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littlemissmentallyunstable · 7 months ago

Text

title: fix you

pairing: aaron warner x (first person) reader

synopsis: aaron returns from a meeting with his father, but something is off… (prior to the ignite me tattoo btw)

warnings: mentions of abuse, a bit suggestive at the end ;)

a/n: first aaron warner fic ever… thanks for reading 🤍🤍

tag list: @wish-i-were-heather @midiosaamor @sweetlikeanangel @maybxlle @whatsamongus @elysianwayy77 @bewitchingkisses @emelia07 @inmyheaddd @sweetreveriee @azysmate @anintellectualintellectual @off-to-the-r4ces

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

shatter me masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#aaron warner #aaron warner x reader #aaron warner x you #aaron warner one shot #shatter me #tahereh mafi #juliette ferrars #nazeera ibrahim #kenji kishimoto #unravel me #ignite me #restore me #defy me #imagine me

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lqveharrington · 3 months ago

Note

Can I request an Aaron Warner fic with Don’t Blame Me and/or Gorgeous? I feel like he’s so Reputation coded.

Gorgeous | A.W.

summary: you come home drunk and find yourself fixated on aaron (as usual)

pairing: aaron warner x fem!reader

includes: intoxication, fluff, kissing, warner and reader being so in love

a/n: this is my favorite taylor swift song of all time 🩷 i also agree, he is reputation coded

When you told Warner you were going have a girls night with the twins, Nazeera, and Juliette, he didn’t think you would get too drunk. Yes, he wanted you to have an amazing time with your friends, but you both knew you were lightweight. If you drank any form of whiskey — hell, even the slightest bit of champagne — you were in for a night.

You would have the worst possible hangover known to man and it was surely a sight to witness. Luck for you, Warner was always there to take care of you. He would never complain about helping you into comfortable clothes or helping with the morning headache. In fact, he found it amusing whenever you got too drunk.

Especially since you were a clingy, honest, and stubborn drunk.

The faded light from the stars and moon cascaded into the living room when the doorbell rang out. Warner took one glance at the clock and shut his book, making his way toward the manor's front door. He stayed up waiting for you to come home and it was already one in the morning. Never would he expect you to stay out that late.

Running his fingers through his hair, he slowly pulled the door open only to be surprised by Sonya and Sara carrying you with their shoulders, nodding to whatever you were babbling about. Warner opened his mouth to talk before you finally realized where you were, your eyes lighting up to the sight of your loving boyfriend.

"Aaron!" You meet his ocean-blue eyes and stumble into his arms, erupting in giggles when he caught you. Tilting your head to the side, you sighed softly and scanned his facial features, mentally noting any change you haven't noticed before. "You look so gorgeous!"

"Hi, love." Warner furrowed his brows and kept a steady hand on your back, shifting his attention to the twins standing in front of him with a flustered expression. "How drunk did she get?"

"It's not our fault, Warner." Sara wringed her hands together and pursed her lips, trying to figure out how to explain how drunk you got. "She — er — kept buying shots because Nazeera made a bet she could drink more." She confessed and handed the blonde your leather clutch, biting back a laugh when you kept poking his cheek like a child. "She didn't win."

"Clearly." Sonya hid her own laughter when Warner gently pushed your hand away, making you pout and cross your arms. "Anyway, we're just here to drop her off since she can't walk straight without rolling her ankle."

Your eyes instantly found Warner's jade ring and — once again — you were entranced with something new. The girls raised their brows at how fast you could fixate on something, but they weren't surprised whatsoever.

Sonya shook her head, "She almost twisted her ankle making it up the pathway—"

"Girls, isn't he so gorgeous!" You cut her off and squish Warner's cheeks in your hands, eyes glazed with adoration and alcohol.

The twins shook their head, knowing it was time to leave. They nodded to Warner before turning to leave, linking their arms together as they walked the pathway down to the limo.

You giggled at Warner's face before finding both girls gone, making you pout and call out to them. "Wait, where are you two going?"

"We're leaving you with your boyfriend." Sonya started to walk backwards and waved to the two of you — blowing you an air kiss —which seemed to cheer you up straightaway. "Bye!"

"Bye!" You shout and use all your energy to wave with your entire arm, hiccupping as your cheeks flushed red from all the cold air. The door slowly shut and you looked up at Warner only to find him smiling oddly at you. Amusement or not, it confused you. "What?"

"Nothing." He kissed your temple and guided you through the house.

Although you made loads of progress entering the hallways, you were still walking like a baby deer — and your heels were not helping you situation. Warner waited a few beats before stopping all movements, bending down to take your heels off.

You yelp in surprise and hold onto the wall beside you, your feet warm again the cold, marble flooring. Huffing, you looked over at Warner only to see his blonde hair for a split second before he carried you bridal style. Your eyes instantly widened as he did so, manicured nails digging into his shoulder at the motion.

"Hold onto me tightly." Warner instructed and adjusted his hold on you, the black heels and leather clutch still in his hands.

Say what you want about Aaron Warner, but he was the truly a gentleman when he came to taking care of the ones he loved. It didn't matter what the situation was — he made sure you were tended to first.

Warner ascended the stairway leading up to your shared bedroom as your head began to droop and stifle yawns. You were beginning to fall into your sleepy state after being drunk for too long and Warner needed you awake a little longer. He knew you would beat yourself up if you went to bed with a full face of makeup.

"How was the night out?" He asked softly and gently tapped your hip, watching your eyes flutter open at the unexpected question.

"Super fun." You yawn and bury your head in his cashmere sweater, the familiar scent of gardenias filling your senses. "I think Juliette threw up in the bathroom, I'm not sure."

Warner furrowed his brows at your words as he pushed the door to the bedroom open. Sure, he wasn't entirely sure what your definition of fun was, but he doubted seeing one of your friends throw up in the bathroom was fun. Especially since Juliette was the other lightweight of the friend group.

"That's... fun?"

"Yes." You drawl and tilt your head backwards, giggling as you saw an upside down version of your shared space.

The golden chandelier appeared to be bolted in the ground and the bed seemed to be stuck to the ceiling — you were somehow amazed by it. But when you passed the mirror, the illusion broke, making you sigh and tilt your head back upright.

Carefully, Warner set you down onto the king-sized bed and assured your safety before heading into the walk-in closet to the right of the room. He knew where all you beloved items belonged in your half. Your heels by the drawers and your clutch on a shelf beside your extensive collection of Hermès bags.

While he left you alone for only a few seconds, you managed to: braid stray pieces of your hair together, hum a random melody that popped into your brain, and dramatically toss yourself back onto the bed in hopes of getting your boyfriend back quicker.

Which proved to work since he appeared a split-second later.

"I'm just going to agree with whatever that sigh was for." Warner entered from the left side of the room — holding a glass of water and aspirin.

Your face twisted in confusion when you realized he emerged from the master bathroom. You didn't even know he crossed over until now. Shaking your head, you pushed yourself up and sat on the edge of the bed, smiling softly at the man you loved oh-so much.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hand running up and down your arm in comfort. "Did the girls give you water to drink before coming here?"

You nodded but took a sip from the glass anyway, lips smacking to enunciate the action. Warner rolled his eyes in amusement before thumbing the strap to your dress, cocking his head to the side when you merely blinked up at him.

"You have to change into pajamas, love." He clarified and hid a smile when you fell back on the bed like you were told your best friend just caught a deadly disease. He laced a hand with yours as you whined like a child.

"Aaronnn, it took sooo long to get ready." You complain and grab the silk pillow behind you, burying your face into the front. "I don't wannnaaa."

Warner slowly pulled the pillow away from your face and sent you an unimpressed look, arms crossing when you met his eyes. You smiled cheekily — as if you forgot what you were complaining about mere seconds ago — before sitting up again. He narrowed his eyes at your sudden change in behavior, raising a brow when your smile widened.

"Can I change into your sweater? It looks really comfortable." You ask and clasp your hands together, almost begging him to allow you to wear what he was wearing.

"This?" He pinched the sweater in between his pointer and thumb, watching you nod fervently.

He wasn't sure if rewarding you for complaining was the best option, but he could use it as an incentive to get you to do other things before heading to bed. After all, you would also rope him onto the blame train about how he let you sleep with makeup on.

Warner tugged you up onto your feet again and sighed, giving into your demands. Although he made sure you couldn't get away with everything you wanted with a simple pout and big eyes.

"I'll let you wear my sweater if you go take the makeup off, brush your teeth, and use the bathroom for me."

"What — That's not fair!" You protested and stomped your foot to the ground like a brat.

Warner raised his eyebrows at you and gave you a pointed look. In your intoxicated state, he knew not to take it to heart. Yet, you were testing your limits with how bratty and child-like you were acting. He watched your front falter and instantly, he knew you folded under his fixed look.

"Fine."

Patting your hip as you walked off to the bathroom in a sluggish manner, he bit back an amused smile. Your drunken-self had a special place in his heart and if he could, he would've taken pictures of your pouting face as you went to do what he asked.

He pulled his sweater off and ran his fingers through your hair, chuckling when he heard your muffled humming. He couldn't help but peak inside the bathroom, lips turned down in a smile when he saw you leaning against the sink, using the toothbrush as a prop microphone.

"You done?" Warner interrupted your performance with small smirk, hand finding its home on the curve of your waist.

You patted your face in a towel and nodded, letting exhaustion finally take over. He led you back into the main room and ran his fingers through your hair a couple times before helping you pull yours black dress off.

"Good girl." He murmured when you easily followed his steps, letting you sit on the bed in compensation for the lack of energy.

Yawning, you rubbed your eyes before finally focusing them to the man in front of you. Maybe you truly were losing your mind to fatigue, but you didn't realize Warner was shirtless. His grey sweats were hanging low on his hips, revealing your favorite tattoo of his. Your eyes followed every muscle up until you met his eyes, your own blown wide at the lack of coverage.

"Arms up, love." He held back a smirk at your distracted state, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling the sweater over your head. Warner gently moved your hair out from under the fabric, tucking it to the side before smiling at you. "There."

You hum appreciatively and crawl over to your side of the bed, eyes shining brightly once more when he turned around to put away your dress. His back tattoo now faced you as he walked the space of the room. You mentally traced each letter on his back, letting them engrave themselves into your mind.

I G N I T E

Warner turned back around only to see your hazed look, pursing his lips together in amusement when you instantly clambered over to him as he finally joined you in bed.

Your eyes trail up his body to meet his gorgeous blue eyes, biting your bottom lip to contain your enjoyment. Even in your drunken state, you enjoyed staring at Warner no matter what. You ruffled his hair and kissed his jaw, Warner's arms encircling you.

"So so so gorgeous." You whisper and flashed your charming smile — sighing softly when he gave you a quick yet warming kiss.

"Not as stunning as you." He tangled your legs together and allowed you to trace your name into his arms, watching your eyes slowly accept their tiredness.

You yawn and nuzzle your head closer to him, tucking it under his chin. "Even when I'm drunk?"

The crackling of the fireplace took over the few seconds of silence as Warner adjusted his hold on you, kissing your forehead when he finally settled. He contemplated your words for a second. He knew he loved your either way, but watching you blink up at him expectantly made his hear swell in so much love and emotion.

"Of course." He finally answered and gave you a reassuring grin, lifting one hand to brush stray pieces of your hair away from your eyes. "I love you however you are."

"You love me?" You ask softly — as if you both haven’t said that to each other before. Your smile widens and a bright blush rises to your cheeks, not at all embarrassed at how you were acting.

Well, not until the next morning. Warner wouldn't let you forget this if you tried to block it out.

"I love you too." You whisper and make a quick glance to his lips before meeting his eyes again.

"Yeah?" He chuckled and thumbed your cheek, feeling you melt from his touch.

Warner couldn't remember what it felt like when you weren't in his life. You were the light in his dark story. Every single interaction with you made him fall harder. It didn't matter if you were sober, drunk, sleeping, reading, or even just existing. He loved you for who you were and he would do every thing keep you happy.

"Yes." You murmur and kiss his palm. "You being gorgeous was just a bonus."

"Mhm." He tugged you closer and pressed one last kiss to the top of your head, breathing you in. "Let's go to bed before hungover you gets made for staying up to late."

"You make me too happy for me to get mad." You argue but melt like putty in his arms, focusing on the steady beat of his heart. You shut your eyes and sleepily confess your love again, smiling when he held you tighter. "Love you."

"Goodnight, love."

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