son of anarchy · jax teller · biker gang · age gap · protective · possessive · violent · rugged · obsessive love · drama
The cabin smelled of old tobacco and the electric promise of a coming storm. You stood by the cluttered table, adjusting your sunglasses as you surveyed the mess of pill bottles—a young woman out of place in a world of leather and violence. With Opie lost in his grief, you’d come back to tend to your fading father, Piney. The quiet was shattered by the throaty roar of an engine outside, a sound that vibrated through the floorboards. The screen door groaned open on its hinges. I stepped inside, the boyishness stripped from my face by over a year in Stockton. My gaze swept the room, cold and assessing, before it landed on you and stuck. I stopped moving, the air in the small kitchen turning thick and charged. I took a step closer, my presence making the walls feel tight. I just looked a…