warnerxferrars - Tumblr blog

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best Aaron Warner/Shatter Me fanart I've seen and I'm not joking. I screamed when I saw Aaron HSKDJSJXKSKZKSJSKZKS

Instagram : palinlineart

tiktok: palinline

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Juliette and Aaron - Shatter Me

Artist: @artoffrostandflame (previously @virtual__bunny)

(Posted with permission)

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Shatter Me Series: Shatter Me (Book 1) Unravel Me (Book 2) Ignite Me (Book 3) Restore Me (Book 4) Defy Me (Book 5) Imagine Me (Book 6)

Shatter Me Novellas: Unite Me: Destroy Me (Book 1.5) and Fracture Me (Book 2.5) Find Me: Shadow Me (Book 3.5) and Reveal Me (Book 4.5) Believe Me (Book 6.5)

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Warner, Juliette and Kenji - Shatter Me

Artist: @/jemlin_c

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Warner and Juliette - Shatter Me

Artist: @gabi.cooley.art

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Aaron and Juliette - Shatter Me

“i want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. the one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. i want to be that kind of friend. the one who will memorize the things you say as well as the shape of your lips when you say them. i want to know every curve, every freckle, every shiver of your body. i want to know where to touch you, i want to know how to touch you. i want to know convince you to design a smile just for me. yes, i do want to be your friend. i want to be your best friend in the entire world.”

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I could do this all day. I don’t care what happened yesterday. I don’t need an explanation. None of it seems to matter anymore, not when she’s here with me. Not when her naked body is wrapped up in mine, not when she draws her hands along my skin, touching me with a tenderness that tells me everything I need to know. All I want is this. Her. Us.

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“Kenji.” “Yes?” “Thank you,” I say, still staring at Ella. “For everything.” “Anytime,” he says, his voice more subdued than before. “This is the beginning of a new chapter for all of us, man. For the whole world. This wedding is making history right now. You know that, right? Nothing is ever going to be the same.” Ella glides toward me, nearly within reach. I feel my heart pounding in my chest, happiness threatening to destroy me. I’m smiling now, smiling like the most ordinary of men, staring at the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever known. “Believe me,” I whisper. “I do.”

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“I’m going to marry you today. And then I’m going to make love to you until you can’t remember your name.” Ella makes a startled, breathless sound, her hands tightening in my shirt. She pulls me closer and kisses me, nipping my bottom lip before claiming my mouth, touching me now with a new desperation; a hunger still unmet. She presses her body against me, hard and soft soldered together, and I lose myself in it, in the intoxication of knowing just how much she wants this. Me.

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Someone rec me some good Warnette fanfiction. I am having serious withdrawals. Please and thank you!

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“I need to take you to bed, love,” I say, my voice still rough with desire. “I need hours. Days. Alone with you.” She nods, her ring catching the light as she reaches for me, collapsing against my chest. “Yes. Please. I really hope you’re not planning on falling asleep tonight.” I laugh at that, the sound still a bit shaky. “One day we’ll have a proper bed,” I say, kissing her forehead. “And then I doubt I will ever sleep again.”

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Believe Me, Chapter Eight

I straighten at a sudden sound. I turn, heart racing, at the soft shutter of the bathroom door opening. I already know it’s her. I always feel her before I can see her, and when I see her--when she opens the bathroom door and stands there, smiling at me-- My relief is so acute I reach for the wall, bracing myself against the cold tile. Ella is holding two mugs of coffee, dressed the way she often is: in a soft sweater and jeans, her dark brown hair so long now it skims her elbows. She grins at me, then disappears into the outer room, and I start to follow her, nearly slipping in my haste. I catch the doorframe to steady myself, watching as she rests the coffee mugs on a nearby table. She slips off her tennis shoes. Tugs off her socks. When she pulls her sweater over her head, I have a minor heart attack. She’s facing away from me, but her back is bare. She’s not wearing a bra. “You were sound asleep this morning,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at me as she unbuttons her jeans. “I was afraid to wake you up. I went out to get us some coffee, but the line at breakfast was really long. I’m sorry I wasn't here.” She shimmies out of her jeans then, tugging them down over her hips. She’s wearing a scrap of lace masquerading as underwear, and I watch, immobilized, as she bends over to yank off the last of the jeans, pulling her feet free. When she turns around, I’m struggling to breathe.

She’s so beautiful I can hardly look at her; I feel as if I’ve stepped into some strange dream, the debilitating fears that gripped me yesterday somehow forgotten in a moment. Heat courses through me at a dangerous speed, my mind unable to grasp what my body clearly understands. There’s so much I still need to say to her--so much I remember wanting to ask her. But when she steps out of her underwear and walks through the open bathroom door, into the shower, and then directly into my arms, I remember nothing. My brain shuts down. Her soft, naked body is pressed against every hard inch of mine, and suddenly I want nothing, nothing but this. The need is so great it actually feels like it might break me. “Hey, handsome,” she says, peering up at me. She runs her hands down my back, then lower. I can hear her smile. “You look too good in here to be all by yourself.” I can’t speak. She takes my hand, still smiling, and rests it against her breast before slowly guiding it down her body; she’s showing me exactly what she wants from me. How she wants it. But I already know. I know where she wants my hands. I know where she wants my mouth. I know where she wants me most of all. I take her into my arms, hitching her leg around my thigh before I kiss her, breaking her open. She’s so soft, slick and eager in my arms, kissing me back with an urgency that drives me wild. I tilt her head back as I break away, kissing her neck, then lower; slowly, carefully, replacing my hands with my mouth everywhere on her body. Her desperate, anguished sounds send shock waves of pleasure through me, setting me on fire. She reaches behind her, searching for purchase against the tile wall, her back arching with pleasure.  I love the way she loses herself with me, the way she lets go, trusting me completely with her needs, her pleasure. I never feel closer to her than when we’re so entwined, when there’s nothing but openness and love between us. She touches me then, gently wraps her hand around me, and I squeeze my eyes shut, hardly able to contain the sound I make, low in my throat. All I can think in this moment is that I don’t want this to be over: I want to be trapped in here for hours, her slick body against mine, her voice in my ear begging me, as she is now, to make love to her. “Please,” she says, still touching me. “Aaron--” I sink down, without warning, onto my knees. Ella steps back, confused for all of a second before her eyes widen with understanding. “Come here, love.” Ella is hesitant at first. I feel her sudden shyness, desire, and self-consciousness colliding, and I study her as she stands there, the sheen of her wet curves in this light, her long dark hair painted to her skin. Hot drops of water race down her breasts, skim her navel. She’s dripping wet, so gorgeous I hardly know what to do with myself.  She makes her way over to me slowly, her cheeks pink with heat, her eyes dark with need. I intercept her once she’s standing in front of me, planting my hands around her hips. I look up at her in time to see her blush, a moment of self-consciousness gone in seconds. She’s soon gasping my name, her hands in my hair, at the back of my neck. She’s already so wet, so ready for me; the sight of her--the taste of her--it’s too much. I feel like I’m detaching from my mind as I watch her lose herself. I can feel her legs shaking as she cries out for more, for me, and when she comes she stifles her scream in my hair. I’m on my feet a moment later, capturing the last of her cries with my mouth, kissing her as she trembles in my arms, her harsh breaths slowing down. Ella reaches for me even then, touches me until I’m blind with pleasure. She pushes me, gently, up against the wall, kissing my throat, running her hands down my chest, my torso, and then she sinks to her knees in front of me, taking me into her mouth-- I make a tortured sound, grasping at the wall, hardly able to breathe. The pleasure is white-hot; all encompassing. I can’t think around it. I can hardly see straight. And for a moment I think I’ve actually lost my mind, separated from my body.  “Ella,” I gasp. “I want you,” she says, breaking away, her words hot against my skin. “Please--now--” My heart still pounding in my chest, I step aside. Turn off the shower. Ella startles, surprised even as she gets to her feet. I step past her to grab a towel for each of us and she accepts hers with some confusion, refusing to dry herself off. “But--” I scoop her up without a word and she squeaks, half laughing as I carry her over to the single bed in our room. I lay her down carefully, and she looks up at me, eyes wide with wonder, her wet hair plastered to her skin, water dripping everywhere. I couldn't care less if we flooded this room.  I join her on the bed, carefully straddling her damp, gleaming body before leaning down to kiss her, this need so brutal it’s almost indistinguishable from anguish. I touch her while I kiss her, stroking her slowly at first, then deeper, more urgent. She whimpers against my mouth, urging me closer, lifting her hips. I move inside her with painstaking slowness, the pleasure so profound it seems to sever my connection to reality.  “God, you feel so good,” I say, hardly recognizing the ragged sound of my own voice. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” She only moans my name in response, her arms wrapped tight around my neck as she pulls me closer. I can feel her growing torment, her need for release as great as my own. We find a rhythm as we move. Ella hooks her legs around my waist, and she doesn’t stop kissing me; my mouth, my cheeks, my jaw—any part of me she can reach—her feverish touches interrupted only by desperate pleas begging me for more—faster, harder— “I love you,” she says desperately. “I love you so much—” I let go when I feel her come apart, losing myself in the moment with a stifled cry, my body seizing as it succumbs to this, the most acute form of pleasure. I bury my face in her chest, listening to the sound of her racing heart for only a moment before disengaging myself, for fear of crushing her. Somehow the two of us manage, just barely, to squeeze in together on the narrow bed.  Ella tucks herself into my side, pressing her face against my neck, and I reach for the insubstantial covers, drawing them up around us.  She grazes my chest with the tips of her fingers, drawing patters, and this single action ignites a low heat deep inside me.  I could do this all day. I don’t care what happened yesterday. I don’t need an explanation. None of it seems to matter anymore, not when she’s here with me. Not when her naked body is wrapped up in mine, not when she draws her hands along my skin, touching me with a tenderness that tells me everything I need to know. All I want is this. Her. Us.

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“How’s this for a surprise?” Kenji says, leaning against the folding chair. “This beautiful piece of shit right here?” He gestures at the dilapidated house next door. “This one’s mine.” That wipes the smile off my face. “That’s right, buddy.” Kenji is grinning now. “We’re going to be neighbors.”

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I take her into my arms then, pulling her tightly against me, breathing in the familiar scent of her. When she’s here, right here, it’s so much easier to breathe. She’s real when she’s in my arms.

Aaron Warner

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I feel as if I’ve stepped into a strange, alternate reality, into a world where I didn’t think I’d ever belong. I could never have anticipated that somehow, somewhere along this tumultuous path— I’d acquired friends.

Aaron Warner

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“ You and I— Aaron, people like us think good things will disappear because that’s how it’s always been. Good things have never lasted in our lives; happiness has never lasted. And somehow we can only expect what we’ve experienced.“ “But do you know what I’ve realized?” she says. “I’ve realized that we have the power to break these cycles. We can choose happiness for ourselves and for each other, and if we do it often enough, it’ll become our new normal, displacing the past. Happiness will stop feeling strange if we see it every day.”

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You need quiet. You need space, and privacy. I want you to know that I know that—that I see you. I appreciate everything you do for me, and I see it, I see it every single time you sacrifice your comfort for mine. But I want to take care of you, too. I want to give you peace. I want to give you a home. With me.

Ella