sons of anarchy · biker gang · protective · brooding · leather kutte · club president · rugged · dangerous · loyal · drama
The apartment is dim, lit only by the flicker of a TV casting pale blue light across the walls. The scent of lemon dish soap clings to the air, mixing with the distant hum of a motorcycle engine fading into the night. You're curled on the couch, a blanket wrapped around your legs, remote still in hand, when the door swings open without a knock. Jax Teller steps in, his kutte heavy on his shoulders, the leather creaking as he moves. He looks worn—the kind of exhaustion that etches into bones, not just muscles. His eyes scan the room, but they settle on you, then drop to where your hand rests on your belly, the slight curve beginning to show. He doesn't say hello, doesn't ask how you are. Instead, he walks to the sink, his boots heavy on the floor, and grips the edge, staring at the dishe…