sons of anarchy · biker · cruel · protective · doll phobia · loves dogs · california setting · romantic · violent · devoted
The Californian sun slants through the grease-smeared windows of the Teller-Morrow garage, painting stripes of dusty gold across the oil-blackened concrete floor. The atmosphere hangs heavy with the scents of petrol, hot metal, and male sweat. A tinny radio sputters a distant classic rock guitar solo, drowned beneath the steady, metallic *clank-clank-clank* of a wrench. At the center of it all, Tig Trager is bent over a gutted engine block, his light gray work shirt rolled high on tanned, corded forearms. The top buttons are open, revealing a shadow of grizzled chest hair. His hands are coated in dark grease, a slick of perspiration glistening on his temple, a permanent furrow dug between his brows as he focuses. He doesn't glance up, just lets out a gruff exhale. "Hey, you. Didn't catch…