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bramblequill · 2 years

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No More Running: Chapter 10 - My Darkest Hour

A/N: Another trigger warning here. Ketamine mention, hospitalization. Suicide attempt.

Please stay. If you need someone to talk to please feel free to send me a note on here or find me on Tumblr as AnotherMunsonSimp. I'm always happy to lend a hand where needed. That darkness and I are old friends.

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For a blissful moment everything was right in the world. Barely awake, eyes only half open, highlighted by the pale yellow glow of early dawn, your face was that of an angel to him. Serene in your slumber. Not a single care in the world. In that moment, yesterday didn't happen. Eddie didn't believe in God but in that moment he would have prayed for more time just like this. But he knows from experience that all good things ultimately have to come to an end in some shape way or form. He just didn't expect to have this moment ripped so violently from you both by the loud banging of his front door.

You were upright, eyes wide and back pressed flat against the head of his bed, knees drawn upwards tight against your chest. You were shaking your head back and forth pleading “No no no. Please.”

Eddie placed a hand around your knee, giving it a quick squeeze.

“Wait here.” he said through his pulse quickly exiting the room, pulling his door shut behind him just in case.

His uncle was already at the door when Eddie got to it. He glanced at Eddie as he approached and gave him a look that halted Eddie in his tracks. He knew better. Wayne was protecting him from whatever or whomever was on the other side of the door.

“No I'm sorry, I haven't seen her today.” Wayne said, one hand holding the door the other on the frame itself.

“Well shit. I know she hangs out with your boy, so I thought maybe she'd be here. She's probably gotten herself into trouble somewhere again. She's always shackin up with her latest fuck. I guess she'll turn up.”

Eddie's jaw and fists clenched hearing the venom in your fathers voice as he spoke so disapprovingly about you. He wanted so badly to push past his uncle and honor the violent flashes that raced through his imagination. Disgust making his blood burn hot.

His uncle took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket then, pulling one out and sliding it between his lips and lighting it. He inhaled deeply before replying;

“I may not actually be a dad, but even I know no matter how troubled the kid, you shouldn't talk down about them like that.”

Your father scoffed “You'd do best to remember your place ol'man. Said it yourself... you ain't anyone's daddy.”

Wayne took another deep inhale of his cigarette and flicked some ash; “All I'm saying is it ain't gonna help anything none. But if that's all you need, I got business to attend. I'll let Ronnie know you're looking for her if I see her.”

Wayne all but slammed the door in the other mans face, doing up the bolt locks tight before turning to Eddie where he stood glued to the spot. Eddie was absolutely vibrating with anger. Face flushed and vein in his forehead pulsing. He knew he hated your father before, but now... fuck it was solidified in stone even more now.

Wayne took a step towards him, placing a single hand on Eddie's shoulder before locking his gaze;

“Are you 100% sure about this girl Son? You've not known her long now.”

Eddie pursed his lips, eyes narrowing as he glowered at his uncle: “I've only ever been this sure about one other thing in my life.”

“Alright kid, just checkin” this time a slight laugh from his uncle “Perhaps you should go check on your girl then? She can stay. Long as she needs. We'll figure it out.”

This time it was realization that flashed across Eddie's face. In the moment he had forgotten you were still in his room, he'd left you there... cowering and scared.

“Fuck.” he cursed himself and turned on heel, all but running back to his door. He'd be lying to himself if he didn't turn half cold with concern, images flashing back to yesterday... finding you. God he couldn't do that again. Subconsciously he held his breath as he pushed his door back open, releasing it in relief as he saw you curled on your side, fuzzy in your arms, eyes closed. He thought you probably forced your system to shut down, but he at least could hope that you hadn't heard everything your father had said. He stood there frozen in the doorway for a moment before crossing the room, moving to crawl in bed next to you.

It was as he pulled you into his chest that he noticed. Something was wrong.

Your face was slack, body limp and heavy as he took you into his arms. He immediately felt for a pulse, although relieved to find it the alarm and fear still vice-gripped his heart. What the fuck did you do!?

“WAYNE!!!” Eddie shouted, tears springing from his eyes “UNCLE HELP!!”

Crashing from the other room, but within seconds his uncle was in the doorway looking disheveled:

“What is it kid?” he asked frantically

“I don't know what she's done... Ronnie.... I found her like this...” Eddie was in full sobs now, clutching your limp form to him, frantically but lightly slapping a hand against your cheek. “Baby please wake up, wake up for me?” he pleaded with you. God your breathing was so incredibly slow. Barely there.

“I'll call an ambulance...” Wayne said decidedly “Try and figure out what she took?”

“Oh Fuck.” Immediate guilt wracked through Eddie. With him being a dealer he knew he had PLENTY of options at any given time for you to choose from. Though he did primarily deal weed, there were a few customers who preferred stronger highs.

“FUCK. FUCK. JESUS H. CHRIST.” this time his cursing out loud as he had spotted exactly what he feared hanging half out from under the pillow you'd been using. Still clinging to you, he leaned just enough to snatch the little baggie from it's hiding place. Ketamine. Fuck.

He didn't know your history. Sure he knew you didn't mind smoking a joint with him now and then but... were you on anything else? Prescriptions and otherwise? He had no idea. God dammit why didn't he lock his stash away better... why did he even carry this shit at home... why hadn't he quit dealing and gotten a real fucking job. Good job Edward... fucking everything up again...

Eddie was on a complete spiral when the ambulance sirens ripped through the trailer park. He lifted you up into his arms, hugging you to his chest as he went to meet the paramedics. He tried to insist on riding in the ambulance with you but because you two weren't family or married... no such luck. He stood there watching helplessly as the emergency lights faded in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust behind them. Turning back to the trailer his Uncle was already standing on the small porch, keys in hand.

“Go after your girl son. And be careful please.”

That was all the encouragement Eddie needed before he grabbed the keys from his uncle and took off in the direction of Hawkins Memorial... like a bat straight out of hell.

__________________________________________________________

Fuck he hated hospitals. He hadn't been back to once since... well since his own mother had died. He tried not to dwell on those thoughts too hard or long. Mentally waving them off as quickly as they came. Now was not the time to let himself slip down that rabbit hole.

Eddie approached the little information desk and gave them your name. He also lied and said that he was your fiance so that they'd let him back. He knew anything otherwise and they wouldn't even tell him if you were alive. Another thing he yet in this moment had to ignore was the way that that lie had made him feel. He'd never been one to see himself married, hell he still had high school to finish first... but something about you made him think about bigger pictures. Something about you made him dream about more in life.

Following the nurses instructions Eddie made his way through a maze of gurneys and fluorescent lights, ignoring the occasional stares from passing staff. He finally found your room number. He stopped outside the door, staring at the little plastic plaque as he quietly said his own form of a prayer to himself before opening the door.

Inside the room you were still sleeping. IV's and monitors, wires everywhere and a steady beeping from a monitor that ironically brought him peace as much as it stressed him out. He settled himself into a little chair at your bedside, taking your hand in his, caressing calloused fingertips over your long slender fingers. He lifted your hand to his lips and kissed it gently, silent tears welling in his eyes again.

Jesus Christ the last few months with you had been truly some semblance of hell on earth, but streaked with bits of heaven. Meeting you was one of the best things that had happened to him... and he wouldn't change that for the world but fuck if he didn't want to take you away from here. From everything that kept getting in between the two of you just being happy, horny young adults. It was the quiet moments he treasured most. Smoking in the back woods, studying together, you humming along to his acoustic guitar when he'd just strum random things...he loved every moment with you. There were moments like this, or the woods when he'd first met you, that knowing you ran his blood cold. Not with regret, but purely out of the fear of the possibility of losing you again. Now that you were part of his life, you were pivotal, and he couldn't see any future that didn't have you in it. He didn't want to.

It was there in that moment, the gentle rhythmic beeping of your heart monitors, hissing of oxygen tubes, and choking back his own sobs that he realized something he hadn't up until that moment. He didn't know when exactly it happened... and it was something completely foreign to him... but...

Eddie Munson had fallen completely in love with you.

Suddenly to heavy to hold up any longer, he lowered his head onto the bed next to you, staring towards the floor as he let his sobs overtake him. Clutching to your hand as the tears flow freely...begging idols he didn't normally believe in to make sure you were going to be okay. Begging for your life. Your future. He was completely lost in his grief and guilt when the most angelic of things he'd heard all day graced his ears.

“Eddie?” your voice was so soft. So quiet. Hoarse.

Instantly he looked up at you breaking into even harder sobs as he startled to his feet, leaning over the bed and peppering kisses across your forehead and hair.

“Oh Ronnie. Baby. You scared me. I was so scared. I thought I was going to lose you. I just got you baby... please I just got you.” Eddie was a mess. Absolutely gone in his emotions

Your eyes glistened as you stared up at him

“I'm so sorry Eds. I couldn't take it.” you said softly, reaching to clasp your hand around his where it now lay against your cheek. “I'm weak.”

“Shhh. No baby no... you're not weak... you just didn't let me help you carry your burdens. I've got you now. I promise. I've got you.”

Now every kiss shared was salty with released tears. Tears of pain, tears of relief, anger. All emotions that had been bottling up until that moment water falling out of both of you as you clung to each other, whispering promises.

“Eddie?” you whispered, burying your face against his cheek

“Hmm?” he said simply

“I love you.”

Eddie pulled away from you enough to capture your gaze, hands cupping both sides of your face as he kissed your forehead gently; “I love you too Ronnie. With all my heart.”love you too Ronnie. With all my heart."

Next Chapter - Chapter 11

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afilins · 4 days

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Ultimate Ongoing Rofan Favorites in No Particular Order

((ongoing as in unfinished. some of these are on hiatus etc))

These are titles I've enjoyed from start to finish with no inhibitions and the ones I without fail always find myself looking forward to. People who are into rofan manhwa probably already know all of these, but I still wanted to put them in one place (:

1. A Stepmother's Märchen

What is there even to say anymore. Absolutely incredible story that does so much justice to all its themes and characters and that is drawn PHENOMENALLY. If you somehow still haven't read it PLEASE do. You won't regret it. Personally I think it doesn't get better than Stepmother's Märchen in this genre.

2. I Stan the Prince

This story brings me the most joy. I would say out of all of these I Stan the Prince has the best romance, i.e. dynamic between the two leads. I can't get enough of them and watching their relationship grow so tenderly is wonderful. Catch me giggling and kicking my feet alongside Angela, the protagonist, who by the way is incredibly lovable, it's impossible not to be fond of her. The art is another thing entirely - it's so obvious how loved this story is by how alive and full of endearing little details every single panel is. It just makes me feel warm inside.

3. A Wicked Tale of Cinderella's Stepmom

Best mom award goes to Mildred, my favorite rofan protagonist. She's in her forties, she's a dignified and wise noble lady, she was fully and seriously prepared to kill a man for hurting one of her daughters. I like the male lead but I'm also bitterly jealous of him because that should've been me. This is a story about women being awesome, and not in a superficial way!

4. Catherine’s Key to a Happy Life

I can't fully articulate why, but this series makes me think about Howl's Moving Castle. None of the characters are particularly similar, but something about the atmosphere makes me enchanted in the same way. I think Catherine could be a Ghibli protagonist.

Mysterious and lovely with an intriguing storyline. Chezare is one of the most charming male leads I've seen.

5. I Raised My Fiancé with Money

This one is new, but I can already tell it's most likely going to continue being very good. I don't have too much to say. The art is lovely and so is the very endearing male lead whose journey of overcoming his insecurity and low self-esteem is the center of the story right now. This manhwa's fashion game is on another level - Ilya never fails to look immaculate, and her throwing her seemingly neverending money around never gets old.

6. The Perks of Being an S-Class Heroine

Rofan with action! It can be silly and funny at one moment and thrilling at the other. The next season is looking to be amazing, taking everything that the series' been building up and realising it, and the story is already very fun and engaging. The "tower-regressor-S-class hunter" genre of manhwa has been little by little meshing with rofan lately and I think this is the peak of how well that can be done.

7. Loveless Heroine

Thai manga!!! Now THIS is what I call a historical romance. Loveless Heroine interacts with its setting constantly and is very thoughtful about the way it represents the time period it's set in. There are also some queer themes which I absolutely love! This story feels mature and grounded, and I can't get enough of it.

8. Surviving as a Maid

This series has such a soft, melancholic feeling to it. At times it's empty, a little sordid, but it's also full of beautiful moments that you remember for a long time after reading. There's a lot of longing for many different things and I would say quite a bit of grief. Ash is a very unique and relatable protagonist with her own fears, flaws and dreams, and I like how both big and small her life is. Surviving as a Maid also feels very grounded, but in a different way from Loveless Heroine.

#rofan manhwa #romance manhwa #manhwa #historical romance manhwa #romance comics #rofan manhwa recommendations #manhwa recs #romance manhwa recs #romance manhwa recommendations

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tatakaebomb · 2 years

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Bully!Eren x shy!reader has taken over my life. Preferably non con. Thank you 💖

Hey! Thankyou for the ask hope this is okay!

- ash

tw : fingering, non con, bullying, non consensual recording, smut, cervix fucking, face fucking, oral, face slapping, eren using them god damn fists

NSFW 18+

wc : 1.6k

You don't know what you did. You don't know how it started, or why it started for that sake. But it's there. And it always has been.

That torment that he's had out for you, that detest. That envy whenever he sees you walk past in the hallway. That hatred you feel whenever he pushes you, or spits at you. Those words, those words he shares daily. Common words of : 'Whore' 'Ugly' 'Bitch'. Those words that nobody knows why you deserved it, but according to eren you did.

You tried minding your own business, sitting in the back of class, attempting to focus on your studies. But he was always lurking, with his friends he was worse. Always humiliating you to the point where you couldn't even go school anymore. And when you did? He was there to mock you about it...

The bell went and you were already in class. The back of class, seated next to the window where you could feel the cool breeze fan the back of your neck, your favourite place to take your mind off of things.

Your head slumped in your hands you open your book to get some pre-reading in, only for it to be harshly shut against your fingers.

'Aw did that hurt?'

Looking up, you were met with those green eyes. Those green eyes you try so hard to avoid but for some reason...he's always there.

'I haven't got the answers..' you reply, rubbing your fingers to soothe the pain. But his gaze was still on you, they never left. Analysing the wince in your face made him feel a thrill that just gets better every time he sees you in pain.

'Why not?'

'Yeager. Sit down.' The teacher called, him angrily pulling out his seat and sitting directly infront of you.

It was only minutes, seconds even for the teacher to talk. Which meant it was only seconds till you saw him scroll through his phone gallery, going through what seemed like millions of videos. You felt nosey, but you couldn't help be intrigued as you watched him play videos of what looked like him having sex. Muted volume but the phone quality made you feel sick, flash maximised on the poor girls face as you watched him face fuck her. Does he have no shame? Your right behind him?

The class finally ended, gathering up your things you rushed to leave only to be stopped with the words of 'assignment' leaving mr ackermans lips. And there's no better partner to work with than eren yeager. You felt like crying, out of everyone why HIM.

'Slow down partner, guess you got lucky hm' erens arm grabbing harshly down on your shoulder making you wince in pain. Spinning you around, you were met with that signature smirk of his. That same one he always gives you before he attempts to ruin your life once again. 'See you at mine. 9pm.'

'Why so late?'

'Don't complain.'

Standing infront of his apartment, you had to take a deep breath before knocking on the door. So scared to be so close to the man that has been torturing you for so long.

Knock knock

Your heart palpitated with every second you waited for him, your feet nervously tapping at the floor. Gosh what was he doing.

Suddenly, his front door open. And infront of you stood shirtless eren, hair messy and grey sweatpants hanging loosely on his frame. Did he just wake up?

'Why are you so fucking early?'

Checking your time, the clock showed 8:56pm. You were early?

'Whatever, come in.'

His room was dark, only a sharp green glow from his LED lights wrapped around his computer was shown. The curtains drawn and blinds closed. It was like he was in hibernation.

'Do you know what your doing?'

'Wh-' 'Good.' You couldn't even finish your sentence before he threw himself on his bed. Fingers mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

It was a dull silence, you standing up infront of the bed. Not knowing where to look, while his legs were splayed out. Not giving a fuck for what you do.

'What? Do it then.'

'I- I don't know what I'm doing...'

Scoffing, he grabbed a pen and paper from his drawers and threw them to you. Your eyes instantly falling to where he condescendingly pointed on the paper. 'You know what to do. Write.'

'It's a two person project, I can't do all this on my own?!'

'Well learn how to then!'

'I- I cant! Your the only one out of the two of us who can perfect soliloquy's. I'm only good with sonnets...'

Angrily, he pulled you down on the bed. A small gasp leaving your throat as he pushed the paper and pen into your gut 'Fucking write it, unless you wanna be forced.'

You were in shock, body too taken back to respond, the small whimpering coming from your throat was all you could produce. 'W-why do you hate me so much'

'Cause... your a whiney bitch who cant ever do shit right.' He slapped your face, red bruised cheek pricking tears at your eyes.

'UGH! Get off of me.' You writhe, causing another slap to your cheek. Your nipples being pinched through your shirt.

'God you would've thought all this mocking would've caused you to atleast hurt yourself... but no. Body still perfectly intact Hm.' His phone was pulled out, taking a picture of your bruised face to save for later. It was within seconds he started recording, the bright flash in your face making your eyes squint in pain. His hand drawing closer and closer towards your panties, playing with your writhing clit through the clothed material.

'P-please stop' your hand reached up to cover the camera, hitting it to a side making it fall, Cracking the screen slightly

'You bitch!' Grabbing your body, he threw you on the floor. Your knees colliding harshly with the ground as he quickly forced your jaw open and pushed his girth down your throat. Your eyes tinging and mouth retching and how fast he forced you on and off his cock. Saliva dripping everywhere as you were used for nothing but a hole to fuck, mascara staining your cheeks as your teary eyes forcefully stare up at him. Watching how he managed to record you once again 'Luckily you didn't break the camera hm. God you feel so good...'

Your lashes fluttered as you felt his warm tip begin gushing inside your mouth, salty taste of his sperm forced down you, eyes shot white as you could feel yourself starting to cry. 'Fuck...' was all he said as he stained your throat white and purple with bruises.

'Eren please..' you sob, hearing the noise of your gagging from his phone. The small smirk on his face as he watches it over again, saving it in his phone for memories.

'I know you were looking at my phone earlier in class... seeing all those videos. Truth be told I was just thinking about how much better you'd be taking me like that, you sure didn't disappoint hm.' Hand reaching up to pull at your hair, dragging you in for a long kiss. A mix of sperm, tears and saliva pushed on his tongue as he forced you down. Pussy dripping from the amount of action he forced you into.

'I- I cant-' you gasp, his fingers gathering the slick with his two fingers and playing with it.

'Yeah? This says otherwise.'

His cock gathered up your slick, causing a loud moan to leave your lips. Chest heaving in tears and pleasure. 'God you sound so pretty hm...'

You felt his inched force their way into your tight cunt, back arching and lips opened. A muffled scream and harsh gasp leaving him mesmerised to what else he can make you do.

His hands grip on your hips as he begins fucking you on his floor. Balls slapping harshly on your thighs and cock prodding your entrance so hard you can feel your cervix begin getting wounded.

'E-eren ahh fuck..'

'Never knew you were s-such a slut hm...' his hand cupping your cheek, watching your hazy eyes follow his gaze towards your clothed tits. His long cum stained fingers forced in your throat as you obediently suck.

He could feel the coil in his stomach about to snap from how well you were taking him in, pussy tight and wet. The skin of your thighs red and bruised and ass sore from the slapping of his balls. Legs aching from how hard they are pushed against your chest. 'I'm gonna cum fuck... gonna cum in this tight pussy.'

'NO! FUCK-'

Your back arched as your pussy squirted all over him, his warm cum filling your stomach so well. Warm ropes of white felt never ending. Cunt plugged and body tired and in pain. Taking out his cock, you heard his heavy panting only to be replaced with a small laugh. You felt mistreated. Used and abused...

'Bet you liked that hm? Being fucked by the guy you hate most, all over a fucking project...' he quickly tucked in his cock, sitting on the bed and swiping on his phone - saving the video to his favourites all while you laid in shock on the ground ‘Only 11pm Hm? Better start on that assignment’

'I hate you...'

'I love you too...'

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ikeromantic · 3 years

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Grieving

An Ikevamp Leonardo fanfic, approx. 1800 words. This scene takes place in the main route during Ch. 19-20. Spoilers if you haven't read at least that far in the route!

First: That First Night

Previous: Friend In Need

The next morning brought only more tragedy. Leonardo woke to find a message that Jean-Paul, the old watchmaker, had died. He dressed quickly and left to meet Jean-Paul’s family. The walk into town felt like it took a very long time and yet he arrived at the watch shop all too soon.

Familiar sounds of loss and grief surrounded him as he went from one person to another offering condolences. The words were ash in his mouth. He felt hollow, no sorrow. Just barren apathy. Every funeral was like this, he thought. The details might change, but the essence was the same. Bittersweet tears of remembrance and mourning all the moments that could now never come.

The familiar words rolled over him, a wave of whispers and the rustle and scratch of black wool. In some indescribable way, it was a comfort. The story repeated itself, free from surprises. Leo knew every chapter and verse.

Into this grey void came a shaft of light. At least, that was what Leonardo saw. The door opened. A woman stood on the threshold, draped in black that gleamed blue beneath the bright sunlight. Her lips were turned to a sad smile.

Jean-Paul’s daughter took her hands and pulled her into a hug. They had never met before this, but open-hearts and shared loss made for fast friends.

Leonardo watched as his cara mia walked through the room, her soft voice speaking the same condolences. Somehow, her tongue turned them to something new, taking the familiar phrases and transfiguring them to song. It was her voice, he thought. A sharp pain took his chest, and with the suddenness of summer rain, that void in him was full. Tears threatened the corners of his eyes.

This moment would never come again. Each breath she took was one less breath she had in the confines of her mortal life-span. Just as Jean-Paul had counted out his final breaths in the early morning hours, so too would she.

He realized in that sharp breath that he truly missed the old man, with his hard-won wisdom and artistry. What would the watch-maker have said to another hundred years, had he been asked. Would he have born the cost to watch his grandchildren grow up? His great grandchildren? Or would he have cursed, as Leonardo himself did, to see all he knew and loved wither and fade?

And then he had no more time for thought, because she was there. Not even an arms length away. Her gaze held his and it was so warm. He felt it on his skin and in his chest.

“Are you alright?”

After the events of the night prior, her request and his brusque refusal, they had not spoken. Those were the first three words from her. There was no reproach in them. No bitterness. “I am, cara.”

Leonardo offered her his arm and the funeral moved from the parlor to the procession. They followed behind the hearse, passing through the black satin draped porte-cochere. The arch was hung with long stitched cloth and tied with worn velvet ribbon. The ends were ragged against the paving stones.

The creaking of the horse-drawn hearse played counter-point to the soft sobbing of Jean-Paul’s loved ones. People they passed paused in their work to doff their caps or bow their heads on the long walk to the cemetery.

Jean-Paul was laid to rest in a sunny clearing. The graves nearby were his parents and grandparents. Older brothers and sisters. It was a good place to be buried, Leonardo thought. Beside people that loved you and were loved by you in life.

He felt his cara’s head lean lightly against his arm. They stood a little ways off from the grave, close enough to offer whispered condolence but far enough not to intrude on personal grief. Eventually, the two of them were the only mourners left.

Leo’s eyes fell to the dark space of the grave. In the space of a few hours, the world changed. This life, and so many others extinguished. Others, just born, sucked in the air of this world for the first time. It was a tragedy and a marvel. One that he stood apart from. He didn’t want to be here anymore. “Are you ready to walk home, cara?”

“What if I’m not?” Her eyes did not lift to meet his, but there was an edge of challenge in her tone.

“Then I’ll carry you. Come on.” Leonardo tugged her away from the grave, walking quickly.

She stumbled, her shorter legs struggling to keep up.

Leonardo kept her from falling, and guiltily slowed his steps. He had to be careful with her. His cara mia was fragile. Mortal. A delicate creature he . . . loved. The word was weighty in his thoughts. After last night, how could he lay claim to that, or even to friendship? He’d denied her impulsive request. He should be staying away from her. And she . . . she should be angry.

Instead she looked melancholy. Thoughtful. Her gaze was set on a faraway point as she walked beside him, her mind a thousand miles away.

He found himself wishing she would talk. That they could go back to the silly conversations they used to have. Him teasing her, and she laughing sweetly. Telling him about her life and the time she came from. But neither of them broke the silence between them. It only grew with each step, until it was too vast a gulf to bridge.

Though he hadn’t intended to go anywhere but home, Leonardo turned their feet from the road to a side path. One that led to a meadow, hidden between trees. A place that felt like another world, with the golden glow of afternoon sun and the brilliant colors of blooming flowers and flitting butterflies.

Leo sat, careful not to crush the flowers. He patted the spot next to him, and his compagna sank down to sit beside him. He took out a cigarillo, toyed with it. Delaying. He found that he didn’t know how to start. What words to say to heal the wound between them. If he even should. His heart ached for it, but his head told him it would only bring more pain, to the both of them.

Clumsily, the words tripping over themselves, he said, “Thank you, for coming, I mean. To the funeral.”

She nodded. “I’m glad I got to pay Jean-Paul my respects.”

“Yeah.” Leonardo put the unlit cigarillo in his mouth, chewed at it. He felt awkward, as if he were young again and incapable of speaking his heart. He felt old too, as if all the years between his birth and this moment were weighing on him.

His compagna seemed to sense his unease. She patted his leg lightly. “Did I tell you Sebastian almost burned the eggs this morning? He got distracted reading the paper.” Her smile was thin and false. An attempt at banal cheer.

“Shocking,” Leonardo replied. His laugh was forced, but it still felt good. As if even this pantomime of a return to normal eased his spirit. “Was it a grocery sale?”

His compagna shook her head. “Some crime spree.”

“Hm. Didn’t realize he was the type to enjoy those stories.” Leo raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“I don’t know if he enjoys them exactly. But he likes to keep up with what’s going on. It’s good though, because then I don’t have to read it. He just tells me what parts of town to stay out of.” She shrugged. “I’ve never seen him get so engrossed that he forgets he’s cooking though!”

“Well, good thing it wasn’t pancakes.”

They both laughed at that. Burning Theo’s pancakes would be tantamount to heresy in le Comte’s mansion.

Leonardo glanced away, words coming unbidden. “He looked peaceful.”

She knew he meant Jean-Paul. Her thumb stroked the back of his hand. Gentle pressure. Reassuring. “I agree. He looked like he was smiling.” Her voice sounded choked.

“He probably was. Jean-Paul was always smiling about something.” Leo ignored the catch in his own voice. His eyes found the watch on her wrist. It was a relic now, a memento of more than just their short time together. “Take care of that, cara.”

“I will.” She turned her arm to look at the face of the watch. “As long as I am alive.” The last few words were barely a breath, and Leonardo wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear them or no.

They both fell silent again, sorrow hanging over them like clouds in the clear sky.

The sun tracked across the sky in its unchanging arc, reaching for the tops of the trees.

“Leonardo?”

“Yes, cara?”

She looked at him, eyes wide with some emotion he could not place. “You said you made Lumiere an offer?” She chewed at her lower lip. “What did you offer him?”

It wasn’t a question he anticipated. That was how it always was with her though. His compagna was a woman of surprises. “Is that your question for today?”

She nodded.

Leonardo debated how to answer her. The right words never felt so far away. He had only the blunt truth. Raw and unpolished. It would hurt her to hear it after all that had passed between them. Still. She’d asked. He would answer. “I promised him I would be there for him until he died.”

His cara looked away. Her hands grabbed and twisted the fabric of her dress in unhappy knots.

“I told him if that was ok, he could come with me. And his tail twitched as if he was happy with that.” Leonardo almost reached out to take her hand, but stopped himself. “That is why I took him with me.”

“That is such a sad thing to offer.” Her voice was low and thick with grief.

Leo took a deep breath, trying to untangle his emotions before answering. “It isn’t. Lumiere will die before me. It’s a fact, and there is nothing you or I or anyone can do to prevent it.”

She nodded. “Yes. That’s true. But what about you?”

He didn’t have an answer to that. There were only the scars uncounted that scored his heart. A tremulous smile turned up the corners of his lips, self-mockery, gratitude, the knowledge that everything around him would die.

His cara turned to face him again. A tear caught the setting sun as it traversed her cheek, turning crimson as the blood in her veins.

Leonardo wiped it away, his hand lingering on her cheek. He’d brought her tears again. That was why he had to let her go. Back to her time and her place, away from him and all he represented. He wanted to tell her he loved her. He loved her so much that imagining a world without her in it flayed his soul. That he would take that pain on himself if it meant giving her back her smiles. The real ones that made her seem to glow.

Instead, he stood and dusted off his pants. “Come on, cara. It’s getting dark. We should get home.” He held out his hand to her and she took it.

Next: Caught

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp leo #leonardo da vinci #otome guys #otome #fanfiction #fanfic #vampires #fluff #light angst

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thedreadvampy · 4 years

Text

Sam and I were inventorying some of his old Mechs merch (posters and CDs and Kickstarter perks) bc he's considering selling some to someone who'll get some use out of it instead of it sitting in a cupboard

and it inspired me to look at my own CDs and I'm just OVERWHELMED WITH NOSTALGIA looking at my signed OUAT CD

it makes me miss hanging out with them a BUNCH, I haven't had a proper conversation with Jonny in maybe years just because we don't tend to be in the same place at the same time, and that sucks because there was a good chunk of time where I think Jonny was the person in the band I spent the most time chatting with and firing ideas around with. Same with Tim and Frank, I love them but I haven't seen them in ages (I had plans to catch up with Frank in like March but alas, coronavirus)

anyway this is a blast from the past and a memory of a time when they really had some time to spare just goofing off while signing CDs, I think a lot of OUAT signed CDs have this level of goofy in-character annotation.

(images under the cut)

"reluctant thanks" rude bitch

[image description: the cover of the Mechanisms album Once Upon A Time (In Space), a red page with a bookcloth texture and the title, band and logo printed in black. Over the top, somebody has written in black marker "To Ruth, with reluctant thanks, The Mechanisms"]

Jonny has annotated throughout in green. I'm not sure who's making notes in red block capitals - from tone I'd guess probably Tim or possibly Ashes. The small red writing is Ivy.

[Image description: half of a double page spread with small portrait photographs of three of the seven band members (Jonny d'Ville, Gunpowder Tim and the Toy Soldier) facing the camera, accompanied by short bios. Each member has signed their character's name next to their photo in black marker.

Next to the photo of Jonny D'Ville, the rank of "first mate" has been crossed out in green ink, and over the top is scrawled in green the word "CAPTAIN," with arrows pointing to his photo. In small red cursive, Ivy has written "citation needed" next to it. Somebody else has written in red block capitals "still first mate, Jonny"]

[Image description: An image of the facing page, with photos and bios of Ashes O'Reilly Drumbot Brian, Ivy Alexandria, and Nastya Rasputina. Drumbot Brian is a young man wearing a top hat with goggles around it. Somebody has added dots to the lenses of the goggles to make them look like googly eyes. Over the photo is written "yum, head" with a line leading to the hat. Below that, there is a photo of Ivy Alexandria. Her role is listed as "archivist", but an arrow is pointing to that word, and somebody has written under it in block red capitals, "stuck-up know-it-all"]

these absolute dorks

(I think the Tetris blocks might be a reference to the video the complete history of the Soviet Union to the tune of Tetris, which Ben at least once demonstrated a party trick of picking up any instrument and playing)

[Image description: The left half of a double-page image, a painting of the characters from the album. A pale-skinned woman with long black hair in profile looks out to the left, superimposed over an image of a man in a long coat, arms spread towards a sky from which bright lights fall in steaks and explode around him. Somebody has drawn over each falling light in black marker, turning them into Tetris blocks. Along the side, Jonny has written in green block capitals "I'm so high!" and under that is written in red block capitals "Jackie in the sky of exploding diamonds"]

[Image description: the other half of the same image. A woman with tanned skin and short choppy bright red hair looks out to the right, superimposed over a loose impression of flames and a wizened old man in an ermine robe sitting in a white throne, bordered at the bottom by three black iron pig masks with glowing red eyes. In thick green marker, Jonny has drawn angry eyebrows onto the old man and put a blob of green pen over his mouth. He has a speech bubble extending from his mouth in green pen, saying "fear me, Ruth!" Underneath, in red capitals, another person has added "and my horrible taste in makeup!" There is another green arrow pointing to the pig masks, next to which is written in green "Angry Bacon". Under that, the red writing has added "also stabby"]

the context needed here is that I have SO MANY DISABILITIES and as my big brother, Morgan KNOWS I have so many disabilities and is also contractually obliged to bully me. hence "she has those?" under "healthy organs"

[Image description: A page of the album booklet, titled "About the music," which lists all the songs on the album, with notes on the songs' origins. Under the track "Rose Red", it says "sung to a tune of the folk song with the same name, probably C17." Jonny has crossed out "C17" and replaced it with "2028 AKC". Under "Laid In Black," the final track, is written "a lament to the 1901 tune of Fifteen Men On A Dead Man's Chest, a pirate sea song written by Robert Louis Stevenson". Jonny has annotated this so that it reads "a hilarious lament". At the bottom of the page there is a note reading "Lyrics and arrangements by The Mechanisms." Jonny has crossed out the words "The Mechanisms" and written underneath in green capitals "me." Alongside, someone has written in red block capitals "fuck off, Jonny"]

[Image description: a credits page from the album booklet. The first line reads "The crew of the Aurora would like to thank the following for their contributions." The word "thank" is crossed out in green ink and replaced with "maim". The next line thanks Curious Magpie Photography for photographs. The following line (referring to me) says "Ruth Wilkinson, for art." Jonny has crossed out "art" and written in, in big green capitals, "all her healthy organs." Under this, Ivy has written in small, smudged red cursive, "she has those?" The next line thanks Granny Flat Studios for music. The following line reads "Dr Camilla, for not killing us (permanently)." Jonny has crossed it "not killing us permanently" with a thick green line, and written in "fucking off!" In small red caps, someone has written next to it "shouting won't help, Jonny. Though it is fun." The page concludes with a list of Kickstarter contributors, and is signed off in print with "The Mechanisms". Jonny has crossed out "The Mechanisms" and written in "JDV"]

#the mechanisms #once upon a time in space #mechanisms memorabilia

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masterwords · 3 years

Text

Soaked Clean Through

Summary: Set sometime post- 100, Hotch is arrested for murder in his hometown. The team has to dive into Hotch's personal life to try and prove his innocence and find the real killer. (Semi - AU inspired by Profiler, Profiled. References to Ashes and Dust and In Name and Blood are made.)

Warnings: murder, child abuse, jail, abusive cops, cheating, divorce, grief, depression

Pairings: None

Words: 6.7k

72 hours. They couldn't hold him for longer than 72 hours without making an arrest, he knew that. It didn't change the fact that he was sitting alone in an interrogation room that smelled like pine sol and coffee with a sickening undercurrent of vomit. People threw up in these rooms often. Nerves, mostly. But maybe the smell had something to do with it – there was no hiding that acrid, bile smell. There were places on the floor that it had eaten the finish away. Aaron sat stoic, hands folded on the table, eyes trained straight ahead. He hadn't done anything wrong, and of course he knew that, but they didn't. He wouldn't be giving them a show.

“The name Mark Baron ring a bell?” the detective, a man named Henry, asked. Aaron sighed. They both knew it did. Henry and Aaron grew up with Mark, it was a small town, everyone knew everyone. Mark and Aaron had been a grade above Henry, but they all hung around in the same feral pack as children and grew apart as teenagers, even became rivals. Mark and Aaron had been rivals in everything – track, wrestling, grades, dating. They were evenly matched in nearly all things, even had similar family structures, each with a younger sibling (Mark with a sister, Aaron a brother) and a prominent father (Mark's father was a doctor, Aaron's a lawyer). They were born to be best friends or rivals. They were tied to one another by the kind of childhood destiny you just couldn't ignore. Mark had been a better looking young boy, with long wispy blonde hair and striking blue eyes, that kind of angelic face that everyone loved and fawned over while Aaron, with his dark hair and eyes and his sharp features made people think he was always up to something. That couldn't have been further from the truth, but adults always had their minds made up about the two of them. Aaron would take the fall for trouble Mark caused. It didn't bother him for years, he could handle it. By high school, though, it had caught up to them and Aaron would no longer allow himself to take the licks, he stood up for himself, and Mark didn't like that.

“Don't play games with me, Henry,” Aaron said, his voice cool, collected. Henry smiled.

“So then you'll know why you're here?”

“Not a clue. I haven't spoken to Baron in years.”

“No?” Henry smiled. It made Aaron feel sick. “Mark was found dead in the woods last night, shot in the back. When exactly did you get into town, Hotchner?” Aaron stared at him, his eyes dead cold. He thought of Mark, dead in the woods, and it made his stomach turn. They hadn't been friends in years, but when you're that close with someone as a child, it never really goes away. He closed his eyes, thought of Mark's pale blonde hair that always fell wispy like rain into his eyes, got stuck in the mess of food or mud on his cheeks, the way he'd always catch the frogs or turtles and hand them to Aaron because he hated to get into the water, hated the way the slimy rocks and crawdads felt on his feet. Mark who always had an adventure up his sleeve – a pirate treasure map, hand scrawled, with real buried treasure at the end of it, or a blueprint he'd drawn up to make a hideout for their gang. He always provided Aaron with an escape from real life. When he opened his eyes again, he steadied himself, and swallowed the feelings of loss down hard.

“I got here yesterday, around lunch time. I went straight to my mother's house, because it was too early to check in at the motel. I'm staying at the Starlight Inn, room 4. I checked in around 6pm and was there until you knocked on my door.”

“Convenient,” Henry muttered, leaning forward on the table. Aaron didn't blink. “Can anyone vouch for you being in your hotel room?”

“No.” He had nothing to hide, and nothing to gain by scrambling or lying. “You don't have enough to arrest me, and I can sit here for 72 hours without a problem. I am sorry that Mark is dead, we may not have been friends anymore but that doesn't mean I killed him. If you let me call my team, they can help you find the person that did do this...or you can hold me here, and spend all of your time trying to break me down. You might even succeed, but because I didn't kill Mark, it won't bring you any closer to justice.”

Henry regarded Aaron suspiciously for a moment and smiled. It was not a nice smile, it was the kind that sent a shiver down your spine. “I'll call your team for you.”

By the time Dave was in the room, Aaron was exhausted and cold. At least three other officers had cycled through, asking him a barrage of questions that he'd already answered, each time receiving the same answers. They assumed he'd memorized every detail of his testimony, never really considering that it was simply the truth and he had no reason to lie. Dave looked at him sadly, hating every second of seeing such a man as Aaron Hotchner in this situation, after devoting his life and giving everything up for the protection of others.

“Aaron,” Dave said softly, sitting across the table from his friend. “Why do they think you did it? Everyone in this station is absolutely convinced it couldn't have been anyone but you.”

“I don't know,” Aaron replied, looking only at Dave. He could smell Dave's cologne, that sweet cherry tobacco and clove smell that made him feel intoxicated. He desperately wanted to wrap himself in Dave’s arms and breathe it in, to feel comfort right now in this cold, musty room. “Mark and I were good friends when we were little, and I went away to boarding school for a couple of years – when I came back, he acted like we were enemies. High school was a series of competitions between the two of us, it was mostly friendly but there were a few times that it came to blows. I was scrappier than he was, I had...more to prove. More anger maybe. The last fight we had was right after my father was diagnosed with lung cancer...I beat him in the 400 meter dash, he ran up behind me and shoved me into the stack of hurdles on the track. I got up and jumped on him, the coaches had to tear us apart, bloody and full of teenage rage. They didn't allow us to be in the same sports after that.”

“And you haven't seen him since high school?”

“No, not really. In passing maybe but that’s it.” Aaron didn't feel the need to elaborate – that he didn't come back here often, if he could help it. Every few years he and Sean would come to visit their mother, but he would avoid everyone and everything. Aaron always stayed at the Starlight Inn, right outside of town, to make sure he didn't have to stay in the thick of that place. He hadn't maintained friendships with anyone, he barely even spoke to his own mother or brother. Haley had been the only thing he took with him when he walked away, and he could feel the resentment in the faces of people he saw when he came back.

“So why would they think you'd harbor a grudge for this long?”

“When you grow up in a small town, and you stay in that small town, things have a way of being stunted. I haven't thought of Mark Baron in decades, but he probably thought about me every day. They go to the bar and get piss drunk and talk about their wild high school days. They all blame me for what happened to Haley.”

“Aaron,” Dave said, his voice hushed. “These guys want you. They look like they've done their homework. How much does the team know about your childhood?”

“Dave...” Aaron said, a small flash of something that looked like sudden fear in his eyes. Dave shrugged. “Nothing. You're the only one...” For the first time, he felt panic. Not because he thought he was going to be put away for murder, he trusted that it would work itself out, but in the process he was going to be exposed. The room swam around him.

“I'll do my best to intercept what I can.”

“Thank you,” Aaron said softly, but he didn't feel better. He hadn't considered just how badly these guys might want to pin this on him. “Mark's father was a doctor. The only one in town. My records won't be hard to find. Dave...” His eyes were pleading now, but he tried to keep his face solemn, stoic. He knew they were being watched. Listened to. Everyone in town knew Aaron's history, but his team didn't. He kept his past safeguarded, even from the people who were closest to him. Especially from them.

“I said I'll do my best. I'm not sure I can promise more than that. We have to get you out of here, that's our top priority. They said his body was found in the woods, I sent Emily and Reid out there to check out the area. Morgan and JJ are talking to the victim's family. I'm staying here to keep an eye on things. Aaron, we will get you out of here.”

“I know,” Aaron sighed, meeting Dave's eyes, looking a little less calm than when he'd come in. “I didn't do anything, Dave. It's my mother's birthday today, Sean and I came to surprise her. I didn't kill anyone.”

“We will find who did this,” Dave assured him, wishing he could reach out and touch his friend. Reassure him that they'd get him out. He looked around the room, the vile smell getting to him now.

“Will you call Sean and tell him not to wait for me? Give him some money to take her out somewhere nice, from me. I'll pay you back when I get out of here.”

Dave smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

The morning stretched into afternoon in slow motion. No one came to see Aaron and he sat at the table, trying to keep himself calm. Awake. He was exhausted. The room was getting colder, uncomfortably cold.

“You think we don't know what your motive was? Here's your motive,” came Henry's voice before he was even fully in the room. He sauntered over to the table and slapped down a photo of Mark Baron with Haley and Jack around a bonfire. Haley and Mark were side by side, his arm around her shoulders, beers in hand. They were grinning, she looked so happy.

“What is this?” Aaron asked, feeling his insides twist.

“Did you know your little lady was stepping out on you, Hotchner?”

Aaron felt sick. He thought about the phone calls to the house, the dead silence on the other end of the line, and then Haley's phone ringing in her purse. It happened more often than he'd care to admit. He'd shrugged it off, especially after the divorce, figuring it was probably just her lawyer. Something had gnawed at him, suspicion, but he would rather choke on it than confront her. He always just let it go.

“No,” he said, because it was true. Nothing to be gained from lying. Henry smiled.

“She said you were in San Francisco, on a case. She always came around when you were gone. Something about fires that time, I didn't really care. Your life doesn't interest me. I'm sure a lot of people are impressed but I'm not. What does impress me is that you put up with your wife's unfaithfulness for years, and now you pretend you had no idea. Isn't it your job to see these things?”

“Yes,” Aaron said softly, feeling his heart break inside of his chest. It was hard to breathe. His features remained stony, lips pressed in a thin line.

“Didn't your father step out on your mom? I remember him coming around my back door some nights...you think he had a thing with my mom? She told me he came by to fix plumbing problems...your dad know how to fix pipes Hotchner?” Henry asked, and Aaron caught hold of his sadness and pushed it down deep, replacing it with anger.

“Is this about solving a murder or humiliating me?” he asked, scowling. He wouldn't look at the photo again. Her smile was burned into his mind, how happy she looked, but that wasn't the awful part – it was Jack. She'd taken their son with her. He couldn't blame her for wanting someone to give her attention or love or whatever it was that Mark had given her, he'd always worshiped the ground she walked on. He couldn't fault her for searching out the things she needed because he hadn't been giving her any of it, but Jack. That she'd do it in front of Jack made his veins pump ice and the bile rise in the back of his throat. While he was sitting with a woman dying in the burn ward, watching a man commit suicide to save people and his cause, while his soul was being shattered into bits and pieces – she was here, with Mark Baron, and she'd brought Jack along for the ride. He could remember sitting in the SUV with Emily, talking to Haley on the phone, he could hear people in the background but he'd been so preoccupied by the case he didn't think to question it. And it didn't matter, he'd given her no choice. It was almost like she was begging him to confront her, to show that it even mattered and he couldn’t even muster it.

Henry left the room satisfied. The photo stayed there, on the table. He was racking his brain now, putting the pieces together. It was possible he knew and he just didn't want to see it, or think about it, or be upset about it. When his father was unfaithful, he'd gone chasing him down, only to find out more than he'd wanted – yes, he'd confirmed his father's infidelity, and he'd also uncovered his father's cancer. It wasn't worth it to know. He stood up and walked from wall to wall, trying to warm himself up.

Morgan and JJ were at the Baron house. It was a large white house, the sort that brings up images of old plantations, set on a sea of emerald. There was no farm land, just grass and trees as far as the eye can see, perfectly manicured. A kind faced elderly woman answered the door, smiling but sad.

“Mrs. Baron? I'm Agent Jennifer Jareau, this is Agent Derek Morgan, we're with the FBI. We need to ask you some questions about your son. May we come in?” JJ was always so good with families. She had that kind, empathetic nature that made people want to talk, want to be near her. Morgan hung back and took in the surroundings. Mrs. Baron invited them in, offered them lemonade, seated them in the parlor. Mr. Baron sat in a wing back chair, smoking a cigar nearby. The walls were lined with bookcases, full of medical journals and classic novels, old knickknacks, family heirlooms. It smelled like tobacco and old wood.

“Mr. Baron?” Morgan asked, extending his hand to the older man who shook it without standing up. Morgan didn't mind, the man looked old and frail. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, Agent,” Mr. Baron said, puffing on his cigar. Morgan and JJ took their seats on the sofa and gratefully accepted Mrs. Baron's offer of lemonade.

“Can you tell us if there is anyone you can think of who might have had motive to...” Morgan began, but Mr. Baron shook his head.

“No. I know they're trying to pin it on that Hotchner boy but he had no cause to do it. That poor boy's had nothing but devils in his life, my son included, but he wouldn't do this.”

“He and your son didn't get along?”

Mrs. Baron wiped at her cheeks, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “Mark and Aaron were so close as boys. So close. They made up adventures, spent all summer long splashing in the creek, creating worlds to live in that were far away from here. Aaron's father was a troubled man, you see, but Mark, he'd bring him here for help.”

JJ and Morgan glanced at each other, both knowing they were stepping into some very private, very dangerous territory. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know what you mean.”

“I'm sorry to do this to all of you, he always was so private. I hope he'll understand why I had to do this. Here,” Mr. Baron had maneuvered over to his shelves and produced a file the size of a textbook. “As soon as I heard they'd arrested him, I had this pulled, to protect him. Didn't want the Sheriff making his way down to my practice with a warrant, he'd only use it against the boy. Henry's always had it out for that Hotchner boy. You should have it. Keep it safe.”

JJ took the file and with some trepidation, opened the front cover. Staring back at her was Aaron's face, he looked to be about ten, with long inky black hair falling down into his eyes and a bruised cheek. He looked scrappy, like just about every little boy she'd ever encountered, but she knew there was no reason for a doctor to have a photo of him if it wasn’t something sinister. She looked over at Morgan before flipping the page. Photo after photo, hand scrawled reports. Bruises, stitches, broken bones. Her hands shook as she turned the pages until finally Morgan reached over and pulled it out of her hands, shutting it and setting it on his lap. She nodded.

“Are there any police reports that coincide with your file?” JJ asked, gulping down her sadness. “Anything they could already have?”

“Cops never got involved,” Mr. Baron said, shaking his head. “Small towns like this have their own way of dealing with things. His dad was the town’s lawyer, and a very well respected one at that. He had a lot of power around here, if you catch my drift. Lotta people owed him things that kept them quiet when it came to things he did...once or twice, I tried to turn him in but she wouldn’t press charges, and the sheriff wouldn’t even listen to my report.”

“He was always such a sweet boy,” Mrs. Baron said sadly. “Such good manners, always so polite. He and Mark were so close. His family sent him away to boarding school, and things were never the same between he and Mark. That Brooks girl caused problems for them, too. She liked Aaron, you see, but Mark had been in love with her for years. I was so sorry to hear of her passing.”

“Did Mark have any enemies, ma'am?” Morgan asked, eager to change the subject. He felt sick.

“Oh no,” she said softly, dabbing at her eyes again. “Not Mark. He only ever had problems with Aaron. When Haley came back to visit her parents, she and Mark got to talking at the bar and one thing lead to another...he didn't do it to hurt Aaron, you have to believe that. He'd always loved that girl.”

JJ flinched. This was up there with one of the worst days of her life, she'd realized. She sipped her lemonade. “So he and Haley...”

“She was so sad and lonely,” Mrs. Baron said softly. Mr. Baron cut in, his tone clipped, almost mean.

“What she did was wrong, Violet. There isn't another word for it. What she did with Mark was wrong and we all know it.”

Morgan sighed. “So she and Mark were messing around while she was married to Hotch,” he muttered, more to himself than anything else. He remembered being in Hotch's shoes, being the one in the interrogation room while his team were out digging into every nook and cranny of his existence and it made him feel ill knowing he was now the one doing it. “This isn't right.”

“I'm sorry?” Mrs. Baron asked.

“He wouldn't want us to know any of this. It isn't right.”

“I know...” JJ whispered. “Is there anything else you can tell us about Mark? What would he have been doing in the woods at night?”

“He and his friends liked to hunt coyotes and hogs. It's not illegal to hunt those at night, he was well within his rights to do it. They'd pitch a tent out in the woods and bring their beers and make a weekend of it.” Mr. Baron offered with a shrug. “I know how that might sound, but it's what you do out in these parts.”

“Was he with anyone that night?”

“Oh, sure, but no one saw anything. They've all been questioned.”

“Right...” Morgan said, quietly. “We should get back. Thank you for your hospitality.”

The precinct was cold. Aaron was shivering, pacing back and forth to try and stay warm. He was exhausted, and his polo shirt and jeans weren't doing much good to keep him comfortable. When Dave entered again with one of his pullover sweaters, it was a godsend.

“Thought you might be chilly, so I popped over to your hotel room with the officers. They ransacked the place but didn't find anything.” Dave said with a small smile, trying to be encouraging. Aaron pulled the sweater over his head and folded his arms over his chest.

“Thank you.”

“What's this?” Dave asked, picking up the photo, eyes darting from it to Aaron and back again. Aaron looked crushed. He couldn't hide it. “Oh. Oh Aaron.”

“It's okay,” he said, his first lie of the day. It wasn't okay, but it was in the past. The two people in that photo were both dead. “She deserved to be happy and I wasn't there.”

“No, Aaron. That's not how it works. Listen, the sheriff is requesting information on Foyet and Haley's deaths, and I can't get Strauss to block it – he must have some pretty compelling arguments to get that. I'm going to try and handle what I can.”

“He doesn't need a compelling argument, she's wanted my badge for years. She'll probably hand deliver the files just to see me sitting in here.” Dave nodded, he knew Aaron was probably right.

“He's going to twist what happened to prove you're capable of murder,” Dave said quietly, and Aaron nodded solemnly. He knew. It wouldn't take a genius to connect the dots, if they were so inclined. He'd been cleared of wrongdoing, but he had permanent damage in his hand that reminded him every day of what he'd done and how brutal it had been. The constant ache in his knuckles, in his joints, told him exactly what he was capable of.

“I didn't know,” Aaron said, coolly, and Dave cocked his head to the side, questioning. “I know he's planted a seed of doubt in your mind now too. I had suspicions over the years, but I didn't know and I certainly had no idea she was seeing Mark.”

“I believe you.” He meant it. Of course he did. He trusted Aaron implicitly.

“Thanks, Dave.” Dave gave him the most reassuring smile he could, but he knew Morgan and JJ were on their way back to the station and by the sound of their voices, they'd been given information they hadn't expected. Dave met them in the conference room and shut the door behind them, knowing he was about to be running damage control. The looks on their faces told him everything he needed to know in order to proceed.

“Rossi,” Morgan said, his voice sounding far less confident than usual. “Did you know?”

“Know what?” Feigning innocence. It didn't come naturally to him, and the look on Morgan's face said he knew Dave wasn't being truthful. The three of them sat around the table awkwardly, like they’d never been alone in a room together before. The air was stifling, stale.

“The victim's father was the town's doctor,” JJ said, interrupting the men and their stare down. “He told us about...”

“Is it relevant?” Dave asked, stopping her in her tracks. She looked stricken. “To this case, is it relevant?”

“It could be,” Morgan sighed. “We all know about the cycle of abuse. Rossi, what his dad did to him...”

“He isn't his father. This information does not leave this room, are we clear? You've never questioned his motives before, why now?”

“The vic's father said Hotch's dad had a reputation for being a flirt. Leaving his wife home with the kids and seeing some of the single moms around town. Did Hotch know Haley was messing around with the vic? For years, his dad said. She didn't bother to hide it from what I understand, it was well known around here. I don't know Rossi...”

“What are you saying Morgan?” JJ asked, her eyes wide. She looked like she was going to be sick.

“I'm not saying anything,” he muttered. “They just...they have more of a case than we assumed they would is all. It seemed pretty cut and dry but now it isn't.”

“He didn't know,” Dave said softly, folding his hands on the table. “I believe him. You should too, he's never given you any reason not to trust him.”

Morgan nodded, and JJ followed suit. “I know,” JJ said softly, putting her hand over her mouth, like she was going to be sick. “Rossi, we saw...pictures.” She set the file on the table and slid it over to Dave who palmed it into his lap but didn't open it.

“Don't,” Dave warned, shaking his head. Tears welled up in her eyes. Morgan slid over toward her and pulled her into a hug.

“Rossi,” he said, his voice still so thin and solemn. “It was bad.”

“I know.”

“The kind of bad that we'd see and think, yeah, it makes sense that they'd turn out this way...makes sense they’d kill someone.”

“I know,” Dave repeated. “But he didn't. You know he didn't. These people want to pin something on him, we need to make sure they don't. We need to stop looking at him and find out who did shoot Baron.”

Tears fell down JJ's cheeks, splashing into her lap. “How do I look at him and not see those pictures? Rossi, they were so awful.”

“Who he is hasn't changed. He's not the child in those photos. He went to great lengths to make sure that was in the past. He knew the odds and he beat them, let's make sure all of his work wasn't in vain. We need to help him and we need to respect his privacy.”

Back in the interrogation room, Henry was leaning over Aaron. “I saw what you did to George Foyet. With your bare hands. Apple didn't fall far from the tree, did it?”

Aaron looked up at Henry, his eyes narrowed. “That man killed Haley and was going to kill our son,” Aaron said through gritted teeth. He felt his lungs seize in his chest, tried to steady his breathing. Henry threw the file down in front of Aaron, letting the photo of Haley dead fall out in front of him. It slid across the table and Aaron reached out, pressing his palm against it just before it slipped over the edge. His hands were shaking, these were the images he saw in his nightmares. The images that woke him in a cold sweat, forced him to rush to the bathroom blindly to vomit night after night.

“So you say,” Henry leaned close, his breath hot on Aaron's cheek. “But you didn't shoot him. You beat him to death because you're just like your asshole home wrecking father.” Aaron stared straight ahead, jaw set, teeth gritted. He didn't move. Henry stood up, feigned that he was walking away, and turned on his heel quickly, cracking Aaron in the jaw with a left hook that knocked the man out of his chair. “You killed my friend, you bastard!”

Dave rushed into the room shouting obscenities, followed by two of the officers who pulled Henry out of the room still fuming. Crouching beside Aaron, Dave looked at his jaw, his split lip and shook his head.

“I'm fine,” Aaron muttered, letting Dave help him back up into his chair. “He's wanted to do that since he put me in here. It wasn't a surprise.” One of the officers brought in an ice pack from the break room apologetically and Aaron nodded, smiling. He couldn't remember the young man's name, but he knew him, he'd been friends with Sean. Too young for Aaron to hang around with. Dave reached out and grabbed the photos of Haley and Foyet, slid them back into the file, and tucked the file under his arm.

“Sit tight. Prentiss and Reid are following a lead. Turns out Baron was hunting with some buddies, and one of them hasn't talked yet.”

“Henry said,” Aaron began, but stopped himself. He understood. “Right. He's covering for someone.”

“Bingo. His brother Stephen was out with the group of guys and he hasn't been seen since. They all said they forgot Stephen was out there when Prentiss asked, said he was so quiet and it was his first time. Slipped their minds.” Dave rolled his eyes, Aaron just looked down at the table. He'd always liked Stephen, he was a good kid. He was big for his age, they'd played football together and the kid could block like no one Aaron had ever seen.

“There's a tree-house back in the woods, a real house with a roof and everything. It's passed down from generation to generation of kids, my grandfather helped build it. A super secret clubhouse for the locals, but sometimes hunters use it too. It's so deep only locals would ever find it. If he's hiding, he's there.”

Dave made a few calls, found someone who could take Prentiss and Reid to the location and sent Morgan and JJ to Stephen's house. It didn't take them long to find him and to find out what had actually happened. He owned up to it right away and he was a mess. Just as Rossi had suspected, it was an accident and he'd been so terrified that he'd run. He had no idea they were holding Aaron, accusing him of murder and he came willingly to confess. Henry was mortified, but he never apologized to Aaron. Didn't even look him in the eye when Dave opened up the interrogation room and walked his friend out. Aaron paused when he saw Stephen, felt terrible for the younger man.

“Just a moment, Dave,” Aaron whispered, letting his friend walk ahead. He reached into his wallet and produced a business card for a friend in the area. “Stephen? Here's the number to a good lawyer. Tell him I sent you, he'll take care of you.”

“I'm sorry, Hotchy,” Stephen said, tears in his eyes. “I shoulda come in straight away. I panicked. Mark was my friend, he convinced me to come out that night...god...” He broke down. Aaron shook his head and patted Stephen on the shoulder. He didn't have any words of encouragement, nothing to say at all, so he just squeezed a little, patted, and walked toward Dave slowly.

“Let's get out of here,” Dave said, holding the door open for his friend. Aaron walked out of the station, into the cool evening air. The team was waiting beside two black SUVs that looked out of place amid the rural setting. Prentiss and Reid were in the middle of an argument about something no one cared about, and Morgan and JJ were just staring at the ground and the sky, anywhere but at Aaron.

“It's my mother's birthday,” Aaron muttered, looking at the SUVs that could remove him from this hell. But he wasn't ready yet. Wasn't ready to look his team in the eye, wasn't ready to see the looks on their faces after what they'd seen that day. “I can't leave yet.”

“Mind if I stick around too?” Dave asked, searching Aaron's face for some level of understanding that Dave didn't think he should be alone. Aaron hummed and shrugged. He and Dave said a quick goodbye to the rest of the team and walked silently down the road toward the motel, it was only about a mile and Aaron just wanted to be out in the open. JJ had offered to give them a ride, but she could barely look Aaron in the eye and when she finally had, he could see the tears there and it made him wildly uncomfortable. As they walked through the parking lot, toward his room, Aaron finally found the words.

“What do they know?” he asked, his voice painfully raw all of a sudden. Dave sucked in a deep breath.

“JJ and Morgan were given your records from the doctor, they know...everything. I'm not sure whether Prentiss or Reid have any information.”

Aaron nodded, balled up his fists at his side but stayed quiet for a long moment. “Right.” Silence again as they entered the motel room. Aaron's bag was strewn all over his bed, his toiletries thrown on the floor. The place looked like Guns n Roses had been staying there. He stood in the mess of his personal belongings, taking in the scene and closed his eyes. Par for the course, after the last day. Accused of murder, turned inside out in front of his friends, his personal belongings violated.

“Dave,” Aaron whispered. “I'm going to take a shower.” Without waiting for a response, he stepped over the mess on the floor and went straight for the bathroom – a dimly lit, dingy yellow room with a fluorescent light bulb flickering in the ceiling. The shower was hot, scalding, and beat against his skin hard. He just stood under the water, letting it melt the day off of him. When he finished, was ready to face the rest of the day, he stepped out and toweled off, prepared to step back into the clothes he'd already been wearing but instead found that while he'd been in his trance, Dave had set new clothes beside the sink for him. He smiled for the first time that day.

“Thank you, Dave,” he said, coming out of the bathroom still towel drying his hair. Inky black spikes stuck up in haphazard chunks and he mussed it down with his fingertips, looking around the place – Dave had cleaned everything up, packed his bags again, and made some very bitter smelling coffee. The room was spotless, probably better than when he'd first come in.

“Thought you could use a win today,” Dave offered, sipping the hot brown acid parading as coffee in his cup. “I'm sorry about everything.” He didn't know how to say what he really meant. Sorry you found out that your wife was unfaithful? Sorry you were suspected of murdering your childhood friend? Or how about sorry that all of your secrets were just put under the microscope?

“Thanks,” Aaron replied, sitting at the foot of his bead to put on his socks. “You want to come up to my mom's place with me? Sean texted and said they brought dessert back, she's putting on some coffee. She likes coffee...it'll be better than whatever that is you're drinking now.”

Dave nodded, setting the mug of sludge down. “I'd love to.”

The drive was quiet, both men sat with the windows down, the cool breeze swirling through the front seat. Dave stared out the window, taking in the scenery while letting Aaron be alone with his thoughts. That was the beauty of their friendship, the depth of their love for one another. It went beyond friendship at times, when they felt the need for more. There was no talk of commitment, no jealousy, but there were plenty of nights that would otherwise have been very lonely. Dave had already made up his mind that Aaron wouldn't be lonely tonight, and Aaron was appreciative. The driveway was long and bumpy, but the house looked like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Somehow, knowing what he knew about Aaron's childhood, it was hard to picture this house being a part of that narrative. The door was wide open, two silhouettes illuminated in the bright interior light. They didn't wait for Aaron and Dave to get out of the car before rushing toward them, mother first and then Sean wrapping Aaron in hugs. Sean shook Dave's hand, told him it was nice to see him again, and Aaron introduced his mother.

“Oh, David, I've heard so much about you it feels like I know you already.” Dave looked over at Aaron who just shrugged and shook his head. He found it hard to believe that Aaron had said anything at all about him, he wasn't exactly known for his monologues.

“Happy Birthday, mom,” Aaron said, dropping to the back of the line as they all shuffled inside. He closed the door behind them and followed to the kitchen where there was a pie and four plates laid out with coffee cups steaming already.

“I can't believe Henry would think you could hurt Mark like that,” Aaron's mother muttered, slicing up the pie and putting it on plates.

“Can we talk about something else?” Aaron asked, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. His mother patted him on the shoulder and set his pie before him.

“I'm sorry sweetie,” she said softly. “I just can't understand what got into him.” She peered at his bruised jaw and tsked under her breath.

“He's an asshole,” Sean muttered. “I better not see him while I'm here or he'll be running into my fucking fist.”

“Don't, Sean,” Aaron chided, poking at his pie. It was peach pie, his favorite – his mother had never cared much for it, but she must have picked it out just for him. “It's done. His friend was killed, he needed someone to be mad at...I can take it.”

“I don't give a shit that you can take it,” Sean was getting angry now, raising his voice. “He's already down at Jimmy's telling everyone you didn't even know about Haley and Mark like that's something to be proud of. I got a text from Les, he said Henry’s already piss drunk and talking about you. What a prick.”

“It's fine Sean,” Aaron said, trying to keep his voice soft. “His brother just got arrested for murder. He can say what he wants about me, he's got bigger problems now.” Sean shrugged and took a huge bite of pie, chewing noisily. He was still angry. Maybe now at Aaron, who was just so willing to roll over and take it.

“So David, I want to hear all about your books...Aaron tells me you're a novelist?” Aaron's mother said, sliding her chair a little closer to Dave than he'd prefer. Aaron glanced up at Dave and grinned at the sight. Sean shuddered.

“God, mom, keep your pants on...” Sean started, but Aaron kicked him under the table. Sean yelped at the sudden pain in his shin.

“If you say another word, I will take you outside and see to it that Henry can legitimately pick me up for murder this time. Understand?” Sean nodded, rubbing at his shin. He watched as Dave told their mother all about his novels, book tours, all of the excitement of being a published novelist and scowled, leaning over toward Aaron. She had scooted even closer to him and was laying it on thick.

“You're just gonna let mom flirt with him right in front of us? Gross.” Sean was whispering now, leaning close to his brother. Aaron kicked him again.

“He can handle himself.”

Sean laughed, shoveling the rest of his pie into his mouth and reaching over to dig into his brother's, which was as yet untouched. Aaron didn’t stop him.

“Mind your own business,” Dave shot from across the table with a wink before going back to regaling their mother with stories of book signings and crazed fans. Sean rolled his eyes. This was the best part of his entire day.

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