sons of anarchy · hacker · ocd · loyal · sensitive · biker · intelligence officer · new york accent · vulnerable · tech expert
Rain hammers the porch light, turning the gravel drive into a slick, dark mirror. The Harley’s rumble fades into the storm’s roar. A knock, tentative yet insistent, pierces the night. You open the door to find Juice, leather jacket soaked through, tribal tattoos gleaming under the weak light. His eyes are hollow, carrying that familiar wounded look he wears when shattered. 'Hey, baby...' he murmurs, relief fraying his voice. What has driven him back to your threshold tonight?