CUT THE ROSE IN FULL BLOOM ♱ AARON STAMPLER x READER
CONTENTS: reader wears lipstick but it's not that relevant, take the gender as you will. erotization of violence, morally grey reader, manipulation, toxic relationship, suggested past sexual assault mentioned briefly, fucked up jokes, canon-typical violence, murder, electric chair mentioned, suggestive. canon divergent. i alternate between events from the book and the movie. fluff.....? 💀 about 1.6k words
a/n: the Stampler brainrot is so strong... and I don't know how many words this is. darker than the last. proceed with caution! also, this is kind of a sequel of my last aaron fic? but it can be read separately if you ignore a couple things. this is a bit more of a study.
AARON STAMPLER, NINETEEN, has been three weeks and two days without you. Vail's orders. he reads in the stiff cot that lays on the floor of a perpetually lukewarm gray cell. he faces only a plastic chair that's too light to harm anyone, the other decoration in the room a stack of books sitting on the ground next to him.
when he is sure that nobody can hear him, he sometimes chuckles to himself. he has amassed a terrific collection of recollections through his short life— it's a separate world shaped of loud textures, tastes and sounds, with single memories less than a few minutes long running over and over behind his eyes. each time he savours them the same.
every time he remembers you he feels a spasmic, pleasurable flutter all over, too.
it has become difficult for him to decide which way he prefers you the most. more often than not, images of you end up rattling frenetically around his cerebrum like moths, naturally eating away at everything else.
but nothing comes close to actually touching your skin, smelling your hair or tasting your saliva, and he quickly is becoming more and more irritated— by the end of the second week he has considered more than once to just get on with the whole "Roy/Aaron" thing sooner just so he can fuck with someone and get away with it. Dr. Arrington's scientific doubt prevents him from doing that just yet, but it is on the fifth day of the second week when he finally snaps.
he was having a session with Molly, but this time she just wouldn't let go of certain topics; Rebecca, mostly— which she only knew about thanks to crumbs of information courteously given by you, a concerned lover.
she'd only looked away for two seconds, maybe less, and by the time her eyes returned to Aaron he was already next to her with his hand wrapped around her neck, spewing vulgar remarks and bone-chilling threats at her. Molly didn't know how she'd gotten out of that one mostly unharmed. Martin was next, and he didn't get any luckier if the butterfly strip on his eyebrow said anything, but that served him well for ignoring Molly's words.
soon after that they let you both reunite. you brought him a slice of pie and a coke.
to them, it was a bittersweet moment— even through their professionalism it was hard for the scene to not tug at their heartstrings, at least a little bit. some tears, hugs, kisses, whatever. only both of you could know the true violence behind the embrace, feel each other's fingers digging as deep as possible through clothes until they hit bone, hear obscenities muttered into each other's ear, taste the sharp desperation in the hurried kisses that were kept as chaste as possible
this would be good for his image.
after Arrington and Vail left, you were left alone with Aaron in his dingy cell. there wasn't much to see in the four concrete walls locked by a thick, heavy steel door with a small observation window on it, which was the only good thing about it besides its convenient location in the corner of the corridor. you wondered how soundproof the whole thing was, or if there were any hidden cameras set by a cop deep in the press's pockets.
you sat with him on the cot, your arms around his middle and his around your shoulders. for a moment there were only your shared heartbeats to be heard, pulsating hard against bone and cartilage to the point of pain and a certain degree of heartburn.
'what have you told them?' you asked after pressing your lips to the underside of his jaw and leaving a faint lipstick mark. you decided to leave it there. his fingers tangled with yours and you looked up at him through your eyelashes.
'i loved— loved him very much' the stutter made him sound choked up, eyes full of sadness and a certain innocence directed at the ground as if the Bishop could materialize back into life if he stared hard enough. the corners of his mouth twitched. 'i just... I just had to cut that son of a bitch up' he said, barely containing the growing smile on his face that ultimately failed in a burst of laughter.
your own laugh followed and he hid it behind the softness of your hair, teeth bared in an almost animalistic way. he reminded you of the hyenas entrapped in the zoo, the ones that you only saw because of a church excursion. the cost of that day was another tape for Rushman.
'they'll fry your ass if they hear you' you remarked when you caught your breath. there was some humour in the situation, or maybe they should screw you into his lap and pull the lever on you both at once, save the time.
'they're gonna anyway'
'yeah?'
'maybe, maybe not. Marty's grasping at straws but I gave him something good' he looked into space as he often did when he remembered something, the corners of his lips twitching in a wry scowl
'good for the looney bin, maybe' you raised your eyebrow, both teasing and questioning. you had been interrogated by Vail himself after Aaron's stunt and given a briefing when you showed them your best confused face.
'oh, come on, it was a work of art and you know it.'
'will they at least have conjugal there?'
he flicked your forehead, shaking his head with an abashed smile. you'd missed watching the blood bloom to the surface of his cheeks when you caught him off guard.
'there's conjugal everywhere if you dare' he replied, pulling you even closer to him —your leg was almost on top of his— before he leaned down to kiss your neck.
'does that include here, too?' your hand sneaked to his inner thigh, pressing lightly where you could feel a prominent vein pulsating through fat, skin and fabric. that was one of your favourite places to mark when you laid between them.
he smiled against your neck, his breath warming your skin in puffs of hot air. damn the guards and the cameras and marty and molly and the cops who caught you, damn the man who called the police sooner than expected.
''m s'possed to be their nextdoor country boy, y'know? you're makin' that real hard... amongst other things' he chuckled, mockingly speaking with the Kentucky accent everybody knew him for.
you let the obvious double pass go.
'staying away from you for so long is real hard, too' he continued, his voice going back to the neutral accent he had when he was with you. he became subdued by a flicker of melancholy, though no less aggressive in his want.
you kissed the top of his head and nuzzled your cheek against the brown hair, echoing his feelings. tender. his gaze followed your hands intently as you held his hand instead, intense and murky.
Aaron took a moment to compose himself, separating himself from you and leaning his head back until it hit the concrete wall with a soft thud. the deep breath he took made his Adam's apple protrude past its normal position and you wanted to put your mouth all over it, regardless of lust.
sometimes you just wanted to unravel him, lay everything out on a table. spleen, kidneys, intestines, liver, heart. no answer.
he kissed your forehead and hugged your sides, leaning to the side towards you and half laying down on the cot. you leaned into him, too, feeling slightly dizzy from the quick changes in mood.
the rest of your visit to him was spent actually catching up. he learned that you'd had to move to an apartment near Marty's office since the one you shared with him had been swarmed with the media and crazy religious people. someone threw an apple at you. it had almost been funny but it left a raised spot on the top of your head and it still hurt when you brushed your hair. he touched it with his fingers delicately, huffing with amusement and annoyance.
in turn, you learned more in depth about the whole "Roy" issue, how little time they'd given Vail and his team to build the case —only 60 days—, and he also got to tell you in extensive detail of what he did with the Bishop. you'd been dying to hear it from him ever since he got ripped away from you. to be fair, he hadn't helped his case— being covered in blood and all. you only got luckier because your story was actually believable.
«I yelled "forgive me, father!" but I was laughing in his face when I said it»
throughout his lengthy narration, your index finger traced shapes over his shoulder absentmindedly, registering every shiver and twitch he involuntarily made, and your mind also took you to the other two times he'd done something this big, the other two times that he hadn't been caught and everything had turned out just fine.
when he finished, his face was flushed red up to the ears and halfway through his neck, where you could see the little beginnings of blonde stubble barely prickling to the surface. you felt thrilled, free, mesmerized, almost. wordlessly, there was a shared kiss, slow and soft unlike your encounter when Aaron's hair was still caked with blood and you could taste it on his tongue. now his kisses were the flavour of sugar from the treats you brought.
the little you had left of the hour —probably less than ten minutes— was spent in comfortable silence, simply laying in each other's arms. you didn't really want to leave him there, but for the moment there wasn't much you could do unless you wanted to put the police on your back. you kissed again and he handed you one of his books where there was most likely something written for you, and when you were being led away by the guard you looked back at him until the wall you turned obstructed your view of Aaron through the observation window, cheek pressed against if.
you'd be back soon.
