#thread; aaron

But then Aaron turned, hand closed into a fist, fire igniting his skin. The flames burned with intense heat.

@illbringthechaosmagic​ sent: “ are you alright? ” (To Aaron)

     No, he wasn’t. He hadn’t been all right in a long fucking time--but she wasn’t talking about all that past shit, was she?

     “Fine,” he muttered, shaking off rainwater from his leather jacket. It hadn’t been his idea to get caught in a rainstorm, but there it fucking was. Now he was wet, and in pain, every nerve raging. Damp strands of hair clung to his face, poking his eyes, and Aaron pushed them aside with a grimace. 

     What a fun little weakness he had.

@murderousbitch​ sent: “Say how you feel.” (aaron)

     “I feel pissed the fuck off.”

     Wasn’t that clear? After all this time, Faith should’ve been clued in. How much shit did he have to blow up to get that across?

     He closed his hand into a fist, but it didn’t quench the flames. If anything, the fire grew hotter, flames dancing across his skin. He burned hot as an inferno for a few minutes more before he forced the flames away. The heat lingered, flesh smoking.

     “I can’t do this shit any more,” Aaron said, lifting his eyes to Faith’s. For all his heat and fire, the blue of his eyes stood out in a freezing stare. “I’m fucking done.” 

@hotstuffxhannah

Black smoke rose into an equally black sky, embers rising into the night, little orange fireflies winking out into darkness. Flames licked at broken window frames, the fire consuming, engulfing, well on its way to an inferno.

Fuck. Someone had beat him to it.

Aaron took a drag on his cigarette, listening to the roar of flames, the crack of wood as something gave way inside and crashed. The world was alight in fiery tones. The incredible heat drifted toward him, but also from him, his personal heat signature more subtle than what burned. There was potential for more, especially if he stayed here, siphoning off the burning, but he had no intention to stick around. The authorities would be here soon. He'd light out once he heard sirens.

Until then, he watched the house burn, wondering if he'd still get paid for the job if he took credit again for that other firestarter's work. Or was it all figuratively and literally up in flames?

Shit. Enough's enough.

He flicked the ash of his cigarette away from him, tearing his eyes from the fire to search the area. Some onlookers had come out of their apartments and businesses to watch too, ever curious. But there'd be someone else standing alone, admiring their handiwork, their—his—job well fucking done.

And there someone stood a fair distance away, bathed in dancing yellow and orange light. A woman. What would be the chances? He studied her a moment, then decided to take that chance.

Aaron finished his cigarette, flicked it away, then walked toward her to close the distance.

a study of stars // @southern-belle-outcasts

"You're gonna be eating alone tonight," Aaron told her while he discarded his dirty shirt and looked for a clean one. "I gotta go out." There was irritation in his voice. Tonight was the one fucking night all week that he had free, and now that had been blown to shit.

He'd gotten the call just a short bit ago. The details were few, but it was urgent, to hear the woman speak. As soon as possible, she had said. It's about Kathy Connell, she had also said. Kathy, who had once broken his heart. Kathy, who he had long been over. The nervous woman on the phone couldn't give him much information when he pressed, but would he drive up please? It's important.

So what was so damned important that she couldn't tell him over the phone? Kathy was out of his life. He didn't owe her anything.

But still.

Aaron pulled on a clean t-shirt and turned to Rogue. "Another fucking job," he explained, the lie such an easy one to tell. Gods, he couldn't tell Rogue about this, not when he didn't have details. Just the mention of Kathy could freeze Rogue and that was never pleasant to deal with. Aaron would just have to deal with all that shit later, after.

"Dunno how long I'll be gone." He left the bedroom and strode through the kitchen, snatching his leather coat from the back of a chair.

"I'm taking the truck." Aaron searched the usual spot where they kept the keys, but couldn't find the truck keys. "Where the fuck are the keys?"

When he turned, Rogue grabbed his hand. It stilled him and he looked down at her, brow furrowed.

"What?"

can't be bothered to find the meme // @hotstuffxhannah

"Who the fuck isn't?" he muttered. What the fuck was she talking about?

His hands were already sticky with dried blood, but it didn't stop him from once again wiping at his face. The cut must be worse than he thought; it hadn't stopped bleeding yet.

Aaron looked down at his wet fingers, at the red, the gold twisting and snaking, throughout it.

Then it hit him, much like the blow that made the cut. Ichor, he thought dimly, the fucking blood of the gods. The shit that made his life a fucking mess—and was about to fuck him over again.

𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 // accepting // @hotstuffxhannah

He finished his whiskey in a single drink and pushed the glass away. Well, she wasn't far off the mark. Aaron could always use another drink.

The laugh became lost in his scoff, the corner of his mouth edging up to a half-smile.

"Think so? You wanna be that bad decision?"

@gentle-hearted

Jane's tiny voice cut through the room's stillness, bringing him out of his stupor. An empty glass on table contained nothing more than a few drops of whiskey—the last from the bottle. While not drunk, there was a certain buzz. It must've been enough for Aaron to drift off, thoughts mellow.

Now he stirred, rubbed his face, and searched for Jane. Then he looked to his shoe.