Of Vixens and Wolves

❛ㅤlook at me.ㅤ❜ㅤit's not a request anymore. it's been three days, and withdrawal from those beautiful eyes of @ofvixensandwolves' has her close to begging.ㅤ❛ㅤyou can't shut me out forever.ㅤ❜

“I’m not shutting you out forever, Violence. I’m not shutting you out at all. I’m busy.” He’s lying. Sure, he is busy, but he’s definitely avoiding her. The ice wall of onyx mentally blocking her out should be the only piece of evidence she needs.

for @imaginaryplaythings 💕

Austin Butler : The Kitten Interview.

tommy's brows knit, giving abel a look before scoffing at him. of course there was some semblance of truth to his words --- he doesn't want to hear wendy's voice. hell, it was half the reason he split late at night and told no one anything, because someone would have something to say ... wendy, nero, abel. " now you're just being fuckin' dramatic. " he mutters. " you didn't have to come all this way to tell me this. could've just phoned to give me that fuckin' tone. "

“I’m being fucking dramatic? No, I think I’m being honest about the reality of the situation,” Abel argues. His turn to scoff. Of course his brother makes it sound as if it would all have been so simple. “Because you wouldn’t have ignored all of my calls? If you wanted to communicate, you would have.” Leaving in the middle of the night without a word spoke volumes on its own.

He is both lamb and knife,     man and scarecrow.     He walks among the gravestones and searches for the one that signifies an early death,     or an undeath.     What survival has he bitten into?       What things is he forgetting now?        How to appear whole and awake   ⸻     how to leave no trace amid the gushing waters of a sea - headed river.      Jax denies the same fate for his son.    Refuses to admit that there is something sick in the blood here.    Fatherhood leaves a leech in his heart and he can feel it draining it,    each night before he sleeps.        “You been out here all morning?”     He questions this as if he doesn’t know the answer.     Boots shuffling to a stop as he leans against the frame of the open garage door.    A jerk of his chin towards the bike,    brows raised with the mild semblance of biased pride.      “Want some help?”

“Early bird gets the worm. Or so they say,” Abel says, pulling parts out of the box and carefully setting them near his bike. Thoughtful eyes meet his father’s. Many times, people have commented on the contemplative nature of those bright eyes, stormy as his father’s, as if they both know a secret to existence that would send the world trembling. He pauses at his father’s offer, glances back and forth between the bike and the older man. “Are you allowed to help?” he asks, worried about what other prospects and members might think of the young Teller receiving his father’s assistance.

" earl it is. " a soft acknowledging hum when he makes his tea choice, pushing herself off the table and pulling her little notepad out. scribbling his drink order down before tapping pen against paper. " probably. " hailey answers, looking between the menu and him. " means i won't have to kick you out immediately after you finish your tea. " a smile on her lips as she tries to joke a little --- was never very good at it. blonde glances back down at her pad. " you know what you're havin'? "

“Oh, I’d hate to get kicked out so fast,” Abel replies, returning her humor. He gives her a short glance and a small smile before returning to his breakfast options. His eyes scan down the menu, but he quickly closes it. “Uh, you know what? I’ll have whatever your biggest pancake platter combo is,” he decides. That’s probably easiest to say. He’s very much a pancake stack man and he needs several sides to supplement the hard labor he’s so used to. “Thank you kindly, Miss…” He stops and looks at her name tag. “Hailey.”

musician listens as aurélia continues to talk on the pictures. she's stopped reading too much into what the paparazzi wrote about her a long time ago. they were only after scandal's, never the truth. her hands keep moving across her legs, rubbing the moisturiser in as she hums in response, smiling over her shoulder at her. " let them guess. it's fun to see what they come up with. "

“I love letting them guess. It’s hilarious. Someone suggested we’re not even real friends. Why else would I spend all this time with you?” she says. She finally sets her phone aside, crawling to Fallon at the edge of the bed. “Now, you know I could help with that.” She kisses her partner’s cheek, watching the way Fallon rubs her moisturizer in. That's one thing about Aurélia: she has no shame in showing she's desperate. Not when her partner is this gorgeous.

fallon walks out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around body, steam filtering into the hotel bedroom as she walks and listens. she tends not to read or look up articles of herself, though sometimes it is hard when you're internationally known and things pop up even when you don't want it. her hands run through wet curls, humming in acknowledgement. " it could be worse. " fallon speaks, sitting on the edge of the bed while hands reach for moisturising cream. " they could have snapped us on the balcony earlier. "

She continues to scroll through headlines and the occasional amusing comments. “And they were roommates,” she laughs, finally glancing up at Fallon. She does a double take as her girlfriend takes a seat on the bed. Aurélia is a sucker for all of those curls. She’s never seen a more gorgeous head of hair if she’s honest. “Those balcony shots would put your fanbase in a tizzy. Some of them are already guessing in the comments. Hell, I play football, so stereotype already says I’m gay.”

" what's your poison? " one hand leaning on the table as she juts her hip out, the smallest tilt of her head as she readies herself to rhyme off their very limited options. it was either coffee or beer, no one really asks for tea. they weren't that kind of diner. " we have earl grey or a questionable peppermint. "

“I’ll go with my buddy Earl, thank you,” he replies with a polite smile. He may be a motorcycle guy, but he’s also a farm boy. He’s quiet, humble, spending much of his life lifting bales of hay and milking cows. “Guess I should probably look at the rest of the menu, too, huh?” He lowers his hands to slide the somewhat tacky menu toward him and opens it. It doesn’t take much for him to figure out what he wants, though. He’s simple to please when it comes to breakfast. He glances back at his waitress. Her posture screams confidence and nonchalance. She wears it well.

the youngest remains quiet for a moment, tongue running over pearly whites before putting the bottle of beer on the countertop. he's made his mind up, and there's nothing abel can say or do to change his mind. he's staying in charming, he's going to prospect, and he's not letting abel tell him otherwise. " go home to mom, abel. " is all the young man says before he's shrugging off his new cut and jacket to make himself at home after a long day. " i don't need you watchin' my ass, i know what i'm doin'. "

“God, you’re so selfish,” Abel says, exasperated. In moments like this, he hates being his brother’s keeper. Tommy may not want Abel to be his keeper, but he is. He has to be with their family history. “I tell you mom is concerned and you wanna be stubborn. I bet you won’t even call her, huh? Afraid to hear her response if you tell her you’re here? That you’ve chosen to become the next body she buries right next to our daddy and your momma?”

SNOW ANGEL by Reneé Rapp Directed by Alyah Chanelle Scott

The Bikeriders (2024)