ronansullivan

[ronansullivan]

sully had slipped the net of his responsibilities for the evening, riding off into the sunset... well, just as far as the other side of manhattan, drawing stare after stare with his heavily tattooed and pierced form dismounting from the harley. she roared ten times as loud when boxed in by the skyscrapers. it wasn't often that he sat and drank alone anymore, a habit he'd spiralled into after tommy died, maybe he was brooding but this felt more productive than spiralling ever had.

he quirked an eyebrow as someone approached him, levelling them with a hard-eyed jade green stare that most withered in front of over the rim of his tumbler of whiskey. not this one. whatever the case, he paid attention because of the sheer balls that took. he raked a disdainful once over from luciano's feet to the tips of his carefully intentionally mussed hair.

"how many times has that line worked for you, kid?"

WHERE. just a regular ol' bar WHEN. 11.20 pm, friday WHO. luciano + @ronansullivan

there had been something about owning a club that meant luciano really didn't need to go elsewhere. for why would he bother paying for a drink, when they came free at his own establishment ? well ... that question would hold weight, were lucky actually paying for his own drinks. despite the money that came with his name, there had always been a thrill at getting others to do what he wanted of them. that night would be no different, as his hand rested upon the arm of another. his gaze had been so fixed upon theirs, until a different sight drew his attention.

for a moment, he debated against it. for the man screamed of a danger that luciano had not quite had a taste of. but ... were that not the thrill of the game ? to stand on the edge and peer into the darkness below ? his hand drew back from the man before him. and even though he was mid-sentence, luciano excused himself with ease. so that he could find himself before sully. " you look familiar , " perhaps his words held truth. that beneath the haze of that which seemed to always be in his system. was the memory of seeing this man before. " do we know each other ? or is that just me hoping so ? "

[ronansullivan]

[ronansullivan]

closed @gcldenhecrts where / sullivan's salvage, garage

"I'm not sayin' you can't do that shit, you're grown for godsakes, but practice it low down. Jump off a bench or something kid." Sully kneaded at the wrinkles on his brow, feeling the headache starting to set in, Metallica played over the radio and someone was switching tires on their bike behind them. "I need my patched members out of casts to keep the prospects in line, Freds."

[ronansullivan]

When asked about Sully's home, he'll show you two polaroids and not say much more about it.

Thomas Sullivan (Garrett Hedlund) & Whitney Sullivan Dixon (Shantel Vansanten)

Freya Dixon seen by no one in play in person but his closest club members will have seen him with this photo.

[ronansullivan]

oxana had always been different, from the very moment he laid eyes on her she had a world-weariness that was as familiar as the back of his own hand. aged before her time by enduring, surviving, no matter the cost. he couldn't judge someone for the choices they made to survive, when he'd have chewed his own leg off to escape a trap at that age. now he often forgot the years that lapsed between them, when they spoke, her face was as beautiful and unlined as it was the day he'd met her.

sully never would have told the other members to ease up on her, to not ask questions about her past as that would have painted a target on her back as a prospect. he made a point of never asking probing questions and deftly changed the subject if it crept too close to her orbit. caring more for the raw power of her actions, the unflinching, unblinking valkyrie with a gatling gun that he trusted with his life. whether he'd pay for that with it was his own gamble.

freya was older, a small adult rather than an out-and-out kid, it complicated the way he moved through the club. many of the greener, younger girls found his power and mystery intoxicating, but he was tired of riding his reputation, preferring nowadays to spend his time amongst people who knew that his knee ached something fierce before the first snow of winter from when he broke it coming off the bike in '99, that he liked to watch fraggle rock in the mornings and craved dutch babies from that one diner in flatbush, the ones who already knew who the 'tommy sullivan in memoriam' patch was for and never asked. simply listened.

"i found you, didn't i?" he murmurs throatily, just loud enough that she can hear him over the music. "smart woman." sully parrots her early sentiment, deliberately leaving room for her performance and enhancing it with his matching of the sinuous dance that was the simple conversation, a neon-tinted mirror of their sparring, coming together and moving apart. it was all in the body and they moved together seamlessly. goosebumps ripple out pleasantly at the whisper of her breath across his ear.

he nods his acquiescence and when she leads him away by the hand he tries to simply fade back into the shadows behind the spotlight she so rightly commands with ease, his hand dwarfing hers. then they're alone and the playing is over. "it's a big swing to make... syndicate? too damn obvious though." sully rubs his bearded chin. "either somebody's just trying to rattle everybody, get 'em scared or they'll take this entire city to its knees."

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 them are intoxicating, sure -- but there are times when oxana can't help but let her mind wander. if she were merely just a girl, making her living without anything else on her mind, and he were just a customer -- would things be different? would he have even looked her way at all? she has convinced herself that this little charade that they did, the game that they played to sneak away and talk business was nothing more than acting, but the girlish side of her wishes it wasn't. she knew better than to confuse a devotion to her promises, and devotion to another human being -- but the longer he continued to pretend to undress her with his gaze.. the more the lines began to blur.

of course she notices the chirps of the other girls, the batting of their laqured eyelashes. it's enough to make any other woman's blood boil. those who had the luxury of being nothing more than a girl, a beautiful little fool. she hasn't quite grappled to the very reason why she feels white heat course through her -- it's like a tattered rope slipping between her fingers. she feels the burn, and it stings. but she is not the kind of woman who will allow herself to be tied to any kind of hope -- hope that someone will change. change does not exist without some kind of desire for it.

anya is her way of placing things on the back burner. she is an enigma of a woman, draped in leather and lace -- an angel of darkness, calling you into it's grasp. oxana, however, is simply a weapon. she is silent but deadly -- acting at sully's call. but, any duty to the ghost riders has become more than that. it has evolved into respect, deep-rooted trust... and then something else entirely.

" smart man.. " she hums in response, trying not to let it show that the purr of his voice in her ears has any effect on her. " something tells me you have a taste for the finer things. " they're acting. just until they get off the floor. even if she can feel the redness in her cheeks, thankfully hidden by the canopy of the neon lights. she stands inches away from him as she speaks, almost forgetting the routine. but the smirk still blossoms across her cheeks. just as we've practiced. eyes lock with his before she gracefully positions herself inches away from his ear.

" consider me your guide. "

as she leads him across the floor, she can't help the urge to pat herself on the back for another job well done. jealousy now aroused, they could talk business in peace without any questions. the door closes and she drapes a robe made of black silk over her shoulders. " that phone call. " she begins, the seductive lilt leaving her accent as she begins to open the conversation once more. it's hard to let that die, when she looks at him. " it could be nothing, but it could also be something. "

[ronansullivan]

seventeen going under // sam fender

[ronansullivan]

Ronan didn't answer. He wasn't sure he had one, or that there was any stopping her ripping through like a force of nature so he simply clashed them together again. At her urging he easily redoubled his grip, the tendons of his hand flexing and the knuckles strained white and blue-black with ink against the rich olive tan of her neck.

Instinctively he gave her room as she wrapped those smooth, endless legs around the leather of his cut, the inside of her thighs would be printed with the stitching of the patches there if he did this right. Sully drank her up, relishing the sharp bite of her nails into his shoulders and slammed her back into the reinforced glass of the skyscraper. The biker dug his hand into the meat of her ass rapaciously with a low grown: she was just as soft, just as flexible as the last time he held her like this. He missed the knife. "You want me to fuck you here, viper? Finally make you feel like someone's proud of you?"

𝐀t the order she instinctively jutted her chin higher, no one told her what to do. Not anymore. "Make me stop," she hissed, the hand without the blade dragged down the muscled lines of his stomach brazenly. She missed the vice-like pressure of just a moment before and made sure to squeeze his hand around her throat to make sure he knew, her slim uncalloused fingers comically small against his rough knuckles.

This was what they were good at, the only time any of their interactions made sense to her at all. It burned hot and furious, that hadn't changed in two years at least. She hummed, lifting the dagger away from him without breaking the kiss. Aurora looped her elbow around his neck and jumped, hitching her legs around his waist with every faith he'd catch her, her skirt rucked up carelessly around her hips.

[ronansullivan]

closed @missseraphina where / seduction 11:05am

Sera was always an interesting case to Sully, she dripped of the high life but had done an admirable job of shedding her old skin and coming down to what her past crowd thought of as the gutter. Being adaptable would get you far anywhere but particularly with the Ghostriders, he didn't always agree with her choices or understand her motivations but she was a key player all the same. Ronan unstacked chairs for opening, Seduction unlocked its illustrious doors at 1pm. "This call's got 'em spooked all the way to the top. What sick fuck uses a dead man's face, anyway?"

[ronansullivan]

@twinserpents

[ronansullivan]

"Don't push me like that. Why do you never know when to stop pushing, Aurora?" Sully growled in her face, the New York skyline was visible behind her. Its inhabitants were oblivious to what was taking place thirty stories up. His grip loosened but didn't abate entirely. All she cared about was the upper hand and the reputation of her precious family who had thrown her under the bus as callously as if she were trash in favour of her brother who was all flash and no substance.

He felt the knife twist and a low heat trickled down his spine. Sully could never quite tell with her, what was truth and what was lie even in his many years of experience. She was opaque. He listened to his gut and nodded, mouth pulled tight, realizing just how much information she would be able to glean from this slip in his control. Ronan stepped into her bringing them flush and brought up his other hand, heedless to the dagger, he buried it in the roots of her hair, grip like iron. Better make it count.

𝐓he Capo's head clanged nastily off the glass and she tasted a trickle of blood, he was right, her emerald handled dagger point pressed into the kidneys on his back. Four, five strikes to both and he'd be dead within the minute. "Oh you know I like it rough, I thought you said that we were done? That that was going to be the last time? Oh, and the time before that." Aurora grit out with what small amount of oxygen she had in reserve, staring him in the face to read his intent.

He was terrified, of whatever he had up in Long Island being destroyed. It had been child's play to have him tailed, though the Ghostriders were rulers of the roadways and the Serpent scouts never got close to where the President ended up once he crossed that bridge. Still, she turned the blade, ready to end him if he made the wrong choice. "I didn't tell anyone, Ronan. Not a soul, I swear it on my padre's signet ring."

[ronansullivan]

Jensen Ackles as Russell Shaw Tracker (2024) | 1.12 – “Off The Books”

[ronansullivan]

Look, change won’t happen quick or without blood. But it’ll happen. It has to.

[ronansullivan]

Sully's face didn't twitch. Clearly what had happened in the last few days had shaken the Ice Princess of New York, such a shame when she had already been knocked off her throne, it was affecting her game. "Enough, Aurora, it's done. Why do you always push." The muscle in his jaw twitched. He'd not intended for this to happen but this woman had never struggled, never played with dollar tree toys in a roach-infested basement, hadn't watched her mom starve to keep her fed, hadn't clawed her way to the top with her bare hands.

Rub his nose in it? He was President of the Ghost Riders, not some peasant. An inked, muscled forearm shot out to grab her by the throat, backing her into the window viciously. "I'd rather die on my feet with your little stiletto blade in my gut than live on my fucking knees. Tell. me."

𝐀urora met his searching eyes unblinkingly, her perfect french-manicure set lay atop her arms, folded to show how unimpressed she was. "It's not a riddle Sully, a middle schooler could understand what I was trying to say." Her patience was quickly running out. Giovanni dead, the founding families looked weak, vulnerable, mortal. It wouldn't do. Damage control was desperately needed by the guidance of her stern hand and she had secrets of her own to keep. "That's what you keep saying..." She flexed her hand, examining her cuticles to show how bored she was of the rudeness. "If you have to know so badly, then beg, cane."

[ronansullivan]

Ronan's eyes roved her face and her form for a tell; all he saw was smooth and polished like glass, a mirrored surface reflecting nothing. "I'm not here for your rich people riddle-bullshit monologue, this is about more than just me." Sully's gut told him she wasn't lying but he would never trust a De La Cruz, he'd been to Babylon once and that was one time too many. "I'm not going to kill you, are you outta your damn mind? I'm not trying to start a war here, Aurora," he growled, exasperated by the Capo already, the Italians were so theatrical. He dragged his hands back through his hair. "There's nothing else, you know that. Now answer my goddamn question, snake."

"𝐎h honey, as if you have a choice. We're already playing, why do you think you're here?" Instead of being cowed by the deliberate threat of his posture, she stepped up to meet him toe to toe. Workboots and red bottom louboutins just shy of meeting. "If you're going to take a swing on me, you better not fucking miss because you won't live to get another shot, cazzo," she purred, as though they were discussing the wine menu at a particularly boring brunch, "unless you're here for something else, I'll kindly ask you to stop wasting my valuable time with your immature tantrums."

[ronansullivan]

Sully felt the air get sucked out of the room as he found her, not a single hair of the sleek brunette tresses out of place. Instead of her beauty quelling his anger, it only fanned the growing the flames. "I'm not playing games with you tonight, you silly little girl." He stormed across the room toward her, tempest made flesh. Then there was sudden peace, a cold, dangerous one as he paused. "Who. did. you. tell?"

𝐀urora sat on the window seat overlooking the upper east side, cornflower irises tracked the brute march past where the doorman would sit in a few months time and storm through caution tape from the app on her phone, bemused. The security system had long been installed, this was prime New York real estate after all. She let a beatific smile cross her lips at the distant insult and rose to her feet with perfect elegance as he rounded the corner. "Mr Sullivan, in the flesh, delightful. To what do I owe the... pleasure?"

[ronansullivan]

closed @twinserpents where / a new apartment complex, upper east side.

"You little fucking bitch." Sully looked around the empty show home, the only furniture was a huge couch that was larger than his entire first apartment had been. Veneer stuffed models leered at him from the cardboard cutouts downstairs on the shiny marble floors, it'd taken everything in him not to tear them in half. "Come on out, snake."

[ronansullivan]

As the curly-haired man walked out into the center of the bar the few people clustered in booths went stonily silent, turning to look at the interloper with outright suspicion before returning to their conversations as though he never arrived. Sully paid them no mind and continued to bus the counter, it was a job he'd been doing since he was nineteen and the bar work kept his mind quiet.

Ronan slapped the dishcloth over one shoulder and sized him up curiously. "A little early for our blood around here," One massive paw of a hand the size of a dinner plate plucked the cigar burning from between his lips, showing the flash of silver of his tongue piercing. Sully laughed, a huge booming one from his belly, "I can't help but see you're here alone tonight, no one to enjoy the pleasure of your company?" A chorus of snickers erupted from the back room. "Would milord like a drink?"

WHERE. a bar somewhere, hehe WHEN. 9.40 pm, friday WHO. dakota + @ronansullivan

there had been a certain level of luxury that came with knowing others. while remaining a mystery. for in the shadows, he could observe. he could learn of others, and use such knowledge for his own selfish gains. that had always been how dakota operated. how he had learned to survive in a world of blood thirsty sharks. he had once been a minnow. small, unsuspecting. destined to be gobbled up by those that had more power than he. but then the tables had turned. he had gotten his first taste of blood in the water. and he had adapted. he had grown and changed. until it were he that was the shark. and everyone else the unsuspecting minnow.

even the president of an mc that boasted of their ruthlessness. that claimed they were sharks in the water. hunters on the black tops. the smirk threatened to spill across his lips as he strolled further into the bar. into the lion's den. he reeked of the mere idea of prey, lost within unknown territory. just as he wanted them to believe. so that they did not suspect that his blood ran deep crimson. " is it always so dead in here ? " a simple question posed, as he stood beside the other. with a seemingly playful gaze that fixed itself upon the patrons of the bar. until it shifted itself towards the other. were dakota just another tourist ? one that had found himself within the wrong part of the city ?? or perhaps a businessman ? who had thought to chance a walk on the wild side ??