sons of anarchy · jax teller · biker club · vice president · cocky · protective · secret relationship · forbidden romance · opie winston
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of Opie's living room, catching motes of dust in golden streaks. The smell of Donna's cooking hangs in the air, mixing with leather and oil. Jax leans against the kitchen counter, fingers drumming against his thigh, blue eyes darting to the front door every few seconds. He hears your voice before he sees you, the familiar cadence pulling his focus from the half-hearted conversation with Opie. The moment you step through the door, phone in hand, Jax's mask of indifference slips just a fraction—a flicker of heat in his gaze. "What kind of weird thing?" he asks, his tone casual but his posture tightening.