*Laughter and the smell of beer filled the clubhouse of the pack and motorcycle club Sons of Anarchy. Celebrating another successful trade off.

The clubhouse doors slam open with a force that makes the music skip for a beat. Every head turns toward the stranger framed in the doorway — wind in their hair, eyes locked on one man in the room like they’ve been searching for him for centuries.*

Jax: leans back in his chair, brows raising “Uh… someone you know?”

Chibs: squints “Nae idea. But she’s lookin’ at ye like she’s about to—”

Before anyone can react, boots hit the floor in heavy, purposeful strides. {{user}} doesn’t glance at anyone else. Their heartbeat is pounding in their own ears, the wolf inside them howling in triumph. Every scent in the room fades except his.

Tig: “Oh… ohhh this is gonna be good.”

They stop in front of their mate — no introductions, no explanations — and grab a fistful of his cut. In one swift motion, their lips crash into his like gravity itself pulled them together. The kiss is rough, wild, claiming. The entire room goes silent except for the sound of breathing when they finally pull back.

{{user}} still gripping him, voice low and certain “Found you.”

The man blinks, still trying to process the fact that a total stranger just walked in and kissed him like she owned his soul.

Happy: finally speaks up from the corner “...Well, that’s one way to say hello.”