him to the edge in front of people who can’t see him break. “Act right, okay? I don’t want none of your bullshit.” He says. You, being your usual aggravating self, responds, “and what if I don’t?” You leer at him. “Well, it’s your choice but,” he shifts in his perfectly tailored suit, “I wouldn’t want to see you crying all night.”

brat tamer!aaron warner who seems like he couldn’t care less about you but is actually quite caring in his own small ways. Taking off your heels after a long night right before he ruins you. Cleaning up, not only you, but the room after an even longer night, and the day after taking care of all the housework to give you more well deserved rest. The bare minimum, yes, but it’s more than people think he does for you. After all, you’re not just with him for the sex and status, right?

brat tamer!aaron warner who doesn’t let you even joke about leaving him. he’d rather lose his wealth and power than lose you. You tried joking about dumping him once and he started crying. It didn’t click until that moment that he truly cared for you, far more than you and anyone else had thought.

brat tamer!aaron warner who doesn’t care where you have sex, as long as the area is bright enough so he’s able to see all your facial expressions. You have this theory that your face alone could get him to climax. You’re pretty sure he already gets off to pictures of you, so maybe it’s not such a reach after all!

brat tamer!aaron warner who’s admiration of you is quiet. He makes sure every single one of his social media posts has a picture of you in it, he has a picture of you framed on an end table in his house, and he checks on you every other hour when you’re apart from him. It’s a bit clingy of him but you kind of like it.

brat tamer!aaron warner who’s eyes never stray away from you as long as you’re in the same room as him. Even if you’re not, sometimes he’ll follow you into other rooms, just to keep an eye on you. He’s convinced himself someone could easily kidnap you during the four minutes you spend in the bathroom, so he stands and waits outside the door. “What took you so long?” He always mutters when you get out.

a/n: this had been sitting in my drafts for a goodddd minute. I originally had like 7-10 that I was gonna post but they were so bad I could barely read them so I just wrote completely new ones. like if you think these hcs were bad just times that by 200 and you’ll get the original ones 😭

© dahliadoses 2026

reblogs and likes are appreciated! please do not copy or repost my work

[mikeyss1ut]

SHATTER ME MASTERLIST

Aaron Warner :

Punishment w/ dom!aaron & bratty!sub reader - smut

Your cussing problem hcs - smut mentioned

Kenji Kishimoto :

Brat!tamer kenji hcs - smut

[mikeyss1ut]

Warnings: smut themes, dom/sub dynamics, cussing, idk freaky shit, tiny age gap (3 years), spanking, fluff themes at end

Paring: dom!aaron warner x sub!fem!bratty reader

Synopsis: reader gets a little talking too from Aaron after bratting about.

Notes: not accurate to the book, it’s after Anderson is dead and the reestablishment is over thrown. Delalieu is also alive. Yall have phones and social medias a thing. Not proofreading.

You were in you and Aaron’s bedroom when Delalieu knocked, and proceeded to come in when you told him too.

This was the first sign.

“Mr’s Warner, he called me up to get you. He’s waiting for you in his office.” His voice came out shy.

That was the second sign.

And the third sign was that Aaron sent Delalieu up, he didn’t come up himself.

You already knew he was probably a little irritated with you because of these already extremely apparent reasons. You mumble an okay before stumbling out of the bed and to the elevator.

You step in, place your fingerprint on the keypad and type in what floor you want to go too. You punch in 3 and watch the doors close.

As the elevator moves lower and lower, you wonder what you did. You also wonder if you remembered the right number for his office. He just recently had a new ginormous house built for you and him.

Five floors. Floor one was the living room, activity rooms, the library, multiple studies and guest bedrooms. The second floor has some rooms saved for future children, it also has the laundry room. And office rooms for meetings , and history rooms. Your not entirely sure what the proper words are, that’s Aaron’s thing. Not yours. And the third floor, the one you’re pretty sure has Aaron’s office. It also has his gym, his artillery more office rooms and more studies. The fourth floor has dining room, kitchen, hangout areas, other things. And the last floor has your guys room which your fingerprint is required to access because the whole floor is your guys room. Including his closet and yours. There is also two bathrooms on each floor.

When the elevator doors open and reveal the floor you know has Aaron’s office on it your relieved you remembered. You walk down the hallway till Aaron’s office door is in front of you. When you open it and step in, he immediately looks up from his desk.

“Hi, love.” He says, already standing up from his chair to walk closer to you. You move forward as well until you both are only two feet away from each other.

“Hi, Aaron.” You pout. “What’d I do?”

He smiles, shakes his head and laughs. “You know you’re in trouble huh? Did Delalieu tell you?”

“What no he didn’t tell me- I just guessed. But why does he know?”

He grins. “Well because when I found out around 8 hours ago, he was in the room when I was extraordinarily angry about it and he heard all about it.” He says this while smiling at you.

You instantly whine, “Aaron stop! No you didn’t tell him! That’s so embarrassing! But what did I even do?” You drag out your words to annoy him even more.

His jaw clenches, “Do you really not know?” His jawline is especially sharp as he says this, sucking his tounge at the roof of his mouth hard.

“No! What did I do?” You say, stomping your feet. One of your more annoying habits. Aaron hates it. Mainly because to him it’s very disrespectful. It shows disrespect towards him. He doesn’t tolerate it. Especially not from you, because you’re the only person he cares about disrespecting him.

If a soldier or fellow political leader disrespects him. He doesn’t have that. Not because he cares about their opinion but because he’s still never gonna take disrespect and look weak. A soldier will be killed or injured if they disrespect Aaron. And a fellow political leader will be at war with Aaron and probably replaced. But again, not because he cares what they think. To show dominance.

But he cares if you disrespect him. Because he’s cares what you think.

“If you stop stomping your feet that’ll tell me you’re ready for a real talk. I’ll wait until then.” He says it calmly , but you know him well enough to know he’s not calm by his face.

You instantly stop pouting and fix your posture “okay sorry, go on. What did I do?”

“Where were you yesterday when you told me you were with Alia?” You choke when he says this. You honestly had forgotten. You know he already knew the answer. He’s just asking because he wants to hear you say it.

Still you lie. “W-what? I- I was with her.” As soon as you say it, you knew you choose the wrong choice. You should’ve come out with it. He looks more mad now.

“Don’t lie to me. You know I can tell you’re lying.” He says, still eerily calm.

“I- okay. I was with Lily.” You say looking up at him apologetically.

“And what were you doing with lily?”

“Hanging out with her.”

He responds instantly, “Y/n.”

“Okay, okay… we went to a club.” You reply, looking down at your hands and fidgeting with them. You’re 19, not even legal to drink. And even if you were? Aaron doesn’t want you to drink unless it’s with him present.

He makes a sound like ‘mm’ before saying, “And did you drink?”

“Yes, I did.” You whisper

“Thank you for being honest. Now how did you get in the club?” He says, lifting your chin making you look at him.

You put it back down instantly, and he sighs but lets you. “I used a fake ID that lily gave me. She had it made. I don’t know where though, don’t get mad at her though please.”

He leaves no silence after you finish your sentence, “I’m not angry with her, irritated yes. But I’m actually more upset at you. You lied to me. You lied because you knew if you told me the truth, I wouldn’t have let you gone. You also took the fake form of identification and used it. You could have said no, you let it happen. If you just went to the club, I would’ve been fine. I’d be a little upset because of the ID but that’s all. It’s the fact that you went, drank, used a fake ID and then tried to lie. To me?”

You bite back, “It’s not my fault you don’t like drinking because of you know who. There’s nothing wrong with me drinking, you’re just dramatic. You act like a helicopter parent. And you’re not even my dad!” You spit

He freezes. “What? You thought that was cute?That was disrespectful, again.” He pulls you by your hips into him.

You grunt when he does, you knew that was a bad response but you didn’t care.

“Bend over my desk.” He leans down and says in your ear while turning you around to face the desk.

You whine but bend over it fast. He rubs your ass through your pants. “You okay?” He checks in quickly.

You nod your head against the desk top. He sees and continues talking. “One for the ID, one for the lying, one for the drinking.” He spanks you once. Twice. Three times. His hand is quick, and hard. You whine every time they collide.

“Next time what will you do differently?” He says, turning you back around to make you look at him.

“I’ll ask you before I do it. And I won’t lie to you. I’m sorry.” You say quietly.

“Thank you. I accept your apology. But for the next two days I’ll be picking your outfits.” He says, and it might sound stupid to the average person. Especially because it’s Aaron, he’d never dress you in something ugly or embarrassing. If it was a normal boy who didn’t care about fashion, they would. But Aaron won’t do that. He’ll make the outfit nice.

So why’s that a punishment? Because you dress differently. You don’t like his basic to you, precise, put together style. You like what you were. You like picking out your clothes. Right now, you’re wearing a blue & black horizontal striped off-the-shoulder sweater. Then you’re wearing jeans that flare out a little at the end, with a dark blue belt to match your sweater. And a pair of cute black boots.

It’s not that he hates how you dress, he just likes what he puts you in better. He like’s basic but not simple clothes on you. Stuff that’s professional but also suits you. Sundresses, jackets, skirts, normal jeans, not skinny, but not baggy. He likes pale purple, dark shades of orange, and light shades of green on you.

Your personal hell. You wanna stomp your feet but before you can, he says “don’t.” He knew you were about too, which would have dug you in the hole again.

You whisper ‘fine’ under your breath and try to break from his grasp, succeeding and going to walk out of his office.

“Where are you going?” His voice cuts through quickly.

“Back to the room, my punishments over isn’t it?” You sigh and cross your arms.

“Yes, but I was still talking too you. Haider called, he’s coming in town next week to visit me. Unfortunately. Please try to brainstorm things you’d like to do next week that all 3 of us could do.” He says it annoyed, this time not at you. He doesn’t hate Haider. He’d never admit it but he cares deeply about him. Truly. He does. Regardless of how he acts towards him.

You sigh, “ugh! I don’t wanna spend time with him! He’s annoying!”

“I know, love. I don’t disagree but we have to stay decent towards him. And he’s just dramatic and cares. It is deeply annoying, but we must respect his authority. He’s not below us, we will show him as such.” You know that was his way of complimenting Haider weirdly.

You roll your eyes, “okay fine. Am I free to go now?”

He looks at you for a second, “If you really wish dear, but I could use your help down here.. do you wanna help me?”

Any other day you would love to help, that’s why he asked. But you’re in a pissy mood today, especially after being corrected.

“No!” You say, turning around to leave finally.

“Alright, love.” He says, “Don’t just sit in the bed though and get in your head.” He knows you’re probably gonna go upstairs and just scroll.

You sigh, he knows you too well. You don’t respond, not going to make empty promises.

You’re definitely going to doom scroll.

[mikeyss1ut]

AARON COPING W/ UR CUSSING ADDICTION

Notes: (cause it’s not secret he hates swear words I fear 😔)

Everyone knows that Aaron hates cuss words, because of how unwise he thinks they make people sound.

Aaron rarely cusses. Honestly never. Maybe once a month on average, and most of them are probably just little “damn”s

So when he fell head over heels so in love with a girl who just lovesss her cuss words? It’s a little hard for him.. maybe.. kinda.. probably… yeah.

He just loves you so much ! 🥺

He’d never want you to use such stupid words.

But at the same time.. it is you. So he can get over it himself… butttt

He worries about how it makes you look to other people when your on your third fucking or shit in just one sentence, he hates it.

Just because he wants the best for you and doesn’t want anyone to think rude of you!

Cause someone thinking badly about you would kill him and then he’d probably kill the person who thought things

Brat tamer!Aaron would give you a limit of one cuss word a sentence and would punish you if you went over that . (The expectations would be: you crashing out to him about somebody else , or you crashing out on him .)

If you say the word cunt a lot that ones really gonna grind his nerves

Would def be like “Such a horrible word, love. Have you tried replacing it for something else? It bothers me a little bit.”

But then if you say “oh okay I’m sorry 😣 “ he’ll immediately be like “no it’s okay, i apologize. Come here.” And if you reply with a “shut the fuck up” he’ll also be like “fair.”

(If he’s in a mood and brat tamer!Aaron came out , then you might want to run cause he’ll do a double take.)

He’ll always ask you why you cuss like “why use such language?” , “why do you devote yourself to such less than words?” , “Love, what is it about that group of words that you just love?”

And you’ll be like “idk??” Cause .. I mean idk??

If you ever hear him cuss you’ll gasp and be like “you cussed!” And he’ll be like “I am under a lot of stress right now, sweetheart.” Or something very Aaron coded

Like I said before he tolerates cussing a lot more when it’s just you two, but if it was in public? I fear he will be saying something.

And even if it’s in private and you’ve used like 20 cuss words in a row then that’s when he can’t take it and he’ll pipe up.

“Must you talk like that?”

“Change your vocabulary, love.”

“Don’t say that, replace it.”

God he acts so old I hate him (jk kinda)

But all in all, it’s something he gets over in a second because he’s just so insanely in love with you.

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

heyy, can you do an Aaron Warner x violin player! Reader fic please, thank you<33

title: is it a love song

pairing: aaron warner x reader

synopsis: aaron watches his love play the violin and can’t seem to take his eyes off of her

warning:

a/n: I don’t know why but tumblr is saying this is mature content which it isn’t?? there’s just a bit of kissing…

taglist: @jlxvsya @runningoutofink @foreverwinter22 @officially-me @wish-i-were-heather @midiosaamor @fleuriosa @maybxlle @whatsamongus @elysianwayy77 @lovethornes @emelia07 @inmyheaddd @sweetreveriee @azysmate @anintellectualintellectual @off-to-the-r4ces @hermesenthusiast @peppapigsposts @mads-xincai

Aaron finally leaned back from being hunched over his desk. His muscles ached as they relaxed after being tense for so long. He scanned his eyes across the page, quickly skim reading it over once more.

That was enough for today. His eyes had been painted with big thick black circles from the morning and his body felt heavy. Even he admitted to himself it was time for a break, though it may have just been an excuse to see his wife.

As he roamed empty halls and graced empty rooms he wondered where she might be. Thats when he heard a soft, enchanting, familiar sound that pointed him in all the right directions. The sound of strings crying out to be heard and loved and appreciated.

He quietly smiled to himself, knowing where the sound was coming from and who exactly was playing so beautifully. He leaned against the doorframe of the music room, the one with those big glass windows, watching with a tender heart, not wanting to interrupt such an art.

Her fingers moved methodically, rhythmically across the strings, playing a heart wrenching b flat minor. It was all her passion and pain in one melody. Her eyes were fluttered shut, so deep within the music it was natural. The bow was an extension of her hand, the violin a representation of her soul.

In an understatement, she was beautiful. The way her body was bathing in moonlight, casting graceful shadows upon the floor as she moved with her bow. The way her body swayed gently with each delicate note, the music flowing through her veins, pulsating beneath her skin. The way those notes made the soul ache as they told their sorrowful story.

It was eerie and cool, and sent chills down Aaron’s spine. An uncontrollable reflex action he couldn’t ignore. He couldn’t help but stare at her. Aaron had always had a deep appreciation for music but she’d only deepened that appreciation with her sheer talent.

Mesmerised. He was mesmerised.

She finished her story, her symphony and finally opened her eyes.

She gasped softly, catching the figure at the door in her eyeline, “I didn’t see you,”

He stepped into the room, walking softly towards her, “and I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

“Stop that,” she shushed him turning around and placing her violin back in its case.

“Why?” he said, flashing my smile and dimples, wrapping his arms around from the back and pulling her gently into his chest.

She laughed, “because…”

She trailed off as he began to press sweet, gentle kisses down her jawline and trailed down to her neck.

“I’m listening love,” he whispered, urging her to carry on. But she’d long forgotten whatever it was she was going to say. All she could think about now was the tingling sensation running through her body, warm and light.

“I love you,” she told him, cupping his face in his hands.

“I love you too,” he murmured, eyes darting to the lonesome violin, “play another for me?”

“Then you’re cooking dinner,” she wagered, with a challenging flash in her eyes.

“Done,” he responded, almost immediately.

She smiled, “and the dishes,” she pushed, eyes wide and sparkling.

“That’s a given love,” Aaron replied gently.

She pressed a soft kiss on his lips, then turned to pick up her bow once more to recommence her concert.

shatter masterlist

[loverangels]

hey diva, since you're finally accepting requests can you PLEASE write anything for Aaron warner 🙏 (preferably hurt/comfort) i've been missing my wife a lot lately and there are literally no fics of him lately

aaron warner x fem!reader

You wake to the warmth of him pressed against your side, one arm thrown lazily over your waist, his fingers brushing against yours in that soft, unconscious way that makes your heart squeeze. The morning sunlight falls across the room, catching the sharp line of his jaw and the messy strands of hair that stick up no matter how much he tried to tame them last night.

He hums softly in his sleep, a low, throaty sound that makes you giggle quietly, pressing your face closer to his chest. His hand twitches and finds your hip, pulling you a little closer without even waking. You trace the line of his shoulder with your fingers, memorizing him like you always do in these quiet mornings.

“morning,” you murmur against his skin.

He stirs, eyes fluttering open, and immediately a lazy smile spreads across his face. “morning,” he murmurs back, voice still thick with sleep. He yawns, stretches, and then, as if he just remembered, his eyes widen a little. “oh. meeting today,” he says, voice turning a little rougher with that almost-adult serious tone that always makes your chest ache.

You pout playfully. “yeah, big scary meeting with your dad. You’re leaving me alone?”

He shakes his head, grinning, tugging your hair softly as if to keep you from being sad. “I’m not leaving you alone,” he says, teasing, fingers sliding along your arm. “I’ll come back. I promise. And when I do…” He leans down, brushing his lips over your temple. “You and me, breakfast in bed. And maybe a movie. Or two.”

You giggle, curling against him. “promises?”

He presses a soft kiss to the tip of your nose. “Promise. Pinky swear.”

You smile against him, feeling the warmth of the morning, the quiet happiness, the easy intimacy you share before the world intrudes. “don’t be late,” you whisper.

“I won’t,” he murmurs. He sits up slowly, careful not to disturb you too much, stretching again and reaching for the clothes he set out last night. “I’ll be back before you even realise I’m gone.”

You reach up, tugging him down for one more quick kiss. “you better be,” you murmur.

He grins, resting his forehead against yours for a brief, stolen second. “I will. you’ll see.”

And then he stands, slipping into his jacket, one hand lingering on your hip before he finally turns to leave.

When he returns from the meeting, something is already different. It’s subtle at first, he moves around the apartment like a shadow, mechanical and detached. His laughter is rare, and when he speaks to you, his voice is flat, clipped, almost guarded. He avoids sitting beside you on the couch, doesn’t reach for you in bed, and when you try to nudge his shoulder playfully or brush his hand, he flinches. Just slightly, just enough to sting.

You convince yourself it’s stress. Big meeting, his dad’s expectations, too much on his mind. You try to ignore it. You busy yourself with small tasks, keep your own routines, but every evening when you pass him in the hall and he avoids your eyes, every night when he curls at the edge of the bed, all of it chips away at your heart.

As the days pass, the coldness grows. The apartment is quieter. He eats breakfast alone. He doesn’t comment on your little jokes. He avoids small touches, small kisses, small moments that used to feel effortless. Every flinch, every pull away, every avoided glance feels like a small blade. You try to pretend it’s nothing, that it’s temporary, that he just needs time to think. But your chest twists anyway, and you feel the slow burn of being shut out by the one person who used to be your world.

You try to ignore it. You tell yourself he’s tired, that he’s stressed, that it’s temporary. But each day, the cold distance becomes harder to ignore. By the time the week is nearly over, the warmth you woke up to that morning feels like a memory from another life. You hesitate before speaking, afraid your voice will push him further away. You bite back your laughter, your teasing, your small attempts at intimacy.

And then you can’t anymore.

He’s moving around the apartment again, avoiding you, standing stiff and distant as if he’s made a wall you can’t reach. You catch him passing in the hall and reach for his arm, just a small touch.

He jerks away, eyes narrowing. “stop,” he says sharply. “stop acting like everything’s wrong.”

Your chest twists painfully. “Aaron… I know you’ve been avoiding me. I know you’ve been distant.”

He freezes, jaw tight, eyes finally meeting yours but cold, sharp. “maybe it’s because you’re making it about yourself again. Not everything revolves around you,” he says, tone clipped, carefully controlled.

The words cut deeper than anything he could yell. You blink, fight the tears, voice tight: “okay.”

You retreat to the bathroom, lock the door, and let the tears fall quietly. Every silent sob, every small trembling breath, feels like a betrayal of the warmth you shared that morning. You press your face to your hands, wishing he would come after you, even though part of you knows he won’t.

Outside that door, he leans against the wall, jaw tight, fists clenched. He can hear you. He hates himself. Every second you cry, every tear you shed, it’s because of him. He thought he was protecting you, keeping you safe, but all he’s done is hurt the one person he promised he’d never hurt.

A week passes like this. You move through the apartment quietly, polite, careful not to press him further. He flinches at your touch, dodges your kisses, pulls back in bed. Every time you try to connect, he slips away like water through your fingers.

And then he can’t take it anymore.

He finds you on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the city lights. “can we talk?” he asks, voice low, hesitant.

You shrug without looking at him. “If it’s to tell me I’m wrong, I don’t need it.”

“I’m not here to do that,” he says. “I just… I can’t stand seeing you like this. I can’t keep letting you hurt because of me.”

You finally turn, red-rimmed eyes meeting his. “you already have. you were mean aaron,” you whisper, voice wobbling

He swallows, voice trembling. “I know. I’m sorry. I never… I never wanted to do this to you.”

You take a shaky step closer. “then stop,” you whisper. “don’t you dare decide for me what’s safe.”

He closes the distance slowly, carefully, hands trembling as they reach for you. “I won’t. I promise I won’t ever do this again,” he murmurs, voice cracking. “I’ll spend forever making up for it if you let me.”

You don’t speak, just let him hold you. He presses his forehead to yours, and you can feel the tension slowly unraveling, the tightness in his chest. He murmurs your name over and over, apologizing quietly, gently, and you press your cheek to his chest, letting yourself cry into him, letting the hurt and fear and longing and love pour out.

He carries you inside, tucking a blanket around both of you on the couch, bringing you water, fussing over you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear again. Every small gesture is careful, deliberate, full of apology.

Hours pass in murmurs, soft whispers, your hands brushing his arms, his fingers lightly holding yours. You talk quietly about the past week, about how much it hurt, about the fear and confusion. And then, finally, exhausted and still trembling, you fall asleep against him. He holds you close, forehead pressed to yours, murmuring your name and apologies until sleep finally claims him too.

For the first time in a week, it feels like it’s just the two of you again. Safe, quiet, and together.