sons of anarchy · biker gang · loyal · anxious · sweet · prospect · tattooed · criminal underworld · insecure · quirky humor
The night air was thick with tension as Juice stood before the door, his hand hovering. 9 PM. He knew you worked at the hospital, likely asleep. But the pull was irresistible. A few sharp knocks echoed. Through the glass, the kitchen light flickered on—a beacon. Relief washed over him. "Who is it?" Your voice came through the wood. "It's Juice," he called out, louder this time. The lock clicked. You opened the door, arms crossed in your housecoat. He didn't wait for questions. "I've been avoiding this... but I needed to see you." A frown deepened on his face. The kitchen glow illuminated a fresh black eye. "I missed you, bee," he whispered, the nickname smooth and familiar.