I just bought the whole series with the limited edition covers at a used book store for $20. It has sent be back into a spiral.
ᝰ Kenji Kishimoto
Nonsense | @beautysamour
In which you were able to escape sector 45, but not all the people.
Only a fool for you. | @/beautysamour
Your boyfriend leaning on doorframes is one of your biggest weaknesses.
Undercover | @thelov3lybookworm
Y/n is being sent on a mission, and she’s rather be dead.
how you get the girl | @wheresmymilliondollarman
you were never fond of the newest recruit, but after being assigned on a mission with him, your perspective might just change.
My Girl. | @soulaires
kenji is drunk and absolutely have no brakes.
THAT’S MY BABY | @/soulaires
kenji and his intimidating gf
You fell in love, pretty boy? | @masivechaos
Kenji fell in love with you, but he doesn’t dare tell you.
ᝰ Aaron Warner
never go out of style | @/wheresmymilliondollarman
after a bit of convincing, you decide to let aaron join you and juliette shopping. maybe you should’ve thought twice on that.
hcs about being juliette’s sister and aaron being enamoured by you. | @/wheresmymilliondollarman
aaron warner x ferrars! reader pt. 3 | @/wheresmymilliondollarman
when omega point falls, you find yourself in need of the supreme commander’s son, and discover unresolved feelings along the way.
hold me, touch me, love me | @softtorus
Sweet Dreams | @/soulaires
Aaron loves his daughter, he really do. Hell, he would burn down the world for her but sometimes,, all he wanted was to spend one night alone with you—his beloved pretty wife.
Whiskey on ice. | @/soulaires
What’s the best thing that ever happened to you and why is it (drunk) Aaron Warner?
Here comes the sun. | @/soulaires
you were his sunshine, his light, the reason of living and his beautiful sweet girl.
Love Dilemma. | @/soulaires
in which your daughter thinks your name is ‘love’ because apparently your husband has been calling you that.
something about tahereh mafi writing the most scrumptious yearning maxxer main male characters ever written in her 834729 book long series but me still falling for the ridiculously handsome and charming side characters
something about me having two nickels if it happened twice
಄ ༉ She smiles as him, but there’s no warmth in it. Only a warning. “Men,” she says, “are always so baffled by women’s clothing. So many opinions about a body that does not belong to them. Cover up, don’t cover up” - she waves a hand- “no one can seem to decide”
಄ ༉ “you know what i think” she says, still smiling “about someone telling me what’s legal and illegal about the way i dress?” She holds up two middle fingers “go ahead, tell my dad. alert the armies. I don’t give a shit”
I hear someone stumble in and immediately panic seizes my chest. Aaron Warner doesn’t stumble, so logically it must be an intruder. But who the hell would’ve found a way into Aaron’s private quarters? I don’t care, I grab the gun from under the floor board and slowly approach the door. My heart bangs in my chest, crawling its way to my mouth. It’s so dark that I can barely see a thing. I hear a second step taken and I can tell by the way the weight is hitting the floor unevenly that it’s a shaky step. I take my chance and swiftly rush out, gun pointed towards the figure.
“You’re holding that all wrong, love,” says a dry voice.
“Aaron?” I ask, my voice catches in shock. I squint through the darkness in attempts to recognise him.
“Care to explain the gun?” he replies, eyebrows raised at my questionably aimed weapon.
“I thought you were an intruder,” I say, dropping my arms down to my side and playing the gun down.
“I am not,” Aaron tells me bluntly.
“Obviously,” I smile, attempting to touch his arm. But just as a go to clasp my hand around it, he moves.
Swiftly and almost silently, he walks past me. I feel his body brush against mine softly.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
“I need to shower,” he replies.
There’s something off about him. He stumbled in, his voice is uneven, he wants to get away from me. Something happened and I have this horrible feeling that it was something horrible.
“Are you okay?” I say, trying to seem casual.
“Fine,” he replies. His tone is blunt but cut-throat. He can tell I’m fishing for what’s really wrong and he’s making it clear he doesn’t want to talk. Unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong girl if he wants me to shut up and move on.
“Did it go okay?” I continue.
“It went how it usually did,” he tells me, his voice low.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask. I knew who his dad was and how he was treated, I knew the traumatic stories of his childhood and the bad memories that would haunt him at night, I knew I wanted to kill the man who’d given them to him. But one thing I never knew was anything to do with the meetings held with his dad.
“You know my father, love. He isn’t a pleasant man and nor are his meetings,” he says plainly, “now I’m going to wash.”
He walks towards the bathroom, flicking the light on. The brightness is fluorescent and artificial. I begin to follow him and then I see it. I stop in my tracks. Reams of crimson ribbon decorate the back of his white shirt, jagged lines of the deepest blood red. The fabric has soaked in the liquid and it’s splayed out all across the white. My stomach turns.
“Aaron…” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
“Please, love,” he sighs, running a hand through his perfect hair, “I need to shower.”
“He hurt you,” I murmured, “again?”
He freezes suddenly, realising he’s bled through his white shirt. He’s too exposed to hide it from me this time. He can’t brush it under the carpet when the stains are on the surface. He lifts his head up, back still towards me.
“Don’t,” he says harshly, his voice so low it sounds dangerous.
I don’t say a word as he walks into the bathroom, but my legs can’t help but follow even though my brain is telling them it might be a better idea to not. I step inside quietly and I can feel his body tense.
“Aaron-“
“I said don’t,” he repeats, the bitterness in his tone making me flinch.
Something that resembles anger flickers in my chest. An amber flame of fury.
“Sit down,” I say, my voice firm and unwavering.
He stills, staring down. I don’t say a word and neither does he. In the silence, the air grows heavy and thick, weighted with unspoken words. I don’t know how long we stand like this until slowly he sits down on the lid of the toilet. I wait a few beats, then slowly crouch down, level with his knees and his eyes shooting straight to the floor.
“He hurt you again, didn’t he?” I ask for the second time.
He’s silent.
“Please Aaron,” I beg, “you can’t keep doing this.”
The desperation in my tone makes his heart ache, but still he doesn’t look at me as he says, “he’s hurt me my entire life, love, today he was no different.”
“Show me,” I murmured.
“I don’t want you to see this,” he grits through his teeth, still refusing to meet my eyes.
“I don’t care,” I say, “you can’t keep shutting me out.”
“I can and I will,” he replied curtly, turning away.
“Warner,” I snap, in an attempt to get his attention.
He looks up sharply. His green eyes flicker with some sort of hurt. I never called him Warner, he was my Aaron. Warner was for everyone else, but Aaron was for me.
“Let me help you,” I say firmly, “you need to let me in like I let you in, this goes two ways.”
He stares at me saying nothing for a while. I wonder when he’s going to get up and walk out. Maybe leave completely. Forever. That thought scares me the most. Aaron shuts down when he can’t share his problems. He shuts down and shuts me out.
I am surprised when he slowly takes his shirt off, revealing his battered back. I bite back a gasp and conceal the shock and horror from being displayed on my face. Amongst the jagged scars that ripple across his back, the ones I already knew of, the ones I had once traced, there were fresh wounds. Long, distorted shapes are looping across him, oozing fresh hot blood. Great purple bruises splayed out of the sides of each lash mark, creating some sort of sick and twisted abstract art piece.
He must be in so much pain.
“It’s a shame really,” he murmurs, “I quite liked that shirt.”
I pull myself together, “you have a dozen others like it.”
“I liked that one,” he replies quietly.
“I like you without a shirt better anyways,” I grin at him.
“Well,” he says cracking a half smile, “I suppose I can spare it then.”
“I suppose you can.”
I grab a wash cloth from the cabinet above and soak it with warm water. Gently, I dab his new lashings, trying to wash them. The deep red bleeds through the white of the cloth, spreading through it, like a river of hate. With each stroke I see his face contort.
“Does this hurt?” I ask tenderly.
“I’m fine,” he replies, his voice hard.
“You’re wincing,” I say flatly.
He glares at me. It’s hot.
“I’m fine,” he states.
I drop it and continue to clean. When I am satisfied that I’ve done the best I can, I return to the cabinet and pull out antiseptic and bandages.
“Not antiseptic,” Aaron grumbles.
“Don’t be a baby,” I retort with a laugh, cutting the bandages to the right size.
“I’m not!” he says, a bit too defensively.
“I’m not letting those wounds get infected Aaron, I’m using antiseptic,” I tell him, unable to suppress my smile.
He rolls his eyes and reluctantly lets me press antiseptic into each open gash. He hisses each time, refusing to cry out so I attempt to be as quick and efficient as I can.
When I am finished, I move on the bandages. I stand in front of him and work around. Gently, I wrap the bandage over his back and torso. His hands suddenly clasp my waist, his grip is firm. I bite back a gasp. His hands are so hot I can feel them through my clothes, though in this moment I wish I didn’t have the barrier of clothes.
I try to ignore the distraction he knows he’s making. Softly and methodically I continue to bandage his back and once I make the final wrap I lean down and press my lips on his. He kisses back eagerly, pulling me onto his lap. I wrap my thighs around his hips and continue to plant tender kisses all over his mouth. I’m dizzied by the sensations of passion. We pull away finally when neither of us can think straight and his eyes lock with mine, the delicate green tainted with something I couldn’t quite place my finger on.
“How do you feel?” I ask, brushing a strand of blonde that had fallen, out of the way.
“After that,” he murmurs with a grin, “on top of the world.”
“Your back,” I deadpan.
“I don’t care about my back,” he groans, “kiss me again.”
“Aaron,” I say, my tone accusing.
“Please, love,” he begs, closing his eyes, “I’m suffering withdrawal symptoms here.”
“Aaron,” I laugh.
“Just one kiss, it won’t hurt,” he says quietly, brushing his thumb over my bottom lip. His touch so airy I almost don’t feel it.
“I’m not kissing you until you answer me,” I reply.
“You like to make my life difficult don’t you?” he sighs.
“Ditto,” I poke my tongue out.
“It’s much better now you’ve worked your magic,” he answers my question, gazing at me.
There’s a long pause, but it feels like our eyes carry on the conversation. But every time I look into those emerald voids, I feel his pain. And it makes me see red.
“He shouldn’t do this to you,” I murmur, anger lacing my tone.
“I know,” he replies.
“I hate it,” I practically growl, my face all screwed up at the thought of someone hurting Aaron. My Aaron. I hadn’t had time to get angry earlier, I’d been too worried about the wounds. Now they were clean and dressed, I have the opportunity.
“I know,” he says again.
“I want to stop it,” I tell him, then falter, “but I don’t know how.”
“I’ve been trying to work that out for a while, love,” he says, nuzzling into my collarbone.
“Just,” I pause and sigh, “please let me help you, you don’t have to hide for everyone you know.”
“It’s what I know how to do,” he murmurs, looking up, “opening up is the opposite of how I was trained to be.”
“But you’ll try?” I ask hopefully.
“I’ll do anything for you, love,” he smiles, tucking my hair behind my ear.
I smile, my cheeks glowing a soft pink.
“I love you,” he whispers with another kiss.
“I love you too,” I giggle, melting into him.
He cups my face in his hands and kisses me slowly, tenderly. The motion is long and drawn out, each millisecond testing my self control. Desperation claws at me, all I want to do is kiss him harder and faster but I stay patient. My hands find their way to the back of his neck and comfortably into his hair.
“Let’s go to bed,” he says against my lips.
“You don’t sleep until three o’clock in the morning,” I scoff.
He turns and looks at me, a twinkle in his eye and a smirk placed comfortably on his lips, “who says we’re sleeping?”
a/n: this is my first aaron warner fic and cut me some slack bc I have not read shatter me in months, I really should do another reread… but hopefully I captured the characters okay. But tbh after reading it back I kind of hate it, it feels rushed and weird but yolo so I’m posting it anyways!!
and I know what you’re thinking ‘bella you promised us the mysterious blonde part 4’… I know it is being written, it’s just really long and I want it to be perfect so there are a few little fics in between
──── ୨ৎ CHRISTMAS WITH YOU — AARON WARNER + READER ‧₊˚
a/n: hiii lovelies!! this is probs the most random fic ive ever written (im at tennis and got bored so here we are) but im in a christmas mood so expect a few xmas themed fics to come ur wayyy 🤭🤭 ALSO THE NEXT PART OF THE GRAY FIC WILL BE UP SOON!!!
aaron didn’t like holidays, okay? he really didn’t like them. the needless dressing up for halloween, the crazy amount of chocolate consumed on easter, the countdown and partying on new years. it was all just very pointless to him. christmas was his least favorite though.
he despised the horrible holiday.
the unnecessary money spent on pointless gifts that people will forget about in two weeks and the false sense of cheer and merriment that dies the second christmas is over are just some of his many reasons why he dislikes the holiday.
or maybe it was the fact that is father used to come home over christmas. he doesn’t like to dwell too much on that one.
so imagine his luck when he finds out the girl of his dreams, the love of his life is obsessed with the holiday, he's torn.
he tried. he really tried to put up with it, but at some point enough is enough and he has to leave the house, the amount of christmas decorations you have put up - which according to you is not enough but according to everyone else is a sickening amount - is driving him insane.
he loves you, but hanging tinsel inside your closet was a bit too much for him. so he escaped. to the front porch. he wasn't actually going anywhere, that's just stupid, why would he leave on christmas eve? thats basically just him begging for kenji to hunt him down and attempt to kick his ass.
so obviously he didn't leave, thats just childish.
but he did sit down on the steps of his house and rested his head in his hands. breathing in the cold fresh air. it's been snowing all day, and its only just paused, he's grateful for that. usually the only reprieve he receives is late at night when you're running your hands through his hair and murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. so this moment is nice - it would be nicer with you, but he always thinks that.
the moment's disturbed when he hears the front door open and your soft footsteps that follow.
"what are you doing out here, aaron?" your voice is soft and calming, he loves your voice, it always seems to bring him peace.
"i was just getting some fresh air," he answers and you watch the steam leave his mouth. okay yeah it's pretty cold, maybe he shouldn't have come out here in only a sweatshirt and plaid flannel plants - matching with yours - you let him because it seemed like he needed a moment. but in only pajamas? not that smart.
but damn does he look good in them.
actually you applaud yourself getting him to wear the outfit. he wasn't thrilled when you suggested matching pj's and watching christmas movies all day. but the fact he still put them on makes your heart warm.
you know he's not a fan of the christmas thing. and maybe some part of you wanted to try and get him to love it, but clearly shoving christmas-y themed things in his face wasn't the way to go.
you sit down on the step next to him and wrap the blanket you dragged out here around his shoulders.
"i'm sorry for forcing all the christmas things on you," you say resting your head on his shoulder.
"don't be, love," he says his voice low. "it's me not you, never you."
"i kinda just pushed everything onto you, though, and expected you to love it," you sigh. "i know christmas isn't your favorite holiday, so i was just trying to make it special for you, its our first christmas together i wanted it to be extra special."
"it is special," aaron answers. "its special because you're here with me. its special because you're trying to make it special for me. its special because you love me enough to try and do all this," he waves his hand back towards to the house.
you smile at that, shivering slightly from the cold. how is aaron not cold right now?
"lets head inside, love," he murmurs wrapping his arms around you and gently helping you up. "we can go watch that christmas movie i know you've been dying to watch."
"its okay," you hum as he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses the crook of your neck as you walk. "we don't have to do that."
"i want to, for you. and maybe, maybe i'll start to like christmas, but only if its with you."
