#juan carlos ortiz fanfiction

[ravennaortiz]

Lost and Found: Chapter 2

This is a twisting tale of love, family and loyalty told through present tense and flashbacks.

Trigger Warnings: General themes of the show( death, violence, drinking etc), Minors DNI, implied sexual assault in later chapters.

Jax was sitting at his kitchen table drinking whiskey as he thought over the last few months. A knock at his door pulled him from the rabbit hole he was going down.

“Laddie” greeted Chibs as Jax opened the door. “Hey Chibs” replied Jax as he stepped back to let his VP in before shutting the door and making his way back to the kitchen. “Drink” inquired Jax as he got another glass out. “Course” replied Chibs as he sat down. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes before Chibs spoke.

“How much longer are you gonna punish the kid?” asked Chibs his eyes searching Jax’s face for clues. “I don’t know what you mean brother” replied Jax his stare icy. “A week was all he was supposed to serve Jax. It’s been almost five months now and on top of that you have him sharing a cell with an AB shot caller. No protection and not letting anyone from the club visit but you is extremely wrong and cruel” stated Chibs calmly as he lit a cigarette.

“Changed my mind. As President of this club I get to do that. “ shrugged Jax as he leaned back in his chair avoiding eye contact for fear his eyes would betray him. “True. As President doing that makes it hard for your brothers to trust you” replied Chibs not wanting to set Jax off. Which here lately was getting easier and easier to do unfortunately. Jax frowned as he stared at the floor of his kitchen. He knew what Chibs was saying was true. He had seen the wary looks from the guys and had heard the murmurs of him being out of control.

“You’re not just punishing Juice ya know Laddie?” murmured Chibs soothingly after a few moments of silence. Jax swallowed hard. The words stabbing him like a knife. He had never meant for Scarlett to become a casualty again at his hands. He regretted nothing more than every tear she had shed during these last few months as well as the way he told her to just pick another club member to sleep with when she had confronted him about how long Juice was going to be locked up. “I never meant to Chibs. I tried telling her that again today but she just told me she hated me and always will. That I was just like Clay” replied Jax sorrowfully as he put his head in his hands. Chibs sighed as he rubbed his own face trying to figure out the right words to repair the damage.

“Jackie Boy” stated Chibs firmly causing Jax to look up into his fiery gaze. “I’m going to speak and you are going to sit there  be quiet and listen to every hard truth. I’m then gonna leave and let you choose your course.” He stated as he waited for Jax’s acknowledgement. Jax nodded. He trusted Chibs advice more than anyone. “Juice made one mistake. He was trying to protect the club, he has a good heart. He wasn’t trying to be malicious or destroy us. Yes he should have come to you immediately but he was scared and I can’t blame him. His punishment for his mistake is insane when you consider the fact you, I and Tig have done something similar and Tig also killed Donna. Tig barely got a slap on the wrist for that and you kept that information from Opie and the rest of the club for a long time which makes you just as compliant in my book.” Chibs paused to let Jax process his words before he continues.

  “Not to mention all the positive things Juice has done for the club. Erasing charges, setting up security, performing CPR on your sister as she lay dying on the floor of her own house after Clay sent those Nomads to attack her. An attack brought on because you opposed Clay on gun running and because you had undermined him in front of the club when you approved of Juice and hers relationship after he had tried to forbid it. Juice sat with her for weeks in that hospital room, then taking care of her at home, cleaning her house, hunting those nomads down, helping you get the evidence on Clay and getting you that President patch. The same patch which you are using to abuse him by the way…… just like Clay” finished Chibs as he took a deep breath. His emotions had started to get the better of him at the end causing him to rant some as he leaned into Jax’s space with his finger in his face.

Jax was silent. The words stung but he knew Chibs was right. Memories flooded Jax’s head taking him through the horrors of that day he thought he had lost his sister forever. Those memories haunted him just like Opie’s, Bobby’s and Tara’s final moments. Jax shook his head not wanting to be on this path. Not wanting to confront his demons and the knowledge he had let his need for power and revenge cloud his judgement and let him take things too far. Jax barely registered Chibs patting his shoulder before he left. All he could think was how did we get here and how did it all go so wrong.

***************************************************************

It was dark by the time Scarlett pulled her car into the garage parking alongside Juices Dyna. She sighed as she ran her hand over the leather of the seat as she let the good times play through her mind. The first time they met, beach days, video game and pizza nights, their transition from friends to a couple, him taking care of her after her hospital stay, her moving in with him and everything in between. Scarlett stepped back, brushing the tears away before moving to the door and going inside.

Loud metal music and the smell of cooking food lured Scarlett to the kitchen where she knew she would find their good friends Half-sack and Rat like she had every night for the last five months. Juice had wanted to make sure she never came home to a silent, dark and empty house. While she appreciated that deep down she knew this house would never feel right without his voice, his laughter, his love….without him.

She leaned in the doorway of the kitchen lost in thought. Juice had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure she would be comfortable and safe. He had signed over his bike, house and his share of clear passages to her not to mention transferring her all the money in his accounts. She remembered telling him it wasn’t necessary but he had just smiled sadly and told her it was just in case.

“Shit Scar” yelled Rat as he turned around finally noticing her as he dropped the plate in his hands and made Half-Sack jump too. “Sorry guys” apologized Scarlett as she stepped into the kitchen with a small laugh as she picked the plate up. “It’s okay” replied Rat as he shook his head with a grin and took the plate from her. “Sit down, dinners almost done” he added. “How is Juice?” asked Half-Sack as he took stuff out of the oven. “As okay as he can be given the unfair and barbaric punishment Jax is dealing out” replied Scarlett. “What did you two do today?” asked Scarlett changing the subject. Scarlett listened to the two talk while they ate dinner before departing to her room early.

What if I’m not strong enough to handle this, thought Scarlett as she lay in her bed until she cried herself to sleep.

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#sons of anarchy #juice ortiz #soa fanfic #chibs telford #jax teller #sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice x oc #ravennasoc #juice x scarlett teller #scarletttelleroc #juice soa #soa #jax teller fic #soa headcanons #juan carlos ortiz fanfiction #juice imagine #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz x oc #ravennasmasterlist #juice ortiz appreciation

[drakoneve]

Destined Meetings

request: Hey, do you think you could write something where the reader is related to tig somehow, and they're in charming for work or college and they start a relationship with juice? Cute and a little angsty at first?

pairing: Juice Ortiz x Trager!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: club crimes, reader's mom isn't the best + suggested childhood trauma, alcohol and drug (maryj) use

a/n: there will be another part for sure, but i might make this a bit of a mini-series, lmk what you think. happy reading!

Tig hardly ever talked about it, but he'd been married once. He would rather die than ever admit he loved anyone but Dawn and Fawn, but he loved her. And you, his sweet, sweet Y/n.

His heart clenched at the thought of you. You were only two years old at the time of the accident. The day your mother decided she had had enough of Tig and the life he came with and that she needed to run.

It was that day, when your mother pulled out of Charming and never looked back. She only made it two towns over before she took a reckless turn right off an overpass into oncoming traffic.

Tig could remember the look on Unser's face as he approached the older man in the TM parking lot like yesterday, and how he wished he could go back and convince your mom not to go. Or to leave you, at least.

Unser had just began working with the club back then, and this case in particular had always stuck with him. A woman trying to escape her outlaw husband with their baby daughter who ends up getting into a horrific accident that ends up killing them both? One of the saddest stories Unser had ever heard.

Except for the fact none of it was true.

Because there you stood, alive and well, right in front of the Chief's desk.

"I know it sounds crazy," you shake your head, hopeful look on your face. "I wouldn't believe it either, actually. And I don't really have any proof other than my memories, but I'm sure it's him."

The aging polaroid in you had provided him of a much younger Tig and a woman he recognizes to be your mother back when she was pregnant with you.

"No, no," he waves your worries away. "I believe you. In fact, I remember your mother, vaguely, and you look a lot like her."

You grimace. "Yeah, I've been told a few times. So do you know where I can find Alexander?"

Chief Unser pulls a pen from his shirt pocket and begins writing on a slip of paper on his desk. "This is the address of the Teller-Morrow, the automotive shop your dad works at. I would take you there myself, but I'm swamped here."

"Oh, it's no issue," you shrug and take the slip of paper. "I can get there myself. Thank you for everything, though."

You turn and begin to leave when Unser calls for you to stop.

"I forgot to mention, your dad goes by 'Tig.'"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Juice stretched out his arms and popped his neck while he wiped his hands with a rag. Two weeks of waiting for one part was finally over, and he could get this damn Taurus out of the shop. He tossed the rag into his toolbox when a sleek black car comes rumbling into the lot.

He leaves the garage to get a closer look and notices the car is actually a classic, a well taken care of (or well restored) '69 Chevy. While he admires the car he notices you, too.

Your hair is partly clipped back, with enough loose enough to frame your face in a casual look. You're pretty, and admittedly he'd be more distracted by you but Juice can tell by the look on your face you're nervous. Juice would know, it's a look he's had to learn to hide.

By sight and sound nothing seemed to be wrong with your car, and Juice can't help but wonder why you're here.

You shut the engine off and exit your vehicle, all the while silently composing yourself. Heart thudding in your chest, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

Juice takes the moment you shut the door to approach further.

"Hello," he greets politely, friendly smile on his face. "I'm Juice, and I'll be taking care of you today. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, no," you shake your head and laugh nervously. "Nothing's wrong with her. I'm actually-"

You pause, close your eyes for a second and bite the inside of your bottom lip. Juice can't help but watch you fondly, finding you oddly adorable.

Finally you open your eyes and flash a bright, genuine smile.

Damn, I'm made, he thinks.

"This is gonna sound completely insane," you explain, nervously clasping your hands together. "But, um, I'm looking for Alexa- well, no, Tig, Tig Trager."

Juice raises his brows. "Tig? Uh, I don't know if now's the best time."

It's true, he's currently in Oakland with Jax and Chibs on quick business.

"Look, I know it's inconvenient and you don't know me," you plead. You're closer now and Juice can smell your sweet perfume and practically feel your hopefulness. "But until a couple months ago I had no idea my dad was even alive. And then I found out I was here for weeks before realizing he's here, too."

Your dad? There has to be a story there. Juice raises his hands to either side of your arms, holding you still in hopes to assure you.

"It's okay," he says sternly, but in an endearing way. "Tig's not here right now but he should be soon, so let's head on inside and you can tell me a little bit about you. Just to be sure, no offense."

You smile, relieved to be believed to some extent rather than none. "Thank you, Juice. Thank you."

Juice leads you into the Teller-Morrow through the garage entrance into the larger building. From what you could see on the outside you wouldn't have imagined such a spacious clubhouse inside.

Inside were several pool tables, a couch with mini pieces about, a bar with stools, and other tables each with their own set of chairs. Decorations littered the walls and floors and you laughed to yourself as you noted a nearly full ashtray on almost every surface and a wall completely dedicated to mugshots.

Juice leads you to the bar where he gestures for you to sit as he makes his way around. You slip onto a stool and watch patiently as Juice finds two glasses and turns to you.

"What's your preference?"

You shrug, "Whatever, I'm not partial. On the rocks, though."

He serves you and pours his own drink before setting the bottle down and leaning on the bar on his elbows in front of you.

"So tell me about you," Juice presses softly. He can tell by your fingers circling the rim of your glass that you're not excited for this conversation but he has no choice. "You said you've been here for a few weeks, where'd you live before?"

"Nevada, mostly," you tell him before sipping on your drink. "My mother moved us around a couple times and we lived in Colorado for a while before eventually settling in Sparks."

"Why'd you guys move around?"

You drain the rest of your drink quickly in hopes it'll support you through this conversation. Juice begins to refill your glass without being asked.

"I didn't know it then, but my mom was running from the Sons," you confess.

Juice's eyes widen slightly as he looked you over. What could you know about the club? They were notorious around Charming sure, but with their recent run ins with the ATF has the club struggling and making choices they wouldn't normally make.

You continue, "It wasn't until I graduated high school and I left that she told me my dad was actually alive. Then she told me about the Sons of Anarchy, and everything else I did on my own."

Juice nods, unsure of what to say. He nurses his drink for a moment before reaching for your hand.

"This life is complicated, but we're a family here."

The gesture, simple as it is, riles up all the pent up feelings you've mastered all your life comes rushing forward as tears brim your eyes.

"Family," you repeat and pull your hand from Juice to wipe your tears. "What a weird concept?"

The two of you talk well into the evening and you end up migrating to the couch with a bottle and a large bowl of buttery popcorn. Juice made good company. He's genuine, gunny, and from the way he talks you can tell the Sons are something special to him.

He tells you about himself in turn for the vulnerable information you've given him. You learn he was born and raised in New York before coming to Charming, and he has a little sister behind in the city. Juice tells you he works in the TM garage alongside what he does for the club.

"I'm not stupid," you tell him once you notice his hesitance. "It's not hard to find information on the club from the locals around here."

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I'm sure. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

Before you can the rumbling of bikes coming into the TM parking lot distracts you. Instinctively you grabbed Juice's hand, but let go just as fast as you'd grabbed him. Luckily before he can say anything the door bursts open and income more Sons.

The first is a younger blond man with piercing blue eyes and you notice the President patch on his left. He greets Juice happily before his eyes look to you, and he looks confused but seemingly brushes it off and goes to the bar.

Your dad walks in near arm in arm with another handsome man with scarred cheeks, obviously older than he is in the polaroid you own, but otherwise he seems the same. Its as if he can feel your gaze as he turns to meet his blue eyes to your own.

You stand, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart in your chest. "Hi, Tig," you greet, silently cursing the waver in your voice. Immediately the polaroid is out of your back pocket and in your hand. "My name's Y/n, and my mom's Y/m/n."

He takes the polaroid from you without a word and holds it carefully in his hands. His friend has stepped away towards Juice, likely for questioning.

"I saw Unser earlier today," you continue on. "He told me that I have a grave here in Charming, so does mom. Funny, considering she always told me you were the dead one."

You take a shaky breath in, trying to keep from bursting into tears. "I just... I wanted you to know I'm not dead, very much alive. I don't, like, expect anything from you I just knew I had to say something."

Tig finally breaks away from the polaroid to meet your eyes again, and it makes you feel a bit better to see his blue eyes are as tear filled as your own.

He raises one hand to cup your cheek, thumb moving to wipe your tears. "Losing you was the worst pain of my life," he admits softly.

His words crumble your resolve, the walls you'd spent your adolescence building to protect yourself fell faster than they were constructed. You practically fall into his arms, and the two of you break down as you hold each other.

As you sob into Tig's chest he merely cradles you the way he wishes he'd been able to all these years. The way he deserved to have been there for you. He holds you tight against him like he's afraid you'll dissipate and it'll be decades before he sees you again.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he tells you. "We're gonna be okay."

This time, he's not going to be letting you go so easy.

#juice ortiz x reader #juice x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz x trager!reader #juice ortiz x y/n #soa juice x reader #soa juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos ortiz x reader #juan carlos x reader #juan carlos ortiz x you #soa x you #soa x reader #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #tig trager imagine #dad!tig trager x daughter!reader #fluff #juice x reader angst #juice x reader fluff #soa juice x you #soa juice x y/n #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x y/n #soa x y/n #sons of anarchy angst fic #sons of anarchy fluff #sons of anarchy au

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Denial - Juice Ortiz x Reader One Shot

A/N: A quick little one shot for Juicy pants - something sweeter this time! I am still working on Marked for Carnage but my life is a little hectic right now. Fingers crossed, next week the next chapter will be up. Please feel free to request a one shot if you wish! I will write for almost anyone from SOA.

Warnings: alcohol, swearing, mentions of sex (off page), kissing, smoking

Word Count: 1466 words

You bopped your head along to the music as you pulled the bottle opener from your back pocket, popping the tops off the beers in front of you. "Here you go, guys," you said, placing them on the bar in front of Tig and Chibs. "Thank you, sweetheart," Tig tipped his bottle your way whilst Chibs gave you a nod. You moved down the bar, serving members and the sweetbutts that hung off them. You had been working the bar for SAMCRO parties for many months now after your friend had begged you to tag along one night after they were down a person. You reluctantly agreed, having heard stories from other girls you knew were croweaters about how rowdy the parties could be and handsy the guys were. But surprisingly it had been a fun night and any guys that did try to hit on you, actually seemed to take no for an answer.

No, there was only one guy in this building you would want putting his hands on you. And he currently made his way to the bar, his eyes meeting yours and a smirk on his face. "What can I get ya, Juice?" you asked, already knowing his answer as you reached down into the fridge below the bar to grab a beer. "Beer please, beautiful," he winked, causing your skin to prickle with heat. Ignoring him, you popped the top and handed it over. He took a long sip and you watched the column of his throat dip as he swallowed, your blood rushing to your core and heart beginning to thump harder. He put his beer on the bar and smiled, aware of just how much he affected you. Crossing his forearms against the wood he lent in. "Busy tonight, sweetness?" he asked. You rolled your eyes, flicking the dishcloth over your shoulder out to lightly snap his arm. "Always busy, sweetness," you mocked before moving on to fulfill another order.

Juice stayed at the bar, watching as you moved around, taking orders, making people laugh, smoothly moving in between the other girls and the Prospects who were also working. He was playing it cool, but in reality his palms were drenched with sweat and his stomach was alive with butterflies. He could stand and watch you all night long, no croweater or pool game even a lick of competition to you. He felt someone elbow his side. Turning to face Chibs, he nodded in greeting. "A little distracted tonigh', aren't ye Juicy?" his brother asked. Juice just shrugged and had another long sip of his beer. "Been a long week, kinda tired," he lilted, trying unsuccessfully to pull his eyes from you. You passed a straw over to Piney with a laugh and shake of your head before you were heading back over to him, the sway in your hips and crook of your mouth making his pants suddenly tighter.

"You want another one?" you asked, tossing the dishcloth over your shoulder again. "I'll take whatever you want to give me," he prompted, causing your mouth to open. Juice was never usually this flirty at parties. You heard a scoff from a few seats down. "Would you two just hurry up and fuck already?!" Tig challenged, putting a cigarette into his mouth and lighting it. Chibs began to laugh into his drink. You huffed and crossed your arms. "What the hell are you talking about, Tiggy?" you sassed, lifting up their drinks and giving the table a wipe down. "You two," Tig motioned his beer to point between you and Juice. "The undressing with the eyes, the flirting…. It's painful," he blinked slowly. "Just do us all a favour and fuck each other." You let out a short laugh, your nerves setting in. What Tig didn’t know was that you and Juice had already had a roll in the sheets. Many… many… many… rolls in the sheets.

But it wasn't something you had made public purely because it was casual and you didn’t want to be seen as someone that any of the guys could have. Juice had agreed because he was fine with upkeeping his bachelor status with his brothers. You weren't exclusive but you certainly had not been with anyone else. You were unsure about Juice, and honestly you didn’t want to ask, but you were both being careful and it was just a bit of fun. But the last few times it had happened it had felt a little more than casual to you. It always happened at your place, usually after a SAMCRO party. The first few times Juice would usually leave pretty quickly after - which had been fine with you - but now he had made the choice to stay the night and usually for breakfast. Which meant you got to talk more, which in turn meant you got to know him better. And that had sparked some unexpected and intense feelings pretty quickly. You had been ignoring them because it seemed like Juice was on the casual train still and you didn’t want to fuck up what you guys had going.

"There is no undressing with the eyes, and Juice flirts with everyone," you shrugged, holding your hands out to lean against the bar. "Yeah right, and I'm the King of England," Tig rolled his eyes. "Can you believe the denial we're hearing right now?" he asked Chibs. "Ye better make a move soon though, swee'heart," Chibs chimed in. "If you don’t make a claim, someone else will." He and Tig got off their stools and moved over to the chairs where Bobby was lounging with a sweetbutt in his lap. You laughed humourlessly, before turning to move away. A hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. You looked up at Juice. "He was just kidding," he said, a forced smile on his face. You nodded and tried to smile back, shrugging your shoulders. "It's fine, Juice," you tried to step away but he held his grip. "You know there's no one else, right?" he asked, his wide brown eyes searching yours. "So what if there was?" you asked. Juice shook his head, gently pulling your arm so you would step back closer to him.

"I'm telling you, right now, there is no one else," he was dead serious, dragging his hand down your arm to lightly grasp your hand, giving you enough freedom to pull out of his grip if you wanted. "What are you doing, Juice?" you asked, looking over your shoulder to make sure the other girls were getting the drinks served. "You have to have noticed that things have been different," he pondered. "Like, a good kind of different." You swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. "I have but…" you lick your lips, Juice's eyes dropping to track the movement. "I didn’t think you did. Or that it's what you would want to be happening." Juice smiled. "You," he ran his thumb over the tops of your knuckles. "Are the only one I want to be going with. Going home to," he confessed. You blinked rapidly. "Is that ok with you?" he asked. You smiled nervously, narrowing your eyes. "It's definitely ok with me, but are you sure?" you asked apprehensively. He tugged on your hand lightly. "Come here, baby. Stake your claim," he stepped back and gestured towards himself. You chuckled, shaking your head, still unsure if this was real or some kind of cruel joke.

Stepping around the bar, you walked to him nervously. When you were close enough, Juice reached out to grasp your waist, pulling you into him quickly. You laughed, colliding with his chest. Grasping the lapels of his cut you tried to ignore the feeling of surprised eyes on you. "You're sure about this?" you ask again, making Juice sigh. "Positive," he said, squeezing your sides teasingly. "No more sweetbutts," you remind him. "And I know that you have that run clause thing but that shit doesn’t sit right with me either," you admit to him. "Baby," he tilts his head, eyes never leaving yours. "I haven’t been with any sweetbutts for months. Ask the other guys. The first time you dragged me through your front door and threw me down on your bed was it for me. There's been no one else. And won’t be. I don’t give a shit about the run clause." You smiled softly, heart warm with his confession. "Well in that case," you pulled him by his cut to meet you in a searing kiss, smiling at Juice's surprised sigh while his hands moved down to slip into your back pockets. "Atta boy, Juicy!" you heard Tig shout. Bobby cursed as he fished into his pocket, pulling out two $10 notes and handing one each to Tig and Chibs.

#soa #sons of anarchy #juice soa #juan carlos juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fic #juice ortiz oneshot #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz x reader #juice x reader

[garbinge]

Chalk Drawings

Happy Lowman & Juice Ortiz & Platonic!Reader Jax Teller & Teller!Sister Reader Opie Winston x Teller!Sister Reader

Day 22 from these April Prompts: Chalk Drawings

Summary: When Happy and Juice are on protection duty and the AC is broken you and the kids take to the outside to escape the sweaty prison that’s Jax’s house as you wait for your brother and partner to come home. 

Words: 1.9k 

A/N: I’ve been having a rough couple of days so I’m not really sure what this is but, I hope you all enjoy! lol.

Warnings: pretty fluffy (for me and my writing lol), reader has a daughter with Opie (no name given), no use of Y/N, slight angst/tension, alludes to death/murder slightly, nothing that’s not canon-level. 

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the sun was shining, there were fluffy clouds in the sky that were shaped like cotton candy. The only downside was that the California heat had no mercy and apparently neither did Jax’s air conditioner. It had broken early in the morning and by the afternoon the whole place felt like a sauna. Fans and open windows did nothing against the real feel of 93 degrees and there were only so many popsicles you willingly wanted to give to all the kids. This is what brought you outside on the driveway that had been covered by shade all day so it was luckily not burning hot. You had the full Winston x Teller group today, Kenny, Ellie, Abel, and your 3 year old daughter with Opie. The club was in partial lockdown due to business with the Cartel. Partial lockdown usually just meant no one was left alone, everyone who was someone had protection on them, which meant it was easier for people to stay in groups. Hence why you had all the kids right now. Gemma was out with Tara grocery shopping for the house and had taken Tig with them just to keep a close eye. This left you with Juice and Happy while Jax and Opie went on a run together with a few of the other guys. 

The sprinkler was going on the grass, something for the kids to run through if they got too hot, but currently the group of them were on the driveway drawing with chalk. Abel and Kenny had paired up leaving your daughter to rest in between your legs with a piece of chalk in her hands while Ellie sat to your left doing the same. You started doodling with one of the pieces of chalk that was scattered along the driveway to pass the time as well while Happy and Juice leaned against their bikes, keeping watch all of you. 

“You wanna get your hands dirty?” You held up the pink piece of chalk and called out to the two bikers. 

Juice was quick to smile but deny the request, his way of trying to look tough. You clocked it immediately because just yesterday he was eating a spongebob popsicle off the ice cream truck when he was the only one on your watch detail. 

“Yes I do.” Happy said instantly and eagerly as he pushed off his bike. He was quick to grab the chalk from you and begin doodling on the pavement. You thought you’d be shocked at his instant agreement to join you on the ground with the pastel art tools but surprisingly, it was exactly what you expected. Happy knelt on the pavement, one knee touching the ground while the other was being used as an armrest for the arm that wasn’t creating a chalk masterpiece. 

“C’mon Juice.”  You nodded your head to wave him over. 

“Yea, c’mon Juice!” Your daughter called out with a smile. 

You smirked at that and so did Juice as he walked over to you both. The little girl in your lap holding out the pink piece of chalk up to the biker. 

“Thanks,” His smirk not falling as he grabbed the chalk from the girl. 

“S’my favorite color.” She beamed at you and said the color’s name to show how smart she was. “Pink.” 

“It’s Juice’s too.” You teased and patted to the free space next to you as he shook his head and blushed. “Show me what you got, Juicy.” 

He started drawing stick figures, graffiti words, tribal drawings like his tattoos. 

“Can you draw me a flower?” Your daughter was quick to crawl out of your lap and sit in front of Juice. 

“I can try.” He began to try and draw some version of a flower, although it was looking more like a blob. 

“That’s not very good.” She tilted her head and frowned at it. 

You called out your daughters name, a warning to be nice although it didn’t do much. 

“Why does your hair look like that.” She asked as she drew over Juice’s flower creating her own masterpiece. 

Juice practically spit out the sip of water he just took at the girl’s question. 

“Why don’t you go see what Abel and Kenny are drawing, huh? Go ask Happy your questions.” You interrupted to give Juice a break. The girl shrugged and skipped her way over to the other group on the driveway. You knew Happy could handle the questions and would give them right back which entertained her. 

“Can you teach me how to draw that?” You heard her voice behind you as she stood over Happy’s shoulders. 

“I sure can.” He nodded and handed her the yellow piece of chalk before the sounds of the chalk hitting the pavement filled the air.

“Mommy look!” She called out and you turned to see the tons of smiley faces drawn on the ground, some smiling, some crying, some grinning. Your eyes jumped to Happy and back to the drawings a few times. No one came out and told you what Happy’s name meant, but being a Teller you had been around the clubhouse enough to see Happy hit the ring which meant seeing the array of smiley tats across his lower abdomen. It didn’t take a genius to put it together. 

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or be mortified, the kids had no idea what it meant but there was a part of you that felt like there was something eerie about it. 

“Nice drawings.” Your eyebrows raised at him with a smirk as your nostrils flared. 

Happy smiled, oblivious to your sarcasm and nodded.

The sound of motorcycle engines filled the air, but there was no sign of who it was yet. Happy and Juice quick to stand up, Happy picking up your young daughter while you got up as well. He handed the girl to you before walking to the end of the driveway with Juice. As you situated the girl in your arms you began to walk near the garage door and called the rest of the kids over to you. There was a pit in your stomach, you grabbed your nephew and placed him behind you and told Kenny and Ellie to do the same as you guided them as well, using yourself as a human shield to them as you typed in the code to the garage door. 

The bikes got closer and as the sound got louder so did your thumping heart. The garage door was taking its sweet time to open, you tried your best to keep your wits about you as to not scare the kids but it was hard when Happy and Juice were reaching for there pieces. 

“Let’s play a game!” Your head snapped to the kids as the garage door opened. “Go inside and we’ll play hide-n-seek! Only rule is you MUST stay in the house. You hide and I’ll find you!” 

The kids giggled and immediately ran inside the house, your daughter wasn’t eager to leave your arms to play so you kept her in your grip, her head rested on your shoulder which soon dropped in relief as you saw the reaper on the bikes that were approaching. You recognized both bikes, your brother and Opie’s. A breath you didn’t realize you had been holding in let out and you closed your eyes in reassurance. 

Happy and Juice fell back quickly too, their relief looking a little different than your own. As both men pulled up to the curb and backed their bikes up, you started to walk down the driveway. Opie walked over to Happy and Juice likely to fill in the crew on what had just happened while Jax walked up to you. 

“You look like you just saw a ghost.” His long blond hair blew in the hot heat as his smirk grew. 

“I thought I was about to become one.” The only reason you let the joke out was because within the few minutes of your daughter being in your arms she had fallen asleep. 

He frowned and picked his hand up to tuck your daughters hair behind her ear. 

“I’ve been on edge, heard the bikes.” You shook your head and looked down. 

“We figured it all out, we’re fine, you’re safe.” His eyes jumped from yours to the girl in your arms, “all of you.” 

Jax’s eyes looked down at the concrete to see the chalk drawings on the ground, clocking the smiley faces immediately and let out a chuckle. 

“Really, Hap?” Jax called out to the man who smiled and nodded. 

At this point, Opie was walking over, his tall body standing over you in seconds as he placed a kiss on your head. 

“Hey, you okay?” His brows furrowed picking up on your tension. 

“We spooked her.” Jax teased you as he pinched your elbow. 

Opie’s eyes moved back to yours looking for confirmation. 

“I’m fine.” You argued and looked up to Opie who smiled knowing that the sibling rivalry was coming through in your short worded sentence. 

“Where the kids?” He asked still smiling. 

“Inside, I told them we’re playing hide-n-seek if you want to go find them.” You knew both men would pick up on the fact you told them to hide and probably why but before either of them could get to the bottom of why you were so on edge besides the obvious, your daughter was stirring awake. 

“Look who's here.” You whispered to her as she sat up in your arms and you turned so she could see her father. 

“Hi Daddy.” Her voice was still half asleep. 

“Hi baby.” Opie’s arms extended out so he could grab her. “I drew smileys with Happy.” She rested her head against his shoulder in an attempt to go back to sleep. Opie looked down at the pavement and then back to you. 

“She also asked Juice about his haircut.” You crossed your arms. 

“It looks funny.” She said still at a mumble causing Opie and Jax to laugh. 

“I think it does too.” Jax started to walk inside the house. “Ready or not, here I come!” He called out but you knew he was going to grab a drink and a snack from the kitchen before he started to look for the kids. 

“I guess next time we’ll keep Hap with us.” Opie teased as you both started to walk inside while the sound of Juice and Happy’s bikes started. You turned to wave goodbye to both of them before looking back at Opie as you made your way into the garage. 

“Nah, he might be insane but he’s good with the kids and having him around actually puts me at ease.” 

“If this is you at ease, I’d hate to see you tense.” Opie teased you again as the garage door closed. 

“Why don’t you and this jelly bean here go look for the kids.” Your arms still crossed as your eyes rolled. 

“You wanna go find Abel, Ellie, and Kenny?” Opie bounced up and down to wake up his daughter. “I’ll give you a popsicle if you find them all.” His voice raised as he incentivized the girl who was suddenly wide awake. 

“Let’s go!!!” She kicked as he placed her down and she hit the ground running. “C’mon Mom, let’s go!!!” She called out to you. 

Opie smirked and threw his arm around you, “yea, let’s go.” 

#SOA #SOA Fanfic #SOA fanfiction #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfic #happy lowman #juice ortiz #Juan Carlos Ortiz #Jax Teller #opie winston #happy lowman x reader #juice ortiz x reader #Jax teller x sister #opie winston x reader #opie winston x teller sister #opie winston x teller sister reader #teller sister #teller sister reader

[narcolini]

good boy

juice ortiz x gn!reader, 3639 words, 18+

mild nsfw, praise kink (juice), hot n heavy etc, the title says it all

a/n: based on a post ive lost about men being called good boys and therefore dedicated to @drabbles-mc​ because we terrorised ourselves about it being juicy and then here we are. the result! (im not sure who to tag bc this is new territory, but @cositapreciosa​ and @hausofmamadas​ ik u love jc <3)

You don’t get approached in bars. You never, get approached in bars. Not alone, not in groups, not when you’re tagging along with Jen and Tunde for the thirtieth miserable time this year. Something about your expression, you think. How you look when you aren’t thinking at all. It happens so infrequently, actually, that you don’t even realising it’s happening this time. You assume that he, the guy, this dude—navy hoody, black jeans, muscles you can see despite it all— who’s lingering by your shoulder, is just waiting to order. Hovering until he can grab a drink. Or looking for missing friends, or even just—

‘Sorry, I can tuck in if you need to get past.’

‘No, no, I wasn’t,’ he answers, stumbling slightly over the words, ‘I’m not.’ He pauses, breathes. ‘I was trying to speak to you, actually.’

You blank. ‘To me?’

He nods. ‘Probably should’ve said something, instead of just standing here, I know.’

Probably should’ve picked someone else entirely, really. You aren’t making it any easier for him. You can’t even think of something to say while he stands there looking at you, waiting for you to speak.

‘I’m Juice,’ he says, thank God.

So you smile, replying with your name in turn, and add, ‘Here to buy me a drink?’

He scoffs, giving a head shake—a lie—that winds into a nod—the truth—and a smile. Cute. Honest of him. ‘If you want,’ he says, ‘then, yeah.’

‘This one’s fresh,’ you explain, hovering the bottle in front of you briefly, ‘sorry.’ You almost feel bad about that. Poor thing is one bad interaction away from a full-body shutdown by the looks of it.

It doesn’t deter him though, surprisingly. He gestures to the stool beside you. ‘That mean I can’t sit?’

‘No.’ He’s polite, interested but not pushy. He isn’t even touching the seat yet. Just standing a respectable distance away, showing you his dimples, looking you in the eye. As far as men in bars go, he’s doing well. ‘Go ahead,’ you tell him, making an effort to sound warm, inviting. You know how you come across at first. ‘I’ll never say no to good conversation.’

‘God,’ he laughs, ‘no pressure though, right?’

You smile. ‘None at all.’ He’s no idea what he’s saving you from. He could sit and babble for another twenty minutes and it’d still be more interesting than the conversation your friends have been having.

Juice sits beside you, rocking the stool slightly, before flagging the barman down to order his own beer. You watch him take out his wallet—leather, scuffed—then a fold of notes from inside it. Watch him flick through them before selecting a twenty and passing it to the guy.

‘For this, and the next one,’ he explains, pointing to your half-empty drink.

‘Thanks.’ You nod to acknowledge it. ‘You’re sweet.’

He glows, but shakes away the compliment and tries to hide his blush by taking a drink as soon as the bottle’s put in front of him. You do him the mercy of looking away, to Jen and Tunde on your right, while he recovers.

You’re just checking they’re still there, of course, still keeping you company, still in love, still lost in conversation like they’re the only pair in the room. Why you even agree to hang out as a group anymore, you don’t know. The whole dynamic of it has been thrown off balance since they got together, though you expected as much. Encouraged it, really. Shit was a long time coming. Still, they could try to remember you’re here as well, spare you a thought, at least. Change the topic from last nights mini-golf date to something you could actually contribute to, maybe.

When you look back to Juice, he’s waiting with a question brewing behind his lips. You raise a brow to encourage him. Please, anything, say some words, make some jokes, save me.

‘Are you…’ he hesitates, flicking his finger between you and the two on the other side, ‘with them?’

You snort. ‘In a throuple way? Or a third wheel way?’

He nods, answering neither question, but you assume he means the latter and sigh. Deflate. Hide your embarrassment with a caricature of yourself.  

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Well,’ he draws out the word, smile cracking onto his features. ‘I didn’t want to say it but, yeah.’ He laughs. ‘You did look pretty lonely over here, in a third wheel kind of way.’

‘Oh, great.’ You stare ahead and take another swig from your beer. ‘Nice to know my resting bitch face is actually more of a resting desperately-sad face.’

He laughs again and puts his hands up like he’s innocent. The, you said it not me, type of innocence. ‘Just wanted to offer you some company, that’s all,’ he says, before putting his forearms onto the bar and leaning over them. Toward you, almost. Close enough to not have to raise his voice to be heard anymore. He gives you a smile—a sheepish smile, a cute one—like he’s in on something and—

Again. Fuck. That’s twice now. Cute and cute. He’s bringing something out of you, hot-wiring your brain with the round of his cheeks.

‘Bit of a chronic third wheel myself actually,’ he admits.

Hard to believe. His mannerisms alone makes him the most eligible bachelor in the room. Yours ward off suitors like a fairy-tale villain, cursed to brood alone in your castle.

‘Well, solidarity.’ You clink your bottle to the one standing in front of him. ‘And I’ll take the company, thank-you. Will never say no to being the centre of attention.’

You smirk and he returns it, but in a sweeter way, shy again. Is it nerves? Maybe it is nerves, and your fault at that. Or maybe he’s really, earnestly, bad at this, at picking people up in bars. Flirting with no pretences. From the look of him, you would’ve assumed he did this regularly. Often enough to be cocky about it, at least, because, come on, he’s got tattoos on the side of his skull and a mohawk shaved down to an inch. Muscles visible through the cotton of his hoody. He doesn’t look like the sort to be nervous about anything, let alone smooth-talking.

‘You want to get a round of pool?’ he asks, looking over his shoulder. ‘Table’s empty.’

‘Sure.’ No harm in that. It’s certainly more fun than sitting here, listening to Tunde discuss his—wait, yep—his dream wedding again. ‘Let me just, yeah,’ you look from Juice to catch Jen’s eye and explain to her, ‘I’m gonna go school this guy at pool. I’ll be back in a bit.’

She nods, then gives an approving thumbs up that Juice definitely saw, because subtlety has never been her thing, before you turn and follow him toward the table in the corner.

‘Fighting talk,’ he comments as you go, ‘I like it.’

‘Please.’ You touch his shoulder briefly. ‘It’s only fighting talk if I’m exaggerating.’

——————

It takes a few turns for him to believe you. You’ve just potted another ball, the second in a row now, and he’s yet to pocket his first. Painful, yes, but he’s taking it well.

‘Okay,’ he announces, rubbing his brow, ‘so, you’re actually pretty good at this.’

‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ you scold, rounding the corner to line up your next shot. ‘I played in college.’

‘I can tell,’ he says, and he’s impressed by it. Not emasculated, or however the fuck other men might react, but genuinely impressed. Charmed, even. If you’re reading him right. ‘I should’ve picked a different game.’

‘Why? Were you hoping I’d lose and make you feel good about yourself?’

He smiles; it reaches the edges of his eyes. ‘Something like that.’

You’re about to take the next shot, but pause instead, bent over the table still. Just like they do in the movies, right? If he wants to play, then let’s play. You know how you look, you know what he’s seeing. You raise your gaze from the cue ball to him. ‘How about,’ you start, ‘I win, you pay my tab. You win, I pay yours.’

A nervous laugh bubbles out of him. ‘I don’t have a tab,’ he says. Which isn’t a no. And he’s smiling, which is the opposite of no, really.

‘Then you better make one, Juice.’ You strike, balls scattering across the green. ‘Or don’t, cause you’ll be paying mine anyway.’

——————

The game talk works, again, because he improves after that. He’s better, not as good as you, but not embarrassing himself with missed-shots anymore. For a little while—somewhere between the rematch, and the rematch of the rematch—you think that maybe he’ll even dark-horse you and win in the last minute, leaving you to pay for the extra beers he’s powered through.  

But then he pots the black. In the last game, the one you’re playing to really, concretely, finalise the tournament, he pots black. Loses not because you won, but because he was dumb enough to mistake the final ball for his next one. Tragic. Truly.

He collapses once he realises, forehead to the tabletop, and stays there long enough that you’re almost tempted to feel sorry for him. Then you remember yourself, and the tab he’s about to clear for you.

‘Aw,’ you say sarcastically, fake-pouting and all, ‘I’m assuming you didn’t mean to do that?’

He drags himself upright, recovering quick enough to quip, ‘No, yeah, totally wanted to do that. Thought you deserved the win.’

‘Oh really?’

‘I’m being a gentleman,’ he lies, walking the length of the table to stand beside you. He leans against it once he’s there, thighs to the edge, palms stacked on the end of his cue. ‘So, you know, a thank-you would be nice.’

You snort and take the stick from him to stand it with yours. ‘After you pay up,’ you shrug, ‘sure.’

His eyes roll and his head goes with them, but he nods afterwards and pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans.

‘Good boy.’

He meets your gaze, eyes alight, attentive—not the reaction you’d expected, because he’d lost and you were mocking him for it. But he seems unfazed, keen even.

‘I’ll be right back,’ he says.

When he is, tab paid and accounted for, you greet him with the promised, ‘Thank-you, angel.’

And there’s that glisten again, that brightness in his eyes. Now he’s closer, you can see his chest rise too, his breath quickening slightly. He likes it. Oh, he likes it. The praise, the reward, that’s what it is. And you like that he likes it, that’s what that is. Cute, like you’d thought before, playable.

He leans toward you before you’ve decided what to do with it all; his hand on your waist, his mouth angled for yours. Keen. Sweet about it. His eyes are closed already so you let him get a kiss in before slowing things down again. It’s just a peck, really, soft and short.

‘Mmm.’ You push him back, two fingertips to the ridge of his collarbone. ‘I have a thing about PDA,’ you tell him. Specifically, PDA that involves your friends watching you kiss a guy you barely know, against the beer-stained pool table of your local bar. If they weren’t there, you probably would’ve let him. In the bathroom cubicle, you definitely would’ve let him.

‘Yeah, course, whatever.’ He nods quickly, stepping away and adjusting his hoody for no reason at all. Nerves, again. ‘I didn’t mean to, y’know. I’m cool with—’

‘Relax,’ you interrupt before he talks himself into any more distress. ‘I said I have a thing about PDA, not you. You’re good, Juice. I like you.’

The smirk is back, the dimples teetering. ‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ you start for the bar, talking over your shoulder, ‘let me get my jacket.’

——————

You’ve come home with him, or rather, he’s come home with you—and if only he knew what a victory that was. You don’t bring anyone back here. Not before you know them. But there he is, harmless, you’re sure, and lingering in the hallway like he’s surprised to have made it this far himself. Too polite to even take his jacket off.

Maybe he does know, then, maybe he can feel the win and doesn’t know what to do with it yet.

‘You got this place to yourself?’ he asks, hands in his pockets, gaze on the walls. Like the photo frames are that interesting.

‘Yep, dead aunt. Lucky me.’ Both of you know twenty-somethings don’t land apartments like this from hard work alone, but you aren’t here to talk about real estate. There’s no need for pretence or small talk, as far as you’re concerned, everyone knows where it goes from here. You shrug out of your coat and take your shoes off—toes pushing heels—then dump the lot exactly where they always get dumped. ‘You can get comfortable, y’know. I’m not gonna turf you out any time soon.’

You pass him a look which sends him into motion, unlike your words had. Then his jacket comes off, his hoody’s unzipped, grey tee exposed. His boots are un-done and put beside yours with more discipline than you can ever be bothered with—which you figure is manners over habit—and then he’s back to standing and looking around like it’s an art gallery, not a fucking hook up spot.

‘You don’t do this a lot, do you?’ you ask, because you’re starting to worry this is his first one night stand ever and you really aren’t prepared for that. Maybe at some point, yeah, maybe for him, once you know him, but not tonight. Not now.

‘Well,’ it snakes out of him, ‘not a lot. But, y’know, a normal amount.’

Your brow raises. ‘A normal amount?’

He flushes, unable to find and answer—which is fine, because you hadn’t expected one. A normal amount. Sure, Juice.

‘I’ve got beer in the fridge?’

He nods. ‘Thanks.’

So, you'll start with a beer. Hopefully it strips the stiffness from his shoulders and sends it somewhere useful.

‘The name,’ you call from the kitchen, ‘is that because you’re sweet?’

His laugh is quiet in the other room. He’s sitting now, you hope, grabbing a spot on the couch while you aren’t there to make him nervous. ‘Something like that,’ he answers. ‘The guys had a problem with Juan.’

You frown, popping the caps off two beers. ‘The guys?’

He doesn’t answer, so you grab the bottles and chase the question back to him. ‘Juan isn’t exactly hard to say.’

‘Nah,’ he scoffs, ‘but it isn’t exactly MC cool, either.’

You’re glad to see him settled, sitting on the right side of the couch with one arm slung across the back of it. He looks comfortable, finally, like he’s been here before. You sit beside him and pass him his drink, cradling your own in your lap.

‘And Juice is super cool,’ you taunt.

‘Touché.’

You smirk, talking over the neck of the beer before taking a sip, ‘And don’t think we aren’t going to circle back to you being in a motorcycle club, man.’ You scoff. Swallow. ‘Did not see that coming.’

He drinks before answering and you think, for the first time, that you might’ve genuinely hurt his ego with that one. ‘Am I really that pathetic looking?’ he asks, attempting to laugh through it. ‘I get all these tattoos for nothing?’

You tilt your head, consider him again. You never said that. ‘Kindness isn’t pathetic,’ you tell him. ‘I just know MCs aren’t all good like they say they are.’

‘And you think I am?’

Another shift and your head’s against his arm, cheekbone to bicep. ‘I think you can be.’

An exhale—his—heavy and long enough to reach your face. It’s warm, beer and mint.

‘I think you want to be,’ you admit.

His eyes are glued to yours, gleaming again. All he can manage in return is, ‘Yeah?’

Yeah.

And then you’re kissing, you to him this time. Your hand to his jaw, beer necks clinking together somewhere between you both, and he’s responding like you’d told him how to beforehand. Exactly as you like it. Pliant. Restrained. His tongue tucked back, his teeth grazing. The perfect compromise. You pull away long enough to take his bottle from him and leave it, abandoned, with yours on the coffee table, then you’re at him again. Hands and lips and teeth. How could you ever think that this was his first time? Now he’s relaxed into it, it’s obvious. It’s in the taste of him.

‘Normal amount,’ you breathe, putting it into his mouth, all heat and disbelief. ‘And you kiss like that?’

There’s a noise from his throat, one that escaped before he could attempt a real answer. A low moan in place of a question. Is that a good thing, you imagine he’d say, do you like it?

‘So good,’ you tell him. ‘Again, like that.’

He does. He complies. Pants a little faster at the compliment, pushing his chest toward yours and his hand to the soft where your stomach meets your jeans, but he kisses you again, just like before. Eager and wanting. So, you melt with it—put your hips forward before he can start at the button—and melt with it.

‘How do you do that?’ you ask, sitting over his lap now, mouth to his neck. ‘Hm?’

He pulls away, or pushes you back, to look at the fastening; rough fingertips over brass, then zipper, then flesh. His buzzed hair brushes your cheek as he looks up again. ‘Do what?’ Brows pinched. ‘Is this okay?’

A nod, yes, yes, your questions first. ‘Know exactly what I want, before I want it,’ you answer. ‘Before I ask for it.’ You put his hand to your underwear and feel him stiffen beneath, abs clenched so tight he can barely breathe. ‘You in my head or something, Juice?’

There’s that blush again, that heat across his cheeks that you can see, colour or no colour—dim light of the bar, orange glow of your living room—and the same shy smile from before. You watch him dip his chin to try and hide it all.

‘I guess I’ve got you figured out,’ he offers.

It’s a fishing rod of a statement, posed and anxious for the bite.

You hum. ‘Maybe you have.’

But his hand hasn’t moved still. It’s resting between cotton and skin, waiting for the cue, waiting for the reward. You’re understanding each other mutually, now.

‘How long have you had a praise kink?’ you ask, because it comes into your head and your restraint’s at the bar still, slung over the pool table. ‘A while, or…?’

He laughs in response, a burst of noise that throws his head back over the couch momentarily. ‘What?’ The smile’s creasing by his eyes. ‘Where’d that come from?’

You wait. It wasn’t a joke. He can laugh, but it won’t make you retract the question, or lie like you haven’t seen right through the core of him. ‘I’m just wondering if anyone’s ever played into it before.’

‘I—look.’ His hand comes free—you miss the warmth immediately—to re-adjust the crotch of his jeans and then tuck behind his head. Scratching. ‘I wasn’t trying to lead you into anything, y’know, different.’

‘My God.’ Your eyes roll. ‘I don’t need to ask where it comes from, do I?’

Apology, apology, sorry, sorry, we don’t have to, I didn’t mean to.

‘Relax,’ you insist, leaning on his shoulders. ‘It’s my bad for asking stupid questions at the wrong time. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

He sighs. Sinks into the cushions with you on top.

‘And I didn’t say I wasn’t into it.’

The corner of his lip tweaks.

‘But if now’s not the time,’ you continue, ‘this pizza place round the block has the meanest—’

You’re interrupted with a kiss, fast and hot and messy. Teeth to teeth, but you don’t mind. It only takes a moment to recover and it’s so unlike the last few, that you feel your stomach dropping with it—dipping, spinning, swallowing itself whole. Heartbeat darting into the base of your throat. Oh, you think, there we go. Both feet onto the court now.

‘Bedroom,’ you say, against his bottom lip. Between the kiss. Into it.

‘Nah.’ His palms find the back of your thighs, just above the knee, as he puts you back, turning you onto the spread of cushions beside you. ‘Here.’

‘Wow.’ You laugh, too twisted and hot where it matters to really care where you go. ‘Okay.’

You can feel him laughing, almost, in return, feel the lift of a smile in the next few kisses he plants on your skin. Your throat, your jaw. God. He knows to shut you up, that’s what it is. Knows any more chances to talk, you’ll take, even though what you really want is, oh, what you really want is—

‘God, you’re good.’

‘Yeah?’ He lifts from your collarbone, from the bite he’s left above it. When you find his eyes, they’re shining—dark, alight—and wide with reward.

You nod, chin hitting your chest as you look down yourself, into those eyes. ‘Keep going,’ you tell him.

Keep going, keep going. Hands to your jeans again, down your hips this time, over your ass, your thighs. Underwear, too. The slight of his moustache brushed beneath your bellybutton and. And.  

‘Good boy,’ you say, under your breath, barely a whisper, but he hears. He hears it.

Good boy, you said, twisted key in the lock.

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juan carlos ortiz #sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz x you #the only soa character i will every write probably LMAO #thats my BOYYYYYYYY my babyyyyy #enjoy!

[drabbles-mc]

Home Safe

Juice Ortiz x GN!Reader

Request by Anon: From your prompt lists can we get fluff 6, “I can’t believe you’re real and mine,” and smut 7, “i know, baby, I know,” with juicey boy and f!reader pretty please?? Thank you and I hope you’re having a great day! (Prompts are from This List)

Warnings: 18+, fluffy soft goodness

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I know that the request was for f!reader but this felt doable for me to do a gender-neutral reader, so that’s what I did! Loved writing this softness for our boy. Hope you enjoy!

SOA Taglist: @garbinge @masterlistforimagines @espieviolet99 @mijop @chibsytelford @thanossexual @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff @bport76 @toni9 @unicornucopia-fuckers @buckybarneshairpullingkink @shadow-of-wonder @punkgoddess-98 @paintballkid711 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @jitterbugs927​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @mijagif​ @frattsparty​ @winchestershiresauce​ @bellisperennis0​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @mveggieburger​ @xeniarocks​ @choochoo284​ @littlekittymeow​ @beardsanddetectives​ @juicyortiz​ @bruxasolta​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @be-my-dear​ @withmyteeth​ @passionatewrites​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You’d been half-asleep when your phone began buzzing on the pillow beside your head, the pillow that had been cold for much longer than you liked. Club business was taking longer than the guys all bargained for, which was par for the course these days, but it still left a knot in your stomach until you finally got the message that they were all safe and on their way home. Which was why even though you weren’t fully conscious, your hand flew and grabbed your phone with no hesitation. It took an extra few beats to get the words out, to get your brain to work, but you answered.

You cleared your throat, though it did nothing to make you sound any less groggy, “Hello?”

Even though he laughed, you could hear the exhaustion in Juice’s voice, “Hey, baby. Sorry I woke you up.”

“No,” you rubbed at your eyes with your free hand, “I wasn’t asleep…all the way.”

He laughed, “Still. Sorry it’s so late.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yea,” along with the tiredness, there was relief in his voice, “Just got to the clubhouse. I’ll be heading home in a few.”

“Yea?”

You could hear the smile on his face, “Yea.”

“I’ll unlock the door for you.”

“No,” he chuckled, “Stay in bed. I have my keys—it’s fine.”

“Okay,” you paused, butterflies still in your stomach despite all the time that had gone by, “I love you. Ride safe.”

“I love you too.”

You didn’t get out of bed, but you felt the exhaustion quickly dissolving from your body now that you knew Juice was on his way home. No matter how many times you told him to ride safe, you knew that he always went a little faster than usual when he was riding home after a run. You chastised him but part of you enjoyed it, that extra determination to get home to you as quickly as possible.

Even from the other end of the house, you could hear the sound of the front door opening. Your eyes were closed as you laid tucked up in bed, but the smile on your face grew. Rolling so that you were facing the bedroom door, you waited for him to appear. The sound of his boots against the hardwood slowly but steadily got a little louder with each stride towards the room. Your house wasn’t that big, the hall wasn’t that long, but that walk always seemed like it took him forever and a day on nights like this.

But then he was there. You smiled, propping yourself up so that you were resting on your elbows. He chuckled and shook his head, more than relieved to be home with you, the sight of you tangled up in blankets with an old shirt on of his made his heart soften after all the chaos he’d been through. The grin on his face was still genuine no matter how tired he was.

He quickly slipped out of his boots, shrugging off his kutte before flopping onto the bed with you. He didn’t even take the time to change out of his jeans and t-shirt that he’d come home in—he just wanted to hold you. He wasted no time in hooking his arms underneath yours and pulling you tight to his chest. You burrowed your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around him as you did so. Neither of you said anything for a moment, just taking a few deep breaths and enjoying the fact that you finally got to hold each other again.

Pulling back, you pressed your lips to his in a searing kiss, hand sliding up to cradle the back of his head as you did. You felt his fingertips pressing harder into your back, trying to find a way to pull you closer still. His lips moved hungrily against yours, trying to make up for lost time.

When you finally pulled away, you searched his eyes, trying to make sure that everything was really okay. Tracing your thumb along his cheek, you said, “That was way longer than three days.”

His laugh was soft, tired, “I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “Don’t be sorry,” you paused, “You’re alright, though?”

He nodded, “I’m good. I’m just, you know,” his hand ran up and down your back, “I’m glad I’m home.”

You smiled, pressing a soft, brief kiss on his lips, “Me too.”

The two of you shifted around slightly on the mattress, trying to get as comfortable as possible. Juice didn’t slither underneath the blankets with you, still didn’t change out of his clothes from the day. Instead, he just rested his head against your chest and wrapped his arms around you, not caring that they’d end up losing feeling if you two laid like that for too long. You smiled, resting one hand on his back between his shoulder blades, and the other on the back of his head, your fingers raking gently over the short hair of his mohawk, over the stubble growing in on the sides of his head that he hadn’t been able to shave while he was on the road.

His breathing started to slow, and you could feel him relaxing more as he continued to lay on you. You would lay there and stare at him forever if you could. It wasn’t like you never got to have these moments, but there was something extra precious about them when he was coming back from a long stint away. He was always tired and clingy, always more soft than usual.

You were starting to think that he might’ve fallen asleep but then you heard him take a deep breath, his voice gravelly as he asked, “How were things here?”

You smiled, your hands gently roaming over his body of their own accord as you spoke, “Fine. It’s always too quiet here when you’re gone.”

“Am I that loud?” he chuckled, still not lifting his head from your chest.

“No, no,” you pressed a kiss to his head, “Well. Only when you play video games,” you gave him a light squeeze, “I just mean it feels more like home when you’re here. That’s all.”

He let out a quiet hum of approval, “Oh. Okay.”

You chuckled, “Okay.”

The room fell quiet again, just the sounds of an occasional deep breath coming from one of you. For as tired as Juice was, he knew that he wasn’t going to be falling asleep anytime soon. Whenever he came home from a run, especially one that went sideways and dragged on like that one had, he tried to stay awake for a while no matter how tired he was. There was something different about the comfort during that first night being home again.

Your hands began to slow, and eventually they stilled completely. Lifting his head, Juice looked up at you, smiling at the sight of you passed out beneath him. He managed to pull his arms out from underneath you without waking you, wiggling his fingers to try and get the feeling back into them. He started to pull away so he could get up off the bed, but you groaned, reaching out even in your sleep to pull him close to you again. He chuckled, bracing himself and carefully maneuvering out of your grasp.

Only then did he finally shed his jeans and t-shirt. Walking around to his side of the bed, he pulled the blanket back just enough to be able to crawl in beside you. He wedged himself up against you, draping one arm over your stomach as his head rested by your shoulder.

The contact began to stir you from your sleep. Your eyes were still heavy, barely open, but you still turned to look where he was laying. A sleepy smile crossed your face when you saw the way that he was looking at you. Your voice was hoarse as you whispered, “What?”

He kissed your shoulder, “You.”

“Me?”

“Yea,” he pulled himself a little tighter to you, “you. I just, you know, I can’t believe you’re real and mine.”

You hummed in approval as your eyes started to drift the rest of the way shut again, “Better start believing it. I love you.”

Relief coursed through his chest at the words. Finally letting his eyes close, he said, “I love you too.”

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[reaperandscythe]

Broken Needle 💉

Writen to Marilyn Mansons' 'Broken Needle' AU, Tully doesn't kill juice and both on the outside, domestic, mentions of PTSD, alcohol use.

Inspired by TCD's 'My Comforter' series on AO3, following 'that light lies hid from men" also on AO3. @ineedthesons on tumblr

I don't own any of the characters, Juan Carlos 'Juce' Ortiz & Ron Tully belong to Kurt Sutter and Fx Original.

🌿 🌿 Home 🌿 🌿

The nightmares came again breaking him of the comfortable sleep he'd been in moments before, a tightness in his chest making his waking hours uncomfortable, the solitary comfort of Tully in their bed next to him long since fallen asleep doing little to calm him this time. "Sleep well, love" kissing Tully's forehead, Juice slipped out of the bed and into his jeans and am old samcro tee, no longer patched he found himself struggling to adjust, unsure of his place, not a son, not AB, that was Tully's place "I'll be back by morning" he grabbed a hoodie and socks, quietly padding out to the entryway of the home they'd made together.

Being a light sleeper, Tully stirred at the sound of keys scraping against a bowl, arm racking out to Juice's side of the bed, abandoned but still warm. "Shit" reluctantly crawling out of the arm bed, he pulled the blanket around himself and sauntered out "Jesus, Juice, it's...." Tully squinted at the wall clock reading shortly after midnight. "...12 in the morning baby" he cocked an eyebrow as the man's head shot up to look at him, started in the middle of tieing his boots.

"Nightmares, a-about you, prison, Chibs, loosing you" his heart was heavy, his brain craving the fresh air, freedom. "It's all noise, the only time I feel like I can escape it i-is on the road" Juice ran a hand over his face, sighing as Tully came over kneeling in front of him. "'m sorry for waking you papì" he smiled softly, a hand clasping his knee, reassuring him as best as Tully could.

Unable to argue with the need for freedom, Tully chewed at his bottom lip, thinking before speaking "the noise is just that, noise" he squeezed Juice's knee, taking on a gentle manner as the Puerto Rican watched him "do what you gotta do, as long as you come back, you hear?" Tully ran his free hand through his black hair, humming as his boyfriend laid a hand on top of the one of his knee. "You'll find your place, you always do."

Nodding, Juice brought his other knee up, foot on the bench as he continued tieing his boots "I will, I always do Tully" he stopped for a moment as Tully's hazel eyes weathered an anxious look "I'll be okay papì, and I'll come back to you" Juice let go of a breath, smiling as his boyfriend pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Go back to bed, read some poetry or something" he spoke blowing a kiss in Tully's direction of the way out the door.

Retreating to the couch not wanting to go back to an empty bed, Tully ran his fingers over the ring on his finger 'JCO' the inscription of Juice's christian initials. "That boys unwraveled me" he titled his head back eyes starting up at the ceiling as the roar of the motorcycles engine tore down the road away from their little piece of heaven. "And he fucking knows it." Shaking his head, he smiled as his phone lit up, a text from juice, 'I'll be home around 9, expecting breakfast.'. "lovely, he wants breakfast, so he expects to be back then." Tully took the chance to fall back asleep

🌿 🌿 Tig's & Venus's 🌿 🌿

Meeting with Venus, Juice kicked at the rock under his feet as the woman handed him a hot cup of tea. "Sorry for waking you, just needed a friend to talk to" he knew it was dangerous being here, unsure of where Tig stood as far as him still being alive. "I mean... Tully's good, but you.... you go out of your way to be a friend, he's my boyfriend so he has to."

"It's okay, Tigger's passed out anyway, got in late from a run to Nevada" sitting on the step, Venus invited Juice to sit down "not sleeping darling?" She wrapped her robe around herself as Juice sat, leaning back on his elbows. "And I get it, sometimes...." Taking a sip of her tea, Venus looked at the man "I'm a familliar face, easy to talk to despite being Tig's old lady." She smiled when Juice gave hee that hundred watt smile.

"H-ow is he? B-eein' VP and all?" He let the warmth of the cup deep into his hands as he watched the stars above. Their friendship was trivial, complex but they made it work. "Heard it from Tulls, and Chibs is president now?" Juice relaxed as Venus rubbed a hand over his shoulder, a motherly like gesture he had to fight against not to start crying on the stoop.

Listening as the boy talked, Venus took a breath in, sighing as the mention of Tig's title came up "he's doing alright with it, makes it hard at times when he has to play nice with the AB though." Tully was an exception to her scorn of such syndicates, the very basis of what threatened her being. "Chibs certainly is, that's why the green light was pulled, could bear to keep that order on you." She squeezed his shoulder as Juice shifted, hand disappearing in his hoodie sleeves.

Laughing at the AB comment, Juice grinned when Venus swatted the back of his head "ohh god, don't I know it, you know they could have killed me anyway" he reminiced, humming as his heart warmed "Tully gave up the shotcaller position to stay with me" running a hand over his jeans, Juice froze, hearing stirring from inside the house.

"They could have" she pulled the former son into a side hug and pressed a kiss to his temple. "But Tully never would have allowed it, fought for you constantly, he's so scared he could loose you" Venus had kept in touch with the once shotcaller, for sake of making sure the man didn't crack when he fell for Juice. "And don't you worry about Tig, he'll get over you being here." She met eyes with the man she'd fell in love with, lips pursed as he took a drink of the beer in his hand.

"As far as the record goes..." Tig, still in his cut, dropped into the rocking chair on the porch "...I never saw you and we never spoke" he'd been playing devil's advocate with the club and Venus lately. "I'm glad you're alive though, kid, you deserve a second chance at this life thing" Tig smiled when Juice looked up at him "damn it, I fuckin' love you Juicey" he quirked at the ring on juice's finger "is that a..." Questions, many of them.

Juice grinned at Tig's omission, willing to lie to keep him protected "deal, and thanks, I'm not exactly ready to die just yet." He liked at his ring, thumbing it as the glod shine between the black. "Something like that" Juice perked up as Tig asked about it "we're not legally married yet, I know I shouldn't be asking" hjs breath shook, body ceasing to shiver when Venus took his hand "but could you two....could you witness for us, city hall, next week?"

"You've got to much life left to live baby" Venus brushed her thumb over his cheek, smiling when Tig watched fondly, just like he did when Joey was around. "If that's what you want, we'd love to" answerjng before Tig could object "Alexander foendtnhsve much say here, as far as I'm concerned." She was happy to see that Juice found someone who appreciated him.

🌿 🌿 Home 🌿 🌿

Walking through the door, Juice groaned at the smell of bacon and eggs wafting from the kitchen. "Good morning to you" he eyed the man who greeted him with a hot coffee, grey sweat set low on his hips and no shirt as Tully kissed him softly. "You look comfortable" Juice smiled, half yelping when a hand connected with his ass.

"You ever do that again and I'll greenlight your ass all the way to fucking mexico" Tully had been startled awake at 5 in the morning by a call from Venus telling him Juice was at her place. "I thought something bad happened when I heard her voice on the phone." He herded the man into the kitchen and hugged him from behind "I'm too old to be scared awake like that"

"Just needed a friend to talk to" he leaned into the man's hold, muscles tight but relaxing slightly at the smell of tobacco and vanilla, Tully, mixed with the smells of breakfast "you smell like home, Tulls" Juice welcomed a kiss to the top of his head and a gentle squeeze to his waist. "But there's times I need Venus, she's kind of all I've got right now." He nezzled into his boyfriend, taking a sip of his coffee.

Regaining his center, Tully buried his head in Juice's neck, leather and lemon. "That's okay, she's good to have around" He ran his hand up the man's arms, reassurance that his boy was still alive. "I know, you do too, baby boy" Tully squeezed juice lightly before releasing, letting him beeline to the breakfast nook. "D-id you get a chance to talk to Tig? About next week?" He asked, carrying their plates over and siting down.

"She really is, kind of motherly, more than Gemma was at least." Perking up at the sight of chocolate pancakes, Juice mumbked a thank you against Tully's lips as they kissed. "I did, Venus didn't give him a choice, they're game for it" he quieted saying a silent thank you to the universe for Tully, for this moment, and the love they shared. "I guess that would..." Pressing a kiss to Tully's nose, he grinned wide "...make you my old lady, if I was still patched" Juice laughed as he recieved a glare sure to make anyone else shit themselves.

"That she is, it's good for you, to have her influence" Tully had benefited from her being around as well, made the adjustment to living outside easier. "she's got the VP wrapped around her finger, and she fucking knows it." He took a fork full of egg handing it out to juice. "You're not patched" thinking about it and looking to his own outstretched hand, it clicked. "For fucks sake I fucking am your old lady, aren't I " cringing at the application of club culture, Tully settled into his role of dotting fiancee as Juice took the bait.

🌿 🌿 1 Week Later 🌿 🌿

Eyeing the clock, Tig's leg bounced under the table, his closed fist resting just over his mouth. "K, we gotta wrap this up Chibby" he spoke up, ignoring the looks from happy and Chibs. He'd made a promise to Venus and damn it, he wasn't going to be late.

"Somewhere yeh need teh be Tiggy?" Shifting his seat so he was facing Tig, eyes cooking as his VP sat forward, arms resting on the table top, the man had been anxious all morning, quite uncharacteristicly for that matter. "I was just about to wrap up enywhey" Chibs pointed out before slamming the gavel down and closing out chapel.

"Actually, Yes, I...have to meet Venus down town" a half truth, but a lie enough that Chibs's Glasgow smile turned down "Jesus Chibs, you don't want the full answer" Tig didn't want to rip the rug out form under his friends feet like this. It felt wrong to lie though, even though he wasn't, not in theory. "I, fuck, come with me."

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Heading the door to the makeshift shift space he'd been using to get ready, Juice froze when he caught not only Tig's but also Chibs's reflection in the mirror. "You brought hi-" he set his jaw, straightening up as his former flame looked him over, threatening to shared him to pieces without speaking. "God J-ust...Venus" Juice turned to the woman "could you and Tig give us a minute?"

"I didn't have time to warn you, he saw through my lie" he gave the man a hug and smiled as Juice looked pretty good in a suit, like a proper godfather. "Be easy on him, yeah?" Taking Venus's hand, he led her out to the hallway, closintthe door behind them. "Listen, baby, I'm so sorry" he looked down as her expression was uncertain.

"I don't know, maybe it'll be good for both of them" Venus straightened Tig's cut, runnifnber hands over the leather and brought him into a hug "just know if it ruins today for Juice, I won't hesitate to kill you myself." She pecked his lips and smiled as man grinned. "Maybe fuck you death but that's beside the point."

His eyes scanning the man in from of him, Chibs noted the ring in Juice's finger, the suit and the marriage license on the small desk. "You found someone then" he finally spoke, accent thick as it dawned on him he'd lost his boy a long time ago. "I-i'm happy for yeh Juicey." Chibs shifted from foot to foot, unsure of what to really say.

Juice nodded, seeing Chibs with the president patch felt right, like the Sons might have a running chance at survival. "I have, it's uhh...it's Tully" the finality in his voice startling even himself, he was getting to marry the man he loved, thanks to Chibs pulling the green light. "Holy shit, thank you Chibs, you're the whole reason I get to do this today" Juice lunged at the man, hugging him tight.

The admission on one hand stung but on the other made Chibs feel like he'd done something right "you sure have weird taste in men, boy" he smiled as Juice hugged him, the boy's head pressed against his cut. "I guess in a sick way I am, I couldn't let that be the end, you're too special." Chibs could rest assured the man didn't hate him.

"C-ould you stay?" Juice let go and looked up at the Scot, heart fluttering as his once brother regained his compsure. "Please? For me?" He smiled as Chibs took his hand, Inspecting the ring "it's black onyx and gold" Juice spoke "the Chinese say onyx teaches the wearer to have strength and perseverance and to trust in themselves" all things he needed to remember, Tully's way of saying he wouldn't let him forget.

O.o.O.o.O.o.O

Initially taken aback to see Chibs next to Tig, Tully chose to be civil figuring juice had asked him to be here. "God you look... beautiful Juan Carlos." He smiled as Juice held his head high, black slacks, white shirt accenting the man's Puerto Rican and black skin tone and tattoos barely visible. "Shit, I can just imagine Jeff stroking out right about now." The idea of a former shotcaller marrying a biracial Puerto Rican black American would have gotten him killed if he still held rank.

"Let him, you've done your bidding" Juice took Tully's hand, his thumb grazing the spot where a swastika once marked the man's skin “In times of adversity and change, we really discover who we are and what we’re made of. Howard Schultz" he'd watched Tully I've the last few years rediscover hismelf void of a title, it was inspiration at the best of times."

🌿 🌿 Home 🌿 🌿

The first night they spent as a married couple Juice hauled a long since ignored box in from the garage, the remnants of his past as a son, a part of him Tully had picked the broken pieces of up and pieced back together. "I should burned this shit ages ago" he spoke, taking the cover off and sitting it aside, smiling when his husband looked up from the copy of Bronte's work he'd gotten as a 'wedding' gift from venus and Tig. "Guess I sort of reaped what I sewed" juice dropped his eyes to the box, muscles ram rod straight as his hand fell to the leather of his cut, full patch still present.

Tully knew enough of biker, specifically sons, culture from hearing juice talk about it that he could decypher the 'reap what you sew' comment. "Burning it would feel good in the moment" he gave the man a knowing glance, acknowledgjng he'd heard him. "knowing you Juan Carlos, you'd feel miserable after and be all mopey." Juice's sudden tension cluing him into a possible crisis as the man swallowed, eyes flicking to the cut Juice had picked up.

"Holy shit, thi-" he wasn't sure if he should process it as a mayhem call or if it was the club's way of letting him have a means to an ending of one chapter as he started a new one. "You know..." Juice lifted his head, eyes meeting Tully's as he was being analyzed. "I could think of a few uses for this" he tipped his head, grinning as Tully followed his thought process. "Why they don't know about what happens here can't hurt them." Juice bit his lip, laughing when he was pulled onto the couch.

"I believe, Juan Carlos, that you have a death wish" pulling Juice into a passionste kiss, he sat up and swung Juice into his lap. "Shirt off, cut on" Tully's fingers ran over the ink adorning juice's chest, toned muscles rippling as movements were calculated. "How many fuck you's is this now?" They'd almost made it a past time in their acts of blasphemy against the club.

Sliding the cut over his shoulders, Juice steadied his breathing, warding off the reaper that was his past. "I lost count somewhere around the night you beat the shit out of Happy" he focused on the hand flexing against his chest, remind him to breathe, he'd seen a different side of Tully that night, the side that was willing to cause a possible war with the Sons for him. "The rest were less calculated than that" Juice let his eyes open, Tully's hazel ones staring back, a look he couldn't quite read crossing the man's face.

In a twisted manner it was almost like the cut offered Tully a glimpse into the man juice once was, it strangely tuned him on as his husband excused both anxiety and confidence, two sides of the same coin. Sons of his past and attonement offered in sweet blasphemous want. "I-i'm so-orry, I know you were talking but I don't think I heard any of that" he admitted, it had been like the world around him stopped for a moment, he questioned if he might have a leather kink, cheeks bruning red when Juice stood up a hand outstretched to him.

🌿 🌿 Fin 🌿 🌿

**I know alot of this wouldn't fly in MC culture, Juice having left into he trems that he did, getting excommunicated, greenlit then not, the letting him live after what he did, etc...but again, it's fanfiction it's neither cannon or MC.

#chibs telford #juice ortiz #sons of anarchy #tig trager #ron tully #venus van dam #tig trager fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfic #juan carlos ortiz #domestic fanfiction #non cannon fanfiction

[cjwolfwrites]

Sacrifices

Juice Ortiz x Damien “lobo” Martinez (oc)

Angst and cannon typical violence

Prompts - “I can’t lose you not like this” & “if you do that again, I’ll fucking throw you out that fucking window you- what are you doing?” “Checking to see how high the drop is, see if it’s worth it”

Guns shots were all that filled Damien’s ears as he scrambled for cover.This was supposed to be a simple run but the sons had accidentally found themselves in a ambush . Damien pants as he runs up the warehouse steps with Juice trailing behind him . “Damn it”. Damien shouts turning a corner blindly unaware that there are people upstairs . It all happened so fast but it seemed like slow motion. Damien had turned the corner to be met with gunshots. Before he could even process what was happening he felt himself getting thrown to the ground a heavy weight settling on his chest. He opens his eyes when he hears his boyfriend speak “I can’t lose you not like this”. Damien looks behind Juice for a second before raising his hand and pulling the trigger killing the man who had a gun pointed at the back of his boyfriends head. Damien speaks his voice horse “if you do that again, I’ll fucking throw you out that fucking window you”- Damien pauses as juice gets up walking towards the closest window before looking out . “what are you doing?” Damien asks getting up and walking over to Juice “Checking to see how high the drop is, see if it’s worth it” juice says with a small smile before wrapping his arms around his partner and enveloping him in a passionate kiss.

#sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #Damien lobo Martinez #mlm

[filipfuckingtelford]

Broken memories

Juice x OC fanfiction. ANGST.

Warning: mention of death.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Juice woke up and looked around. He couldn't realize where he was, he didn't recognize the room. He sat up in bed and frowned, in fact he couldn't remember anything about himself. Neither his name nor his life. It made him terrified.

The door opened slowly right when he was about to rush outside. The young woman entered the room and looked at Ortiz with pain and worry in her eyes. He was... confused. Juice had no idea who was she and why she had this expression on her face.

"Oh, baby, you woke up" The woman said, relieved and hurried to come closer to him.

"I... Who are you?" Juice moved away. He couldn't understand what was going on and all he could feel was fear.

"Oh, god! Of course, you don't remember me, I'm sorry" The woman stopped and sat down in the chair next to his bed "Juice. You got in the car crash"

"I did?" Juice closed his eyes and saw it for a bare second. Mangled car on the road, police, ambulance. He saw some images but couldn't make any of those stay long enough to remember.

"You did... It's been rough, Juice, but you made it. You were in the hospital for almost a month" The woman continued and looked at him worried "Do you remember any of this?"

Juice shook his head and felt a sharp pain in his temple. "I don't... I... who am I?"

He suddenly realized he had no idea who he was. Not only his name, but anything else. How did he look like, what was he doing, how old was he. Nothing. He was trying to find any memories but it was all dark. He felt so lost and scared. But the woman touched his palm gently and it made him calm down immediately.

"You are Juan Carlos Ortiz, but your friends call you Juice. You are the loyal member of the morotcycle club called Sons of Anarchy" The woman was trying to find words to explain and to not bother him with too much information.

He felt lost, confused and scared. But the words she was telling him brought up some memories... He remembered some faces, leathers with patches. He remembered his own face but what if it was just his imagination? Juice looked around to find a mirror but he only saw his reflection in the dark window. Yes, it was him, Juice Ortiz.

"And who are you?" He asked when the first portion of information was absorbed by his mind. At least now he had something about himself.

"We'll talk about it later" The woman said and gave him a soft smile. "I'll bring you some food. You need to eat and have rest. The memories will come back eventually"

Juice nodded quietly while she stood up and left the room. Soon the woman came back, she brought him some chicken noodles and wanter and left him alone.

While eating he was trying to remember anything else. He could recall some faces, probably other club members as they were all wearing the same leather cuts with same reaper on the back. But he couldn't recall the names. Finally Juice felt his head aching from too much efforts. He laid down on the bed again and soon fell asleep.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Next morning when he woke up, the woman that visited him yesterday came back again with breakfast for him. Juice sat up on the bed and looked at her with a faint smile.

"I remember something" He said, excited.

"Really?" Some glimpse of hope appeared in her eyes.

"Yes. I remember the club, my brothers... I remember... what we were doing" He said. It was such a good feeling, to remember at least anything, but he saw this glipse of hope faiding from woman's eyes and he didn't know why.

She put the plate on the table and sat in the chair next to him.

"I don't remember you..." Juice sighed.

"My name is Y/N, Juice. We were engaged" She said quietly.

"Engaged? I... we love each other?" He frowned and looked at her. Damn, she was beautiful but he really couldn't remember...

"I do love you, Juice. And you... will decide if you will remember me" She gave him a soft smile.

"I..." He felt some worry, some tension in his chest "I want to remember, tell me more"

"About us?" Y/N raised her brow watching him, she didn't want to tire him with too much information.

"Yes... how long have we been together?"

"We knew each other for five years and we were dating for two years" Y/N tried not to show any emotions, only facts.

"Wow... I've been with you for two years and I don't remember anything" Juice felt confused, it seemed impossible. But somehow he trusted her. "When our wedding is supposed to be?"

"It was supposed to be a month ago... You got in a car crash on your way to the wedding" Y/N said, her eyes filled with pain.

"So we did't get married... I'm sorry" Juice sighed. He didn't know what he felt about it.

"It's not your fault Juan Carlos. You will remember eventually and then... if you would still want it, we will get married" Y/N smiled softly "Now eat and have some rest, Juice. You need to recover"

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Y/N came back in the evening to bring him more food. He was sleeping for almost all day and couldn't even tell how he fell asleep.

"I want to remember you" Was the first thing Juice said as soon as Y/N entered the room. "Tell me more about us"

Y/N sat in the chair next to him again and gave him a soft gentle smile "I've came to Charming five years ago and I started working as a mechanic in the Teller Morrow car service. Do you remember what it is?"

"I..." Juicce closed his eyes for a moment and nodded "Yes... This car service is our club's legal business"

"That's right... That is how we met. You were alway so good to me and I fell for you almost at once. But we were both too shy to make the first step" Y/N smiled gently as she was thinking about the very beginning of their relationship "So we... were just friends at first, we've been spending a lot of time together, playing video games, watching movies, just talking about anything in the world"

"How did I make a move finally?" Juice asked quietly.

"Why do you think it was you who made it?" Y/N smirked.

"I..." Juice frowned, trying to remember, but he could only see some brief scenes, nothing more "I just know it was me"

She laughed quietly and nodded slightly "I was you, my love. You are right. It was during the party, we were dancing and you asked me why haven't you ever saw my boyfriend. I told you that I didn't have one. And then you said..."

"I want to be your boyfriend then" Juice said quietly. Suddenly he remembered everything. Her, the way his heart was trembling with affection when they kissed, when he finally knew that she felt the same way about him.

He could remember everything about her and it filled his heart with joy as Juice looked at her. "I remember... you..."

"Oh, my love" Y/N smiled, tears in her eyes, as she leaned closer to him and kissed his lips so soft and genle.

"I love you!" Juice said, smiling "I want to marry you!"

But she pulled away and something in her face changed, something about her changed as she shook her head slightly.

"You can't" She whispered almost inaudibly.

"Why?" Juice couldn't understand but he felt as if something happened, something terrible.

"Because it was not you who got in this car crash, my love... It was me. And I didn't make it" Her words could hardly be heard, her figure was fading.

"No... please, it's not true, I love you..." Juice tried to grab her, hold her, but his palms went through her body. He felt his world crashing, he felt despair filling his heart.

And he woke up. The room was dark and the bed was empty. Their bed where they've spent so many nights together.

He remembered everything. The mangled car, the police, the ambulance and her lifeless body on the road.

#sons of anarchy #soa #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x oc #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfiction

[ravewood]

Tattoo Artist: Juice Ortiz

masterlist

It was an odd day in Charming, as you organize the supplies in the dingy tattoo shop. It wasn’t the most appealing but the only place that would take a girl for a tattoo apprentice. Well more like have you to do all the slave labor. But you’d put up with it because you got to tattoo. Even if it was mostly the shitty tattoos no one else wanted to take. 

“Hey Kid, got a piece for you.” You heard Happy voice echo. You quickly walked up front to meet the biker with a hug. You knew he was part of the sons and he worked at the tattoo shop sometimes. 

“Whatcha got?” You asked smirking up at him crossing your arms. Today was very uneventful, two tramp stamps was as much action you got today. 

“Not for me, prospect here wants some spice.” Happy joked as he pushed the younger biker in front of him. You haven’t seen him around before, you sure would have noticed him.

“I’m Juice.” He stuttered out. Juice thought he was about to pass out. Happy had dragged him here once he heard Juice wanted to get some more ink. But you just took away his breath. 

“I’m Y/N, so what you got in mind” You asked giving him a smile as you leaned over the counter. Happy by now already made himself busy going through new photo books. 

“I was thinking of something on the side on my head. I don’t know what.” He mumbled trying to explain the idea in his head without sounding like an idiot.  

“You aways rock the mohawk?” You asked eyeing him up. He obviously stood out the with short shaving mohawk. It didn’t look like he had much ink, not that you could see since he was wearing clothes. You only noticed some lettering on his wrist and some Chinese letters in the inside of his bicep. 

“Yeah.” Juice said running his hand over his head. 

“Well we could do something on both sides? Do you want something in participial? or?” You asked grabbing the sketch book ready to come up with some ideas. 

“Tribal?” He  said still not really sure. You chuckled before coming up with a few different patterns. His brown eyes locked as he watched your ever move. 

“Well we can copy it so it’s exactly them same on both sides.” You said handing him over a few different stencils. 

“This one great.” He said smiling you nodded before going over making a perfect stencil. 

“You can follow me.” You said nodding for him to follow you to an empty chair in the back. You stood over him, feeling in a daze as he smelled like after shave and weed. 

Juice felt like he was holding his breath the whole time as you worked. He tried to close his eyes and not pay attention to your touch but he felt hypnotized. He thought it would be way worse getting a head tattoo but all his sense where distracted by you. 

“You like?” You asked as you cleaned him off and giving him a mirror to check it out. 

“Yeah thanks, better then my idea.” He said checking himself out in the mirror. 

Years went by and Juice was always you favorite client. Even after you left the shop to open your dan tattoo shop, he made the drive no questions asked to see you. 

It was late, you where closing up your shop. You didn’t expect Juice walking in hoodie over with slumped shoulders. He looked like a kicked puppy. 

“Juice?” You asked coming closer to make sure it was him. You heart skipped in your your chest when his brown eyes met your. 

“Sorry I should’ve called. I - uh- Don’t got no where to be. Just thought- If you. I got a piece in mind.” Juice mumbled over his words not sure what he really was doing out here at 11 pm. He was honest when he said he got no where else to be. The dark baggage of the club was weighing him down, he felt like he was suffocating and just needed to breath. And with you, here was the only place he could think of that would bring him peace of mind. 

“What you got in mind babe?” You said giving him a smile. Most of the work on his body was yours. It didn’t take long for you to come up with the art from his ideas. 

“Strip down.” You said as you set up your tattoo gun and work space. Juice nodded a slight pink blush filled his cheeks as he pulled his hoodie and t shirt off. He sat down in the leather work chair as you leaned over. 

You did your best trying to focus on just the tattoo and not the toned biker inches from you. You where basically leaning over on him, leaning between his legs as you worked on the two skulls on either sides of his pecs. 

This was the first peace Juice as felt all week. The pain from the tattoo felt numb, yet he felt relaxed. He was at ease he focused on you. He couldn’t help but watch you, as you bite your lip as you worked. 

“There.” You said before patting his chest smiling down at him. 

“Thank you, Sorry- I know its late.” Juice mumbled as he felt bad when he realized it was almost 3 am. But a part of him didn’t feel bad, he didn’t want to be alone.  

“For you, anything.” You joked as you cleaned up your work area as you let Juice get up and put his clothes back on. But you didn’t really know how much Juice really needed to hear that. 

“ah- Sorry.” You mumbled you as turned too fast running right into his chest. You didn’t notice how close he was to you. 

“I- Uh” He mumbled as he stared down at you. He couldn’t help it when his body naturally closed the distance between you. His hands gripped your hips quickly as he leaned down crashing his lips against yours without any protest from you. Your own hands gripped on to his upper arms to pull him down closer to you. 

“Can i- uh stay with you?” He asked desperation laced in his soft broken voice. You’ve never seen him like this before for the couple years you’ve known him. He was always a ray of sunshine, a goofy ball. Your hand slowly crept to hold his cheek, your thumb tracing his cheek bone right next to his eye. You missed seeing the crinkles when he smile so big. 

“I have no where else.” Juice whispered out growing with anxiety with your silence. He felt so comfortable with you, almost at peace. The first time he felt at ease in a long while. 

“Of course Juice” You said giving him a reassuring smile. You didn’t expect Juice to come here this late, you never expected him to need your comfort. But guess you need to expect the unexpected. 

#juice #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz smut #juice x reader #theo rossi #theo rossi imagine #theo rossi fanfic #happy lowman #Juan Carlos Ortiz #juan carlos imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfic #soa #soa fanfic #soa imagine #jax teller imagine #Jax Teller #jax teller fanfiction #charlie hunnam imagine #happy #soa happy

[ravennaortiz]

Secret Part 1

Juice went numb when he looked up and saw her standing in front of him arms crossed. Her expression unreadable behind the large black sunglasses and hat she wore. His heart was racing and his mouth dry as he tried to think of an explanation.

"Well I guess meeting with a cop is better than another woman" stated Chloe as she took her sunglasses off and locked her hazel eyes on his. Juice tried to laugh but his nerves made it come out like a stangled cough. " I told you your the only one for me babe" replied Juice after a moment. "Roosevelt was just hassling me, no worries" he added trying to sound casual.

"This is the third time you've met him in the last two weeks. Every time with no kutte, a borrowed car and in the middle of no where" stated Chloe as she moved closer so they were inches apart. She knew he was lying and that something was wrong. They had been together to long for her to not see the signs.

Juice closed his eyes as he took a deep breath. This was it. This was how it all ended. He knew this all would come to light at some point. The stress of all the deceit and the anguish at the thought of losing his chosen family had tears rolling down his cheeks.

" He's blackmailing me to rat on the club"confessed Juice his breath barely above a whisper. "What's he got on you?" Asked Chloe as she scrunched her face up in concern as she used her thumb to brush away his tears. " I don't want to involve you anymore than you already are Angel" replied Juice as he looked at her and shook his head. " Juice I've been involved in club stuff my whole life and you have been my partner in crime for the last two years. It's safe to say I'm already in deep" replied Chloe with a comforting smile.

" He found out who my dad is and is threatening to tell the club because my dad is black" replied Juice knowing she was right. " Juice no one would care" replied Chloe with a frown at his words. "The club has rules" started Juice before she shushed him with a kiss. "I'll take care of this Juice" replied Chloe.

#sons of anarchy #soa #juice ortiz #samcro #soa juice #juice imagine #juice ortiz fanfic #how it should have gone #soa fanfic #juice soa #soa fanfics #old lady soa #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy imagine #ravennasoc #ravennasmasterlist #juice ortiz appreciation #juice ortiz fanfiction #juan carlos ortiz #juan juice ortiz x reader #juice deserved better #juice imagines #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz imagines #juice ortiz x oc #juice x oc #sons of anarchy imagines #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sonsofanarchyimagines

[drakoneve]

Sons of Anarchy Masterlist

Requests are OPEN. Who I write for listed below the cut;

Tig Trager

Long Run.

Tig w/ a cat person

Chibs Telford

coming soon...

Jax Teller

coming soon...

Juice Ortiz

Destined Meetings.

Opie Winston

coming soon...

Happy Lowman

coming soon...

#jax teller x reader #tig trager x reader #chibs telford x reader #juice ortiz x reader #opie winston x reader #happy lowman x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy x reader #jax teller imagine #soa x reader #jax x reader #opie x reader #tig x reader #alexander trager x reader #alex trager x reader #happy x reader #juice x reader #juan carlos ortiz #juan carlos x reader #soa fluff #soa angst #soa chibs #soa chibs x reader #soa jax x reader #soa tig x reader

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Marked for Carnage Masterlist

Fic Content Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing, Alcohol and Drug Use, Explicit Sexual Content, Violence, Death, Gore, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Stalking, Spousal Abuse (off page/not described in detail), Injury, Weapons, Gun Violence

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

#sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy fic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz #juice soa #juan carlos ortiz #juan carlos juice ortiz #juice ortiz fic #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz x oc

[garbinge]

I lied

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader From these August Prompts:  “You said you'd go with me.” "I lied."

A/N: Me??? A Juice fic??? Idk where this came from, this poor man went through so much in canon that I decided, why don't I put him through some more in fic world???

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of bruises/cuts.

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

Your bags were packed with the necessities and your gut was filled with nerve and hope. You began driving to the clubhouse. It was late at night, no one would be there except a couple hang arounds and him. As you pulled into the lot, you saw him leaning against his bike, backpack on and waiting for you. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, things had been so tough lately, you could see it on his face everyday but now that you knew things were about to be new, there was a fresh start on the horizon, you couldn’t help but feel the excitement masked as butterflies as you pulled in. 

“Hey!” You couldn’t contain the elation in your tone. 

Juice looked up, hadn’t even noticed you drove in, the shock was on his face as he snapped out of whatever he was thinking. 

“Hey.” His voice was the complete opposite of yours, low, succumbed. It made every ounce of anticipation in you dissipate within seconds. 

“What’s wrong?” You immediately sped up so you were in front of him, dropping your bag at your feet to lift your hands up to his face. It took more effort than you expected lifting his head up, the weakness wasn’t just displayed on Juice’s face but in his demeanor. Your heart was starting to catch on to things, it was beating rapidly as you took in his attitude, his face. It was littered in bruises and cuts, and despite the purpled and red marks on his face, his soul was the most broken. 

“I’m fine. Just waiting for you.” Juice said after a deep breath and pushing back all his thoughts and managing to put a half-assed smile on.

“I missed you.” You said smiling back and taking his cue and moving to leave a kiss on his lips. “So much.” You pulled away to whisper the next two words against his mouth but Juice was quick to fill the space. His hands moved up to cup your face, there was desperation in it, but not in a wanting you way but in a way that he wanted this to make everything better. He kissed you with purpose but you could tell it was the wrong purpose. 

As you took a breath you rested your head against his and took the opportunity to speak to him. 

“We’ve got plenty of time for this later, c’mon we should hit the road.” Quickly you grabbed his hand and bent down to grab your bag and pull him to your SUV. “You can load your bike in the trunk, there's room. I don’t know if you wanna stop by your place and pick up anything more but I left all my stuff, figured my landlord will repurpose it after I default on the rent.” You chuckled. 

As you began to walk you noticed Juice wasn’t moving, he was back to looking at the ground and as you took one more step your conjoined hands fell. 

“Juice, c’mon.” You said once which earned you a glance from him and when you repeated it, a part of you knew what was about to happen so you raised your voice in a way that was practically begging him. Begging him not to do this. To just come with you. 

“We’re not going.” Juice’s voice was barely audible and the silence between both of you became the loudest thing in the air. 

“What?” You questioned after you realized you weren’t going to be able to wrap your mind around it. 

“We’re not going.” He had managed to sit up straight now and tell you with full volume now. 

You stared at him before speaking up. “You said you’d go with me.” Your voice also at a whisper. “I lied.”

Those words cut you deeper than anything else he could have said. The space between both of you felt like two magnets repelling against each other. There was a choice you had to make at that moment and it only took seconds for you to decide. Maybe you’d regret it, or maybe he would. But either way your choice was made. 

“No, you’re not going. I’m going. You’re an idiot to stay here, Juice. You’re choosing that,” you pointed to his face, “over starting new?” There was so much more to what you meant. Juice was choosing a life of violence, of deterioration, of constant heartbreak over a life of love, of growth, of happiness. There was no convincing him, if the actions you showed him were no match for the actions the club showed him, your words would mean nothing. 

“C’mon, don’t be like that.” Just like that he was back to the boy who had begged you to go with him, begged you to stay with him through this shit. None of it mattered. None of it ever mattered. 

“This is it, Juice. Either you come with me, or we’re done.”  You stepped back, that magnet repulsion still in high effect. 

That was it. It had been 3 years since that night, since you saw Juice. You didn’t exactly leave Charming, but you did make it a point to avoid any sign, trace, or mention of the club. It helped that you lived on the outskirts and decided to do all your errands in Morada. It proved to be successful, until today. 

As you walked around the convenient store, eyes on the shelves you bumped into someone, the apologies came pouring out from your mouth as you gathered the things that fell on the ground. 

“No, sorry, that was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention.” There was slight humor in the tone of the voice you knew so well that your heart stopped while you looked up at him, all the misstrewn groceries in your arms now as you stood up. Both of you staring at each other as the realization hit. 

He looked different. His hair was grown out, he had a mustache, a beard. Out of instinct, your eyes moved down to see he wasn’t wearing the kutte. I didn’t necessarily mean he was out of the club, but it did make your mind wander. 

“Hey.” His voice softened and he looked down at the groceries in your hand realizing what you had was mixed in with his items. “Uh, sorry.” He smiled in a way that melted you and pointed to something in your hand. “That’s mine.” 

You looked down to see his favorite snack nuzzled in between your groceries. “Oh.” You laughed back and adjusted your grip so you could hand him the bag. “Still love the honey barbeque twists.” You joked as your hands touched and you both pulled away instantly. 

“How are you?” Both of you spoke at the same time and laughed awkwardly. Juice pointed to you wanting you to speak first.

“I’m good. Y’know. Livin’ the dream.” You laughed awkwardly again. “You?” 

“Yea I’m good, just traveling back home.” He nodded. 

“No kutte.” You couldn’t help yourself as you brought up the lack of apparel. 

Juice was confused and looked down. “Oh, yea the trip was lowkey, just me and–” 

“Me.” Jax’s voice was smug as ever and it made you turn your attention to see him smiling and going to pull you into a hug. “Long time no see.” 

“Yea, been a minute.” You felt very uncomfortable but were going to see this through. 

“I’ll let you two catch up, I’ll be out by the bikes.” Jax smirked at Juice and winked at you before squeezing your shoulder as a goodbye. 

“Glad to see you two worked your shit out.” You said to Juice as Jax left the store. 

“Oh, yea, it's gotten better.” Juice tensed up and you could clock that shit from a mile away still.  

“Well, I gotta go, but it was nice seeing you.” Was it a lie? Was it the truth? You weren’t sure, but it was the polite thing to say. Juice agreed and stepped to the side to let you start walking down the aisle near check out. As you reached the end of the aisle about to turn down the next he spoke up causing you to turn to look at him. 

“I thought you left town? That night, you said you were gonna leave, I thought you left.” 

You could tell he was trying to wrap his head around this, seeing you. You knew he likely spent late nights awake thinking about it, about you, he might have looked different but he was the same Juice that you left in the Sons lot all those years ago. Which is why you didn’t want to leave anymore hope there, for either of you. You could see the hope in his eyes, that you were back, that maybe you could see eachother again, that you came back for him. All of that let you decide to break both of your hearts all over again by repeating the two words that determined both of your fates 3 years ago and keep walking away. 

“I lied.” 

#juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #juice soa #soa #sons of anarchy #soa fanfic #juice fanfic #juice fanfiction #soa fanfiction #sons of anarchy fanfic #sons of anarchy fanfiction #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you

[narcolini]

no goodbyes

juice ortiz x gn!reader, 2710 words

warnings for gun violence, injury, blood, whump and no happy ending

for day 5 of whumpril: Defiance | Dragged | Stifled Scream

a/n: shout out to @hausofmamadas for igniting this idea <3 and a tag for my juice girlies, @drabbles-mc​ & @cositapreciosa​​

‘You’re the best,’ is how Juice greets you, when you arrive at the clubhouse. Tupperware first, right into his hands. It’s lunch, freshly made, warm still, and delivered just as you’d told him it would be this morning. He was in such a rush to leave, that he didn’t have time to argue about it for once. You were bringing him food and that was it. Love you, thank-you, and then out the door he went.

‘Well, I know you aren’t likely to get a break,’ you answer, allowing a side-eye to Clay, who’s smoking in the table room, oxygen canister by his side. ‘And not eating isn’t an option, as much as you think it is.’ You look back at Juice, shrugging. ‘So.’ This is the closest you can get to helping.

‘Again,’ he smiles, ‘you’re the best.’

You hum something like an agreement, before leaning to meet him in a kiss. If it was up to you, he’d be coming home with you now, grabbing lunch on the way, spending the afternoon in bed. Relaxing, like he needs to. Enjoying the day off he should be sharing with you. He’d never step foot in this place again, if it was up to you.

He’s as reluctant as you are to break the kiss, one hand on your waist, pinching the flesh, keeping you there, the other hovering by your side, Tupperware ready and waiting to be opened. He’ll have to pick one of you soon enough. Only one is suitable for consumption in a dump like this, no matter what he fantasises about.

‘You can’t stay?’ he asks, kissing you again and leaving you no room to answer.

No, you reply, but it barely makes it out of your lips, lost in the immediacy of his own.

Stay? When everyone else is out on a ride, a run, and your only company is the cigarette stained ceilings and Clay? You love Juice, but you don’t love him that much.

‘I’d rather you come back with me,’ you argue, finally resolved enough to pull away from him, his lips, his tongue. ‘You know I can’t stand—’

Juice nods, half-laughing with his palm raised to stop you. ‘Yeah, I know.’ He chances a look behind him. Clay still hasn’t paid the two of you any notice. ‘Not the best crowd to entertain,’ he adds, considerate enough to lower his voice in a way you never would, not for Clay.

‘Do you really have to be here?’ Neither of them look busy, they weren’t even in the same room when you got here. ‘What’s he making you do?’

‘Yeah, I, well.’ He sighs. ‘It’s more that he might need me, at some point.’

‘Wow.’

‘Not here,’ he pleads, though you hadn’t intended to push it any further, ‘it’s not as easy as just saying no.’

But it is, it was, to the other members. That’s why it’s Juice here, playing lapdog to the old king, while the rest are out on business. It’s not in his nature to turn down someone in need, and Clay knows that. Not that you believe he’s in need to start with.

‘At least try and get off early,’ you say, pulling at the edges of Juice’s kutte. ‘I need you too.’

‘Okay.’ There’s that smile again. ‘That, I can do.’

And there’s the croak of him, too, the rumble of Clay’s voice through the open safe-door, just in time to ruin the moment. ‘You hear something, Juice?’

‘Yeah,’ you call back, ready to bite, ‘it’s a little thing called healthy communication.’

Only, you don’t get to finish the sentence; you’re cut off mid-word by the roar of gunfire, so many at once that it sounds like drilling, like construction work, loud and rattling. So sudden, that it hits you before you even realise what it is. They went through the walls, straight through, a vertical spray that hit chairs, tables, the wood of the bar. And you. It hit you.

Pain rips through your thigh, a wave of it so strong and hot that for a second you think the leg has gone, all of it, chopped clean off through the bone. You fall like it has, or maybe you’re pulled, ducked down and out of the bullet-spray horizon.

‘Shit,’ Juice spits, his hand on the back of your head, facing you toward the ground. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t realise yet. ‘The fuck?’

You try to tell him, but your voice isn’t there. It isn’t there. You can’t find it. Open your mouth, nothing, close it, grit your teeth until it makes them throb.

‘Come on.’ He’s trying to move you, to guide you behind the bar. Another power-drill of noise fills the room, glass shattering, dust flying, but he’s expecting it this time. He doesn’t even flinch. ‘Keep your head down.’

‘My.’ You swallow. It’s making your head spin, actually, white sliding into your vision. ‘Juice,’ you pant, ‘my.’

When you bring your hand up, from your thigh to shake in front of his face, it doesn’t look like it belongs to you. Can’t do, because you’ve never had blood on your palms like this. Red and wetting the fingers. You stare, as horrified by it as he is. It can’t be yours, you can’t be bleeding like that. People don’t survive when they bleed like that.

‘No.’ He sees it at last, making the connection that your voice couldn’t lead him to. ‘Fuck, no, where? Where has it—?’

He finds the source before finishing the question, then turns you, or lets you turn yourself, to sit on the floor. You’re glad of the bar behind you because it keeps you upright, skull to the wood. There’s a break in the gunfire, now, just a breath of it, but if it comes again you’ll have to fold forward to protect yourself.

‘Oh God,’ Juice breathes, and you know he’s palming at the wound, smothering the blood—you’re watching him do it—but you can’t feel a thing, can’t recognise his touch. Just tightness, throbbing, like your muscles are trying to escape through the skin. His hands stack on top of the opening for a moment, and then he’s tearing at your jeans, ripping the denim from the hole the bullet had made. ‘Fuck.’ He’s eyeing the wound, pausing for a moment that you can’t afford.

‘What?’ you ask, more of a breath than a word, a pant of exertion.

‘There’s—we gotta move you.’ His head snaps to look at you, expression unlike any you’ve seen from him before. A wild fear paired with unquestionable certainty. ‘Can you walk? If I help you?’

He’s undressing before you can answer, kutte discarded on the floor, hoody removed and spun into a thick make-shift rope. He puts it under your thigh, knots it around the bleeding as a wannabe tourniquet. You watch him pull it tight, then tighter, and feel none of it still. Just pressure on pressure.

‘Okay, you ready?’ he asks, but you’d never answered him. You never said that you could.

There’s a voice then, a roar, piercing through the bullet holes, the shattered windows, filling the clubhouse like the speaker’s in here himself. ‘Clay,’ it shouts, ‘this will be easier on both of us if you come out here.’

‘Is that—?’

‘Marcus,’ Juice confirms, reaching for your arms, your elbows. ‘We’re gonna move, okay?’

You shake your head, panic rising. ‘I can’t.’ Your leg is numb, heavy and useless. ‘Don’t.’

‘Just around the bar,’ he says, and your resistance can’t stop him now.

He tugs you by the elbows first, to peel away from the wooden facade behind, then gets a grip under your arms and pulls. Drags you backwards, with your legs out in front of you. You wince at the movement, hissing it between your teeth, because now you feel it, the pain again, and it’s doubled. That’s what he saw. There’s another bullet hole, one in the centre, the other on the edge of your thigh. They’re searing now, fresh and independent of each other.

‘Nearly there,’ he says from above.

You’re collecting shrapnel as you go, splinters of wood, glass. A ball from the pool table rolls past the base of your spine.

‘Alright.’ He stops, leaving you in the entryway of the bar, the first place he can that provides shelter. Or more shelter than you had before, at least. They’d have to get through all the layers of it before hitting you now. ‘I’m gonna—’

‘Clay!’ Marcus shouts again, bracketed by a few warning shots.

‘I’m gonna go check the back,’ Juice continues, eyes unmoving from yours, ‘then I’ll come get you. Okay?’

You nod. Your voice has gone missing again. No words, just the pulsing agony in your thigh and the swimming blurs in your eye-line.

‘Okay,’ he repeats, steeling himself, and then he’s gone.

This is where you die, then, while Juice is away and your tongue is sitting useless in your mouth. No final goodbyes, no loving last kisses. You should’ve dragged him out by his ear before Marcus and his club began their assault, before you could even hand him his fucking dinner.

You close your eyes, getting more nauseous from the spinning vision than the pain itself.

If you shouted out, maybe, if you found a way to tell Marcus that you were in here. You, an innocent, a very not-Clay victim, just wanting to get out and to a hospital before all the blood in your body ends up on the sticky clubhouse floor. Maybe then, he’d hold off his guys long enough for you to do it. With Juice’s help, you could do it.

‘Where is he?’

What? Your lids fly open, finding Clay right in front of you, crouched in your adopted shelter. You hadn’t heard him arrive, hadn’t heard him crossing from the table room to here, though he can’t have done it silently. Maybe you aren’t as awake as you thought, maybe everything you’re hearing is muffled under a blanket of shock you hadn’t noticed.

‘Why are you here?’ you manage, forcing the question through the ragged edge of your throat. ‘Why aren’t you out there?’

‘What, are you fucking crazy? He’ll kill me.’

And better you, than him, right?

Juice is back then, before you can waste your energy on telling Clay that he’s an asshole, out of breath and red with blood. Your blood, everywhere. His hands, his shirt, the lap of his jeans. You hand’t noticed that earlier. ‘I think we can get out the back,’ he says. ‘Saw a couple guys, but there’s a way past them.’

‘I don’t think I can walk, Juice.’

‘You can.’

You have to.

Clay’s watching the exchange, face folding into confusion. He clearly had other ideas. ‘You got your piece, kid?’ he asks Juice, like you aren’t there.

Juice starts, having seemingly overlooked his presence, an answer stuttering out of him. ‘What—yeah, yeah I got it.’

‘You got my six when I go out there?’

‘Now?’ he asks. ‘But we’ve gotta get to the hospital.’

Clay huffs, looking over his shoulder to the door. ‘It’s gonna have to wait.’ He looks at you. ‘You’re alright, aren’t you? Got that shit wrapped tight?’

You could kill him. You could reach out and strangle him, if your body listened to you when you told it to.

‘You’ve gotta be kidding.’ Juice laughs, voice pitching up in disbelief. ‘You want me to—no way, Clay, come on.’

He’s right to be laughing. It’s ridiculous, selfish and ridiculous, and crazy even for Clay. Fuck, even Marcus himself might say its absurd, to send Juice out there, and  leaving you in here to rot. They’re only after one person, aren’t they? Not three. Not the club and everyone connected to them.

‘No,’ he says, sharp now the surreal has dripped into sincerity; Clay is really expecting this of him, demanding it even. ‘No, we’re leaving.’

‘You forget what you swore to, kid? Club comes first.’

‘Fuck you,’ you grind out, under your breath. He’s one to talk, guilting about club loyalty. He’s lucky to even be wearing the patch still. ‘I hope Marcus gets you.’

‘Yeah,’ Clay snarks, eyes rolling, ‘looks like he got you first, honey.’

In a flash—painted metal, black, and dried blood, brown—Juice has brought the butt of his gun down on the side of Clay’s head. A surge of violence so unexpected, it makes you cuss, loud and startled. Fuck. Clay slumps, you watch him land on the ground by your feet.

‘We’re going,’ Juice says afterwards, gun clattering to the floor in exchange of you.

It happens so fast, that you don’t have time to question him, or enjoy the unlikely reality that is Juice fighting back, Juice, knocking Clay unconscious. Presumably left to the hands of the one man in the world who wants him dead, and has the balls to do it.

‘I’m sorry, baby,’ he says, lifting you the same as before, hands under your armpits, ‘but you have to walk this time.’

‘Okay.’ You’re nodding, and wincing, and pooling tears into your eyes as he gets you onto your feet. ‘I got it.’ If he can do that, you can do this. You can hop, or crawl, if that’s what he needs you to do.

‘That’s it.’

Your arm goes over his shoulder, your body slanting into his as he takes your weight—all of it, really, because you can only offer him the added momentum of your one working leg.

‘Fuck,’ you pant, following it with a noise you couldn’t replicate. A blurting of pain that defies the human alphabet.

‘I know.’ You can feel his eyes on you, his gaze flicking back and forth between the exit and your pained expression. ‘Only a little bit more.’

But every step feels like ten, every inch a mile.

When you reach the back exit, the door’s unlocked already, propped open with an empty beer bottle. Prepared in advance to make things easier. Juice goes through it backwards, to manoeuvre you both through the gap once it’s wide enough to clear.

It’s the stairs that prove difficult. Just three steps, down from the door and onto the back of the lot. He shoulders even more of your weight, knowing what’s to come, your toes barely touching the steps as his spine arches to accommodate it.

You make it down two of them without fault. On the third, Juice misjudges the drop, and your heel hits the ground in a way that jolts yours knee, your thigh, the humming wounds beneath his hoody.

You cry out, involuntary, causing Juice to slap his palm over your mouth to stifle the noise.

‘I’m sorry,’ he rushes, attempting to soothe, but only managing panic instead, ‘I know, I’m sorry. We’ve got to be quiet.’

You nod, uneven with it, and take a staggered breath through your nose.

‘Okay? Okay.’ He frees your mouth, lifting to wipe away the tears that’ve run down your cheek. Streaking red where there wasn’t red before. ‘You good?’ he asks, without pausing for a reply. ‘We can do this, okay? I’ve got you.’

He’s babbling, talking on a wheel because he’s nervous, afraid, losing grip of whatever adrenaline-fuelled tenacity he had before.

Relax, you want to say, I trust you, but you don’t make it. It never branches from tongue to life. When he starts walking again, you draped against his shoulder once more, it’s in silence. There’s only the drag of your limp leg over the concrete, the scuff of his toes as he tries to rush you both.

‘We’ll jack a car,’ he says, whispering it between breaths, ‘then straight onto the highway.’ His hand tightens on your side, so hard it’s squeezing the ribs. ‘You awake? Stay with me, okay?’

Yeah. ‘Yeah,’ you breathe, barely audible.

‘I’m quick with cars,’ he continues, talking to himself now, for his benefit and not yours, ‘spent too much time unsupervised as a kid.’ He pants. Adjusts his grip. Looks at you, you imagine, slumped against him. ‘Hey, eyes open, come on.’

Talking to himself now. His benefit, not yours.

‘Babe?’

#juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz x reader #juan carlos ortiz #sons of anarchy fanfiction #whumpril2023 #whumpril #tw: clay and clay hating LMAO

[drabbles-mc]

All For You

Juice Ortiz x OFC (Dakota Lowman)

Juice Ortiz & OFC (Diedra Lowman)

Inspired by the Week 1 Prompts for @the-slumberparty: bouquet of flowers & diamond necklace

Warnings: 18+, language, alcohol

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: The way I want to build a whole universe just for Di, Kota, Juice, and Happy. I wish I had the time and the mental bandwidth. Little snippets will have to do! Enjoy this fun lil valentine's fic!

SOA Taglist: @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @chibsytelford @juicyortiz @anditsmywholeheart @i-just-read-stuff @garbinge @justreblogginfics @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @nessamc @narcolini @darqchilddaydreamz (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Juice carefully extracted himself from the bed. He managed to untangle himself from Dakota without waking her, although that wasn’t the most difficult thing to do since she was probably the heaviest sleeper that Juice had ever met. She let out a small grumble when he pulled his arms from around her, but she didn’t wake.

He gently shut the bedroom door behind him as he stepped out into the short hallway that separated the two bedrooms from the rest of the apartment. He tip-toed past the door to her sister’s bedroom, not wanting to be responsible for waking her up either. He let out a small sigh of relief when he stepped into the space where the living room and the kitchen met, the only semblance of a divider between the two sides of the apartment was the counter that more often than not served as their dinner table if they weren’t eating in front of the TV.

Turning, he looked up from the floor and into the kitchen. His eyes widened and he gasped quietly when he saw Diedra standing in the kitchen, her back to him as she set the coffee pot to brew. Even though she hadn’t turned around to look at him, she still shook her head. He couldn’t see it, but there was a bit of an amused smile on her face.

She glanced back over her shoulder. “Coffee?”

He nodded, sitting down at the counter rather than trying to linger in her space. “Yea, sure. Thanks.” He paused, offering her a lopsided grin when she turned around to fully face him. “Was worried I was gonna wake you up, but…”

Diedra chuckled and shook her head. “I wouldn’t worry about that.” She saw the apprehension on his face so she clarified, “Because I’m pretty much always gonna be up before you anyway.”

Juice relaxed a bit at that. “Right.”

“Good thing you’re dating the one Lowman who actually sleeps in.”

Juice laughed quietly as he watched Diedra grab two coffee mugs from the cupboard. “Yea, good thing, because sleeping habits were why Happy and I never worked out.”

Diedra laughed as she shook her head. “Sometimes I forget that you can be funny, Juicebox.”

He nodded in thanks as she slid his mug across the counter to him. “Shit, Di, that’s like one of the only things I still have going for me at this point. You can’t forget that.”

She leaned against the counter across from him, hands cupping her coffee mug. “My bad,” she said with a smile.

There were a few beats of silence between them, and Juice desperately wanted to feel at ease about it but he didn’t, not fully anyway. He struggled less now than he used to with the nagging belief that Dakota’s sister was constantly plotting his murder. They weren’t exactly friends, and Juice didn’t know if they ever would be, but Diedra didn’t seem to have a big problem with him. He would take that as a win.

But in moments like that, when it was just the two of them without the buffer of Dakota, or Happy, or the chaos of the clubhouse, Juice still felt like he was squirming in discomfort. And she wasn’t even trying to make him do that anymore.

“Big plans for next week?” Diedra asked. She hadn’t ever been a fan of the holiday, but she knew for a fact that her sister was.

The question caught Juice off-guard. He took another sip of his coffee. “Big plans?”

She cocked one eyebrow. “Valentine’s Day?”

“Right! Right.” Juice knew that. Really, he did, but he always felt like he was taking some sort of test when he was talking to Di, and he was terrible at tests. “Um, yea, yea kind of.”

“Was worried you forgot when Kota didn’t come home giggling and squealing about you asking her.” She said it with heavy sarcasm but gun to her head she couldn’t deny that it was nice to see her little sister in a happy, fairly stable and somewhat normal relationship.

“Asking her? Asking her what?”

She took a sip of her coffee. “You know, to be your valentine or whatever.”

“I have to ask? She’s…I’m…we’re dating.”

Diedra was on the brink of cackling with amusement. “Dude, have you met my sister? Of fucking course, you need to ask her.”

“But she’s my girlfriend!” He sounded genuinely bewildered.

Diedra shook her head as she tried not to keep laughing. “Doesn’t matter. Gotta ask.”

She watched as Juice dropped his face into his hands and shook his head. All of the overthinking that he’d been doing about the actual day, and he missed the memo about even asking. He felt like he had just gotten booted back to square one.

Di felt something that felt like pity for him. “Look, it’s not like my sister is all that high-maintenance. She’ll be stoked with whatever. You could get her one of those cheesy valentine’s cards they make for kids to hand out at school and she would be hyped. Just,” she finished her coffee and set the mug in the sink, “make sure you do it.” She walked around the counter to grab her bag and her keys. “I’m heading out. Kota say if she needed anything?”

Juice shook his head. “She’s all set.”

Diedra nodded before offering a quick goodbye and heading for the door. Juice sat at the counter, taking his time as he mulled over what Diedra had just said to him.

When he finished his coffee, Dakota still hadn’t woken up. Despite the urge that he had to just go and crawl back into bed with her, everything that Diedra said was still playing on repeat in his head. So, instead of taking the lazy route of going back to sleep, he got up from the stool that he had been sitting on and made his way over to the refrigerator.

He went back and forth between a few different ideas for a minute. Making breakfast was a simple enough task. He’d done it a million times for himself before. He and Kota had definitely cooked together too. But now he was doing it while also overthinking everything that was going to be happening over the next week.

He rifled through the cupboards and fridge as he went back and forth on what he wanted to make. After weighing more pros and cons than any sane person would, he finally settled on French toast. It was low risk, high reward, and that was something that he could get behind.

With minimal struggle and almost no mess, Juice got through almost all of the cooking before Dakota woke up. He hadn’t heard her footsteps when she left the room and walked towards the kitchen, but the yawn that she let out as she crossed the threshold gave her away.

She walked over, still not fully awake, and leaned against Juice’s back. She rested her forehead in the space between Juice’s shoulder blades as she wrapped her arms around his middle. She felt Juice’s laughter before she heard it.

“Morning,” she mumbled against the fabric of his t-shirt.

He chuckled, placing one hand over hers for a moment before shutting off the stove and taking the last of the food off the stove. “Good morning.”

He felt the kiss that she lazily pressed into his back before she pried herself away from him. Stepped so that she was standing next to him instead of behind him, she looked at all of the food in front of her. Reaching, she swiped a piece of bacon off the plate next to all the French toast.

“What’s all this?” she asked.

Juice looked at her and laughed as she popped the bacon into her mouth. “Looks like you already know.”

“Yea, but, like,” she walked to the other side of him to grab a coffee mug for herself, “what’s it all for?”

“For you,” he answered simply.

She laughed, but there was a soft, happy look in her eyes. “You’re a sap.”

He shrugged, grinning. “Maybe.”

They sat at the counter, enjoying their quiet morning and breakfast for two. It was far from the first time that the two of them got to simply just exist like that, but no matter how many times it happened, Juice still found himself a little bit in awe of it all. He had never really considered himself the type of person who was cut out for that kind of thing, who would be allowed to have it. And he certainly never thought that Dakota was the kind of girl who would be interested in being with him like that. But there they were. And it never got old.

Juice finished off the coffee that was in his mug before saying, “There was something that I wanted to ask you.”

Dakota’s eyes widened, clearly curious. “Okay?”

“Would you, um,” he didn’t know why he felt nervous asking—it wasn’t like it was a question that she was likely to say no to, “would you want to be my Valentine this year?”

A cheesy grin spread across her face as she nodded. Leaning over, she kissed him on the lips. “I would love that, Juan.”

He had the same starry look in his eyes as he did the first time Kota ever kissed him. He finally nodded, forcing himself to speak. “Alright, yea, cool.”

Dakota laughed as she hopped off her chair to get herself another cup of coffee. “Yea, very cool.” She poured coffee into her mug before scooping in an unreal amount of sugar. “What’s the plan, anyway? For Valentine’s Day?”

He shrugged nonchalantly but there was a tiny smirk pulling at his lips. “I had some ideas.”

“Keeping me in the dark?”

“Surprising you sounds a lot better.”

She laughed, nodding as she walked back over to him. “I guess it does.”

As the days went by after that, Kota felt like every time she came back to the apartment there was always something waiting for her. They were small things—a card, her favorite snack, t-shirts of Juice’s that she had been trying to steal from him for weeks but never successfully took from his house. She wondered how he was always managing to sneak in and out and leave things for her without being caught. Anytime she asked Di about it, she just shrugged it off and claimed that she didn’t know anything about it. Dakota wasn’t sure how true that was but she wasn’t upset about it.

The closer it got to Valentine’s Day, the more intricate the gifts became. One night when Kota got home from work, she walked into the apartment and the first thing she saw was a beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting on the counter in the kitchen.

She looked over to Diedra, who was sprawled out across the couch in the living room, laptop rested on her stomach. “When did these get here?”

Di lifted her eyes from the screen, glancing back and forth between her sister and the flowers. “Loverboy dropped those off a couple hours ago. I told him I was very upset that he hadn’t gotten anything for me this last week.”

Dakota laughed as she walked over to get a closer look at them. She dropped her bag on the chair before standing on her tiptoes and slowly turning the vase to be able to see all of the flowers. The sunflowers and roses looked so vibrant together. Dakota lightly traced her fingers along some of the petals.

It took a moment for her to realize that there was a holder and a small card sticking out of the flowers. Her smile grew as she carefully plucked it to read. She was on the brink of giggling as she read Juice's handwriting. It always seemed to toe the line between elegant and messy. He was a few scribbles away from doctor's handwriting territory.

“Pack a bag and a dress tonight. I’ll be over tomorrow after work for the next adventure. –Juan"

She read it over a few times, gnawing lightly at her bottom lip as she did. Finally, she looked back at her sister. “He say anything to you about this?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I also didn’t ask.”

Dakota chuckled. “Right.”

She stared at the flowers for another moment longer before grabbing her bag and heading towards her bedroom. She flipped the light on and tossed her bag over onto her mattress. Without even bothering to change or take her shoes off, she knelt and pulled her overnight bag out from underneath her mattress.

Picking that up and dropping it on top of her bed, she unzipped it so that she could start putting clothes inside. She paused, confusion flashing across her face when she saw the jewelry box sitting inside the bag.

Reaching down, she picked it up and shook it next to her ear. She finally popped it open, her eyes growing wide at what was inside. Dakota had never been a diamond necklace kind of girl, and Juice knew that. If she had any doubts about that before, the beautiful gold chain staring back at her definitely wiped away any concerns that he didn’t pay attention.

She also noticed another small card with the same unique handwriting. “Maybe something that goes with this?” She laughed as she took it out of the box and latched it on. It fell nicely over her collarbone, the metal smooth and cool to the touch for now. She decided to leave it on while she packed up her things for the mystery trip Juice had planned.

It was late when Diedra finally decided to start getting ready for bed. Rather than going right to her own room, she walked and lingered in the doorway of Dakota’s. She rapped her knuckles lightly against the doorframe, causing her sister to look up from her phone.

Diedra nodded towards the bags on the floor. “Running off on me?”

Dakota laughed, shaking her head. “No, no.” She set her phone to the side. “I guess, um, I guess Juan has a night away planned. Told me to pack a bag.”

“Bringing some sort of knife or something with you?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, Di.” She paused. “But, yea.”

They both laughed and Diedra nodded in approval. “Good.” She pushed herself off the doorframe. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Dakota nodded. “See ya.”

It was creeping later into the afternoon when Diedra rolled onto the compound. The trip to Happy’s house had been pointless since he wasn’t home, but when she saw all of the bikes parked outside, she also saw his. She swung the car door shut and started making her way across the lot to the clubhouse.

Just as she was walking into the building, all of the guys were walking out of the chapel. She quickly scanned the looks on each of their faces—it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that whatever had been discussed and decided during church wasn’t sitting right with anyone. She didn’t feel bad for them, never really did. They all signed on for this so her pity was basically non-existent.

She saw that Happy was still talking to Jax and Clay. While she was waiting, she flagged Juice down and waved him over. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head. “Club shit.”

She rolled her eyes, not only at the vagueness of the answer but at the repetitiveness of the situation. “Always is.” She paused, looking at Juice’s face a little closer. “Shouldn’t you be going to get my sister for your big vacation?”

He sighed, looking up at the ceiling for a moment before shaking his head. “Can’t. We gotta—”

“What?” she cut him off.

The sharpness in her tone made him flinch. “I know, I know. I gotta call her. But they said—”

“Who’s they?”

“You know.”

She shook her head. “You can’t do that to her, Juice.”

“I don’t want to, but I can’t just—”

“Yes, you can.” She stepped in a little closer to him, her voice hushed but still cutting. “I don’t give a shit what these guys said they need you for. Club’s got a full roster, right? They can find someone else to do it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“You guys all love sayin’ that shit but I think it really is that simple.” She saw the debate resting on the tip of his tongue and didn’t let him get started on it. “Listen, you’re like, the first person Kota has dated in a long time that’s not a complete fucking asshole. I’m not going to let Clay, or Jax, or whoever the fuck is calling the shots these days, turn you into one.”

He knew that he shouldn’t be as shaken as he was, but there was always something about Diedra that was inherently terrifying. She was scary when she was in a good mood, let alone in situations like this.

“Wh-what are you gonna do?”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. You know me—I love any reason to have a fucking problem with Jax.” She saw the way that he was torn, almost stepping away to leave, almost stepping back towards church. She nodded in the direction of the door. “Go.”

“Right, right.” He mumbled out a quick thank you, although he wasn’t sure how thankful he was going to be about any of it when he got back. That was a problem for future him now, though. And also apparently a problem for Diedra.

Happy walked out of the chapel first, instantly clocking the way that Juice was scrambling towards the door. He walked over to Diedra, nodding at where Juice had just been. “Where’s he going?”

“He’s got some shit to do,” she answered nonchalantly.

Jax had been close enough to overhear their conversation. “He’s got shit to do for the club,” he interjected. “Fuck. He can’t just take off.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “he did. So, guess you can sort it out with him in a couple days.”

Jax narrowed his eyes at her. “What the hell did you say to him?”

“That if he had other shit to take care of, he should go do it, because you guys have enough people here to do whatever needs doing.”

“Di, are you fucking—” he stopped himself short, shaking his head. “Who’s gonna take care of it? You?” he said with a scoff.

She stepped closer to him. “Me? Sure. Or, maybe,” her eyes dropped down to the flash stitched into his kutte, “the fucking VP could handle shit for once. Just an idea.”

Jax shook his head. It was written all over his face that he was on the brink of combusting. Turning to Happy, he grit out, “Get this,” he gestured to Diedra, “under control.”

Happy’s expression didn’t really change much. He didn’t say anything to Jax, waiting until the man walked away before turning back to his daughter. “What’s going on?”

“What?”

“Juice. Where’d he go?”

“Didn’t you hear?” she asked sarcastically. “He took off.”

Happy knew that Juice wasn’t the type to just book it on the club. Either a sense of obligation or fear always kept him in line. “Why?”

“Kota.”

Happy’s brows drew together. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Diedra couldn’t help but to laugh. “It’s fucking, it’s Valentine’s Day, Dad.”

“Today?”

She laughed again. “Tomorrow.”

“Hmph.”

Diedra rolled her eyes, but she still had a smirk on her face because she knew what was going to happen. “Still wanna go get him?”

Happy sighed. “No.”

She clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s what I thought.” She walked around so that she was behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of beer for herself and holding one out to Happy. “Sit. Something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Back at the apartment, Juice felt like he had to catch his breath as he stood outside the door. He adjusted his kutte slightly before running his hands back over his head. After a few seconds, ones that seemed to stretch on longer than they should have, he reached forward and knocked.

In no time at all, he heard the clicking of the locks on the other side of the door. He didn’t know why he felt so jittery. The hardest parts were over—he had the girl, and he ditched the club. It should’ve been smooth sailing from here on out.

Dakota pulled the door open, looking as excited and as beautiful as Juice had ever seen her. Even though she was just in jeans and a t-shirt with her leather jacket, Juice could’ve sworn that he felt his knees start to buckle.

He finally forced himself to clear his throat as he leaned against the doorframe. “H-hey.”

“Ready to roll?” she asked with a smile.

He nodded. “Yea.” He watched as she reached out and tangled her hand with his own. “You?”

“Yea!” She tugged him into the apartment while she went and grabbed her bag. She lifted it up off the ground and slipped the strap over her shoulder. “Was starting to get nervous for a minute there,” she said with a laugh.

He shook his head, flashing a small smile as he reached and took her duffle bag from her. “C’mon, like I would ever leave you hanging.” He chuckled as she leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He could feel his face get hot as he busied himself adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “Nice necklace, by the way.”

She laughed, dragging her fingers along the gold chain of it. “Thanks. Got it from this pretty cool guy I know.” She followed him out the door, turning around and locking it behind them once they were out in the hall. Turning back to him, she asked, smile still bright, “So, do I get to know where we’re going now? Or is it still a surprise?”

Juice laughed, shaking his head as he gestured for her to walk down the stairs. “Oh, yea, no, it’s definitely still a surprise.”

She shook her head, laughing the entire way down, “Of course it is.”

#sons of anarchy #soa #soa imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz x oc #juice ortiz imagine #juan carlos #juan carlos ortiz #oc dakota lowman #oc dakota #oc diedra lowman #oc diedra #sons of anarchy fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc #navy and roo's sleepover #navy and roo sleepover