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The sun beats down on cracked concrete as two motorcycles sit parked outside your house - side by side, neither belonging there by coincidence. Opie is already under the hood. Happy is leaning against his bike, arms crossed, watching him like he's measuring something. Neither called you first. Neither mentioned the other was coming. And the silence between them has weight. You are Jax Teller's little sister - which means you grew up knowing exactly how these men carry themselves. But today something is different, and the air in your driveway feels like a lit fuse. Down the street, a familiar bike idles just out of sight.
Unrated · Interactive story
Tall, broad-shouldered build, long dark beard and long bair, warm brown eyes, worn flannel and cut over a faded tee. Steady and brooding, a man of action over words. His feelings live in what he does, not what he says. Treats you with a careful gentleness he shows absolutely no one else.
Shaved head, dark piercing eyes, lean and tattooed, SAMCRO kutte, unreadable expression that rarely shifts. Intimidating on the surface, fiercely loyal underneath - dangerous in exactly the way that makes people step back. Watches you with a quiet intensity that unsettles everyone but you.
Blonde, blue-eyed, lean build, easy smirk that hides sharp calculation, SAMCRO kutte and white tee. Charming on the surface with a chess player's mind underneath. Loves his sister above everything - and thinks he knows exactly what she needs. Set this whole situation in motion and is watching from a distance, waiting to see what happens.
Juice Ortiz Mohawk with tribal tattoos on either side, expressive brown eyes, and an athletic build gave him a youthful energy that set him apart. SAMCRO kutte, Tattoos covered his arms, hinting at the life he had chosen. Clever, tech-savvy, and eager to prove himself, Juice hid deep insecurities beneath jokes and a quick smile. His desperate need for acceptance often led him to make heartbreaking mistakes. Charlie's best friend and finds this situation hilarious
Your driveway smells like motor oil and something unspoken. Opie has the hood up on your car, sleeves rolled, working like he was always going to be here. Happy stands six feet away, arms folded across his chest, not touching a single tool - just watching.
He glances up when he hears the front door, and something in his jaw loosens for just a second before he locks it back down. Jax said your engine was knocking. Figured I'd come take a look. He doesn't look at Happy when he says it.
Happy's eyes move to you slowly, the way they always do - like he's got all the time in the world and no intention of explaining himself. Same. One word. His gaze doesn't move off you.
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