#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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[undiscovered-horizon]

"Hypothetically speaking" - Juice Ortiz x Reader

SUMMARY: It's basic etiquette to not try your luck with a friend's girl. But when that friends seems to have no respect for the girl, perhaps it's basic etiquette to give her the affection she deserves.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3k

Truthfully, everyone knew it wasn't going to work out - everyone except for you. Whether you are too pure or delusional, the thought never even occured to you, while the other members of the motorcycle club knew the bitter end the moment they saw you. At first, none of them thought much of it. That's just how Jax Teller rolled, there is nothing new in that matter. It was the subsequent weeks that made them dread the inevitable:

Jax brought you around the clubhouse to help out with the accounting, housekeeping or party-throwing. Usually, you were holding a pan, a broom or a pen in your hand. Or certain other things whenever Jax needed tending to his more carnal desires.

Nonetheless, the other Sons have gotten to know you personally and it was that new friendship that bore dread in their chests. You seemed to have a curious talent for making people feel seen. Even the smallest of details never escaped your attention. Refilling the bar for the night, you'd always find time to ask Happy about his mother's health and how he was holding up. Chibs and Tig have come to expect you to ask them about their children. Their answers rarely changed and so did yours: 'I'm sure they're thinking about you.' The biggest surprise came from the prospects as they had grown accustomed to everyone pushing them around and yelling at them. So when you'd ask them whether they were hungry, at first they were sure it was some kind of a test or a ruse.

For Juice, those little signs of a soft heart were nails in his coffin. Whenever he was spending several hours in front of the computer, you'd appear with a drink and a small snack. On top of that, you always made it seem like these small acts of service are something obvious - it would be entirely strange to not care for others simply because you can. Usually, your presence would slow down his progress as Juice was willing to exchange his worktime for a conversation with you. As desperate as it may sound, he came to the conclusion that his job will still be there in twenty minutes but you will be gone the moment Jax enters the clubhouse and takes you away. Sometimes he wondered if he had Teller's charisma, would you give him a chance? Considering you were seeing his friend, he never planned on acting on his feelings. Even the thought made him cringe: fantasizing about fellow member's girl? That's a rather large 'no-go'.

As usual, the dread settled in the men's chests when you entered the clubhouse. Then, it grew ten sizes as they all silently realised that the inevitable was about to play out in front of their hungover eyes. You passed the threshold in a somewhat hesitant manner like you always did, unsure whether you're interrupting something or are even wanted there. Bobby, Tig and Chibs greet you but they're unable to hide a strange sadness to them. None the wiser, you chalk up their lack of humour to the aftermath of a night filled with vices.

The clubhouse is a temporary ruin. Bottles and glasses are scattered across all flat surfaces. One of the tables is slanted, missing one of its legs. A few pairs of bright-coloured underwear are lying here and there. Something tells you that yesterday you missed a truly historic night of fun.

"Is Jax around?" you ask. The men exchange a meaningful gaze but it goes unnoticed by you. "He left his shirt at mine yesterday afternoon, I was hoping to return it."

Tig's face cringes. There's a sorry look in his eyes. "Sweetheart-"

"He just left, actually," Bobby interjects. "Don't know when he'll be back."

You look between them, beginning to sense tension. "Alright," you answer, unsure what to make of the situation. "Then I'll just leave it in the dorm room."

Their silence makes you wary like there's a piece of information that you're missing while it's fairly obvious to others; something hidden in plain sight. You walk past them, when Tig's conscience puts up a fight once more. He makes a step towards you, hoping to stop the disaster about to unfold. Chibs, however, grabs his arm before the man can realise his plan.

"He's made his bed, brother," the Scotsman says in a low voice lest you hear their conversation.

"Come on, man," Trager answers with a look of disbelief on his face. "She doesn't deserve that."

"Aye, she doesn't." The man nods. His stern expression reveals that he, too, is more than unhappy with the unfolding events. "But it's already happened."

Juice is either really lucky or terribly unlucky to be walking down the corridor at the same time as you. His lips widen in a smile and he's about to call out to you, when he notices the white t-shirt in your hand. In a split second of considering his selfishness and your feelings, Juice decided to act against his own interest. He picks up his pace and manages to block the dorm room door just as you were about to put your hand on the handle.

"You really don't want to go in there. Trust me." Juice is trying his best to sound like he's joking but he's not a good liar - especially when you're the one he's attempting to deceive. True feelings are slipping through the cracks and you notice his nervousness.

"What do you mean?" you ask. The weirdness of the guys' behaviour that day is putting you on edge. What on Earth is going on? "It's not like there's a biological warfare behind that door."

Two laughing voices are audible from inside the room: one belongs to Jax, the other probably to a woman. Something stirs inside you, anxious and dreadful but you push it further down. No need to get upset before you get all the facts, right?

"See? Everything's fine," you say to Juice, although the reassurance is really for yourself.

The door swings open with a slight moan of the hinges. Then, as you take in the scene before you, it feels like time has slowed to a halt. Jax is sitting on the edge of the bed, scandily clad in the thin bedsheets. Maybe he covered himself when he heard the door open or he wasn't planning on getting up just yet. In the bathroom doorway stands Ima, dressed in a rather tacky purple lingerie - the cheap kind that desperately tries to have some semblance of luxury. Had the situation been less agitating, maybe you'd think that it's a fitting piece of garment for a woman of her sort.

It's hard to say whether it's the shock or resilience but you manage to keep yourself whole. The last thing you're going to do is cause a scene.

"Brought your shirt." You disturb the akward silence. Jax's expression is unreadable but Ima appears rather amused - there's a sly grin on her face. Her quiet snickering makes tears pool in your eyes. "Thought you might want it back."

Wanting to evacuate as fast as you can, you lay the t-shirt on the dresser by the door and turn around to leave the room. Juice hesitantly whispers your name as you brush past him but you can only muster a quiet apology.

Jax, suddenly realising the consequences of yesterday's impulsiveness, hastily puts on a pair of pants. He keeps yelling your name, begging you to stop and let him talk to you properly but you don't give in. Running out of the dorm room, he's stopped by Juice, who grabs his arm.

"I think you've done enough, man," Ortiz states in an angered tone.

For a moment, the two of them stare each other down in silence. The tension feels like a forest fire - one moment of carelessness might lead to a true disaster.

Both men are aware of the other's affections. It is only now that they admit this knowledge.

"You need to back off," Jax whispers. Juice is disillusioned that the Vice President would have no inhibitions in caving his face in.

But lovers oh-so-frequently tend to grow just a little unwise the more they love. Perhaps that has made all the difference on that dreadful morning.

"No," Juice says while shaking his head, "I think I should go after the crying girl who just saw her boyfriend naked in a bed with someone else."

"That's not your concern."

Looking over the blond's shoulder, Juice catches Ima's malicious amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing and not for a moment did she feel bad about it. When he looks at Jax again, his dark eyes carry more contempt than anger. "Apparently, she's not your concern either."

Before the young Teller can continue their argument, Ortiz is running down the hallway. Bobby, Chibs and Tig ask him something but he only gives them a disinterested 'later' and continues his search for you.

Despite the perfect view of the parking lot from the rooftop, you didn't notice Juice approaching you. Only when you heard the rattling of the ladder did a wave of shame flood your mind. You didn't want anyone seeing you like this, especially people of formidable grit. Some part of you dreaded being considered weak. If you were just a little more honest with yourself, maybe you'd realise that what you were truly afraid of, was the outside confirmation of what you'd already believed about yourself - too weak, too emotional to ever fit in this life.

The shame, however, seems to evaporate the moment you see Juice's apologetic expression. He always had a strange air about him, an aura you couldn't quite explain. Something about the man makes you think that you could tell him the most asinine or embarrassing thing and he would never think less of you.

With a hesitant, quiet 'hey', Juice sits down next to you. Despite his own desires, he leaves a gap between the two of you. His eyes keep switching between looking at his fiddling hands or the side of your face as though he's unsure what's the correct course of action.

"I'm stupid, aren't I?" you finally speak up. Turning your head to look at Juice, you notice a sudden change in his expression - for some reason, he looks like he's about to burst into tears, too. "Believing that he would settle for me?"

There's so much he wants to say. An entire monologue is prickling at his tongue. You'd be the one settling for him, not the other way around. Never. But Juice manages to keep those thoughts to himself for now as they are not what you need to hear at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, one day he'll get to show you that whoever you decide to marry, no matter how noble or rich, you will be the one settling for them.

"There's only one stupid person in this situation and it's not you," he says in a serious yet gentle tone. "Okay, maybe three stupid people."

Despite his resolve, Juice is only a man and he, too, must break at some point. His hand fearfully reaches for your cheek. When you don't pull away, he hesitantly wipes away a tear rolling down your face.

"Three?" you ask in a quiet voice.

"Jax is one, for obvious reasons." With the back of his hand, Juice wipes away the other side of your face. "Ima is two. And the third... is me."

Confused, you furrow your eyebrows. "You? You're not stupid, Juice. Why would you say that?"

"I'm the king of stupid, actually." He lets out an airy, bitter chuckle. Suddenly feeling small, he retracts his arm. "I just tried to cover for my dick friend, so the girl I'm in love with doesn't get her heart broken. Extra stupid points for running after her like a lost puppy that just wants to make her happy."

"That sounds more lovely than stupid," you manage to whisper before another wave of emotions wreaks havoc. Tears stream down your face again but this time it's not only the bad feelings - there's something nice among them, too. A sense of relief and belonging; an overwhelming realisation that you're loved as a person and not only as a woman.

He doesn't complain or lecture you. Neither does he attempt empty words of comfort and encouragement. Juice doesn't know what he should say, so he settles for silence. However, his quietness speaks volumes. With a soft expression on his face, he keeps wiping your tears away.

"What do I do now, Juice?"

"Whatever you want," he answers with a strange lightness to his voice. It appears that his response is not something carefully woven but rather a cliché.

You sniffle loudly and although there's nothing attractive about that, it's candid. In Juice's eyes, it only makes you more beautiful. "Right now, I don't know if that list is very short or ridiculously long."

A corner of his mouth rises in a nostalgic smile. He seems to be recalling a memory.

"Remember that one time when you couldn't sleep and found me working at the clubhouse?" Juice asks. You only nod, unsure why he would suddenly remind you of that. "Remember what you told me when I talked about all the things I still needed to get done?"

"It's only three things," you repeat under your breath. Truthfully, you have almost forgotten entirely about that conversation. Juice had been going on about all the complicated steps that had to be done before calling it a day but, in the end, it was only three things. Granted, three time-consuming, challenging things but only three nonetheless. You never thought your comment meant so much to him.

"Exactly," he says as though he had just given you the perfect recipe for anything and everything. "I'm suggesting, you do two things now. First of all, get over the guy that couldn't appreciate you."

"Sounds smart but I'm not sure I know how to do that," you admit with a nervous chuckle. Jax Teller has been a tornado to your soul: came suddenly, wreaked havoc and simply moved on. There is no one to clean the mess, no one to put the pieces back together except those that survived. And you're still at the stage of debating whether you have, actually, survived Jax Teller.

"I guess the first step is not going back to him."

As simple as it sounds, the solution might just be one of the hardest things you've ever done. Nothing good comes easy, as they say. If it's true, you're going to reach for something truly incredible with this resolution.

"And the second thing I should do?" you ask. Deep inside, you're paying he's about to suggest something silly or relaxing.

Suddenly, Juice turns shy. This biker guy with tattoos and a loaded gun is fiddling with his hands and stubbornly avoiding your gaze. Despite his appearance, you think he's adorable.

"Well, uh..." He clears his throat in a vain attempt to get rid of his shakey tone. "If you want, no pressure of course but if you find it in yourself, then maybe you could at least think about grabbing dinner with me?" Whatever your expression looks like, it must make him even more nervous as Juice immediately begins downplaying his question. "Like I said, no pressure. I know it's bad timing all things considered, so it's cool if you don't want to, it's okay-"

"I'd love to," you interrupt him.

For a moment, he silently stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Cool. That's, um... nice."

You see him ever so slightly cringe at his awkward response but you don't think him weird. No, the nervousness makes you all the more convinced you want to go out with him - the anxiety proves that he cares more than he's brave enough to admit.

"Can we add a third thing?" you ask hesitantly.

Juice smiles at you as if today is the best day of his life; the kind of smile that slowly mends broken hearts. "What's on your mind?"

"Say, just hypothetically, how annoying would it be if Ima's car had slashed tires?"

He nods slowly, a shadow of mischief dancing across his handsome features. "Really annoying."

"And if she had to pay for new ones and there'd be a bullshit charge on the receipt like premium air or something?"

The man laughs. How can a sound leave you breathless?

"She would have a really fucking shitty day," he answers.

"Just hypothetically, I'd be satisfied."

"I think I know a guy. Just hypothetically."

Silence falls between you again. It's not tense. No, it's quite the opposite - the silence of two people who can just be. Now that happiness or at least a lack of sadness has entered your face, Juice is staring at you with an expression you can't describe beyond soft. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was not looking at you but at a rare, priceless treasure he has spent his whole life searching for. But you do know better; you know that, perhaps, people can be priceless, too.

A dark thought suddenly clouds your mind: Jax used to look at you the same way. Not always, not for long but he did. And yet, as he has proven, it meant nothing for him.

You push those thoughts away with all the almost-depleted strength you have left. It's no use crying and ruminating about the past when you have your future sitting right next to you. A bright, terribly good-looking future, one might even say.

"Can you just hold me?" you ask him quietly. The heartbreak of Jax's choice and the elation of Juice's confession have left you tired and vulnerable beyond all imagination. Such opposite emotions are ripping you open in conflicting directions. It's like dying and being reborn all at the same time.

"As long as you need, baby."

Juice wastes no time happily fulfilling your request. He brings your legs over and across his own, nudging you even closer towards him. Gently, he pulls your head to rest in the crook of his neck. As strange as it may sound, the man feels like a fortress protecting you from past and future heartbreaks.

[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.'"

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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.

[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.

[juicesgf]

sorry, tiggy {J.O}

Warnings: none just cute fluff with our baby!

a/n: i could definitely make a series out of this if you guys are interested:)!

if you’d like to be tagged when i post for Juice comment or dm me!!

“You’re positive this will work?” Juice questioned, holding out the doll in his hand, looking at it weirdly.

“Yes! Tig is petrified of dolls, he so deserves this after his last prank. Plus he’s the one that started the prank war!” Y/n laughed, setting up the last of the dolls inside Tigs house.

“I can totally see why he’s scared of them now.” Juice cringed as he placed the doll by his front door. When he stood back up and looked around a smirk formed on his face “This is gonna be so good, we have to record!” Juice grinned setting up a camera he borrowed from Cara Cara, placing it behind a dish on the table.

When they heard the sound of a bike approaching Y/n grabbed Juices arm, dragging him out Tigs back door trying to contain her laugh. “Come on!” She whispered, closing the door quietly behind her.

She leaned up against the side of Tigs house, Juice at her side, the biggest smiles plastered on their faces.

All it took was the sound of Tig’s high pitched scream echoing outside for them to break out in laughter, running down the street towards where they parked their ‘getaway’ car. Knowing they were coming back shortly for the camera.

[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.” 

[dallianceangel]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 🫦🫨

Here’s a little something for all the Juice lovers out there 💋

🦋 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🦋

You’re sitting on the vibrating washing machine in your garage, lost in the sensation, when Juice walks in from a run, his surprise turning into a smirk. “You really missed me that much?”

You jump, cheeks turning bright red as you nod. “I didn’t think you’d be home until later, I just couldn’t wait.”

Strangers walk past the house, eyes widening at the scene. Juice notices the tension in your body and steps closer, his gaze intense. “I see you’re almost there.”

You nod, and he kisses you deeply. You moan into his mouth, coming undone as his touch heightens your pleasure.

Juice holds you close, his breath warm against your skin. “Glad I could make it better, babe.”

[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.

[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.”

[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.

[ravennaortiz]

Request

Ohh can you pretty please do a juice one with prompts 17 & 41?? And maybe a little angsty and smutty? Please & thank you!

Prompts

17. I love you

41. How did you get that brusie?

A little angsty and smut for our sweet baby boy Juice? I sure can do that! As Always my stories are 18+. TW: DV,Infidelity

Requested by @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog

Love Rising

Juice isn't sure why he said it. Too be fair he hadn't realized he had spoken those three words out loud. It wasn't until he realized you had frozen, still hovering over his face that he realized he had uttered them. The silence was some how so loud. His grip on your entwined hands tightened, wanting to keep you from running. He was kicking himself mentally for being so stupid. Neither of you were in a position where this could be public.

Your heart was pounding not just from the orgasms Juices skilled mouth had pulled from you but also his words. The implication that what had been quickies and sneaking around had turned into much more. You couldn't deny you too had fallen for him as well. "I love you too" you whispered as you leaned forward pressing your lips to his. Your kiss was cut short by your phone going off. You both glanced at the clock knowing it was Chibs letting you know your old man was on his way home.

*Later that Night*

"How did you get that bruise?" asked Jax glaring at your inner thigh as his fingers traced the darkened area of skin.

"I don't know. You know how clumsy I am" you replied carefully with a small laugh. Jax simply nodded before moving back over you, his mouth finding yours.

You tried not to flinch at his touch. He repulsed you and the relationship between you two had been dead for awhile due to his inability to keep it in his pants. If it had legs, a warm hole and somewhat breathed you could guarantee your Old man had been inside it at least once. Not that you had much room to judge after what you had been doing with Juice.

Jax had been suspicious you were stepping out when you refused him in bed months ago. Little did he know you hadn't yet but him setting his intelligence officer on you had been all the fuel you needed to do so.

You had been so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't realized Jax had stopped kissing your neck. The fury in his eyes told you that Juice hadn't been as careful earlier as he thought. "You fucking whore" growled Jax as he grabbed a fistful of your hair.

***

"Are you okay?" inquired Juice as he knelt next to where you sat on your bed, gun still in your trembling hand. "Is he dead?" you asked your eyes still on Juice but far away. You had no idea how long you and Jax had been fighting for before you had grabbed his gun off the nightstand and blindly fired.

Juice glanced over to Chibs who nodded. "Don't think you missed a single shot Lassie" murmured Chibs as he looked over Jax's bullet hole riddled body. "I'll get this taken care of. Take her home and get her cleaned up and in bed" stated Chibs as he pulled his phone out to start making calls.

Once Chibs was out of the room you chuckled softly. "Guess we don't have to hide anymore" you whispered as Juice grinned and kissed your forehead.

Want more Juice? Click here

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[ravennaortiz]

OMG! I loved this soooooo much! Seriously all the feels!

"Hypothetically speaking" - Juice Ortiz x Reader

SUMMARY: It's basic etiquette to not try your luck with a friend's girl. But when that friends seems to have no respect for the girl, perhaps it's basic etiquette to give her the affection she deserves.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 3k

Truthfully, everyone knew it wasn't going to work out - everyone except for you. Whether you are too pure or delusional, the thought never even occured to you, while the other members of the motorcycle club knew the bitter end the moment they saw you. At first, none of them thought much of it. That's just how Jax Teller rolled, there is nothing new in that matter. It was the subsequent weeks that made them dread the inevitable:

Jax brought you around the clubhouse to help out with the accounting, housekeeping or party-throwing. Usually, you were holding a pan, a broom or a pen in your hand. Or certain other things whenever Jax needed tending to his more carnal desires.

Nonetheless, the other Sons have gotten to know you personally and it was that new friendship that bore dread in their chests. You seemed to have a curious talent for making people feel seen. Even the smallest of details never escaped your attention. Refilling the bar for the night, you'd always find time to ask Happy about his mother's health and how he was holding up. Chibs and Tig have come to expect you to ask them about their children. Their answers rarely changed and so did yours: 'I'm sure they're thinking about you.' The biggest surprise came from the prospects as they had grown accustomed to everyone pushing them around and yelling at them. So when you'd ask them whether they were hungry, at first they were sure it was some kind of a test or a ruse.

For Juice, those little signs of a soft heart were nails in his coffin. Whenever he was spending several hours in front of the computer, you'd appear with a drink and a small snack. On top of that, you always made it seem like these small acts of service are something obvious - it would be entirely strange to not care for others simply because you can. Usually, your presence would slow down his progress as Juice was willing to exchange his worktime for a conversation with you. As desperate as it may sound, he came to the conclusion that his job will still be there in twenty minutes but you will be gone the moment Jax enters the clubhouse and takes you away. Sometimes he wondered if he had Teller's charisma, would you give him a chance? Considering you were seeing his friend, he never planned on acting on his feelings. Even the thought made him cringe: fantasizing about fellow member's girl? That's a rather large 'no-go'.

As usual, the dread settled in the men's chests when you entered the clubhouse. Then, it grew ten sizes as they all silently realised that the inevitable was about to play out in front of their hungover eyes. You passed the threshold in a somewhat hesitant manner like you always did, unsure whether you're interrupting something or are even wanted there. Bobby, Tig and Chibs greet you but they're unable to hide a strange sadness to them. None the wiser, you chalk up their lack of humour to the aftermath of a night filled with vices.

The clubhouse is a temporary ruin. Bottles and glasses are scattered across all flat surfaces. One of the tables is slanted, missing one of its legs. A few pairs of bright-coloured underwear are lying here and there. Something tells you that yesterday you missed a truly historic night of fun.

"Is Jax around?" you ask. The men exchange a meaningful gaze but it goes unnoticed by you. "He left his shirt at mine yesterday afternoon, I was hoping to return it."

Tig's face cringes. There's a sorry look in his eyes. "Sweetheart-"

"He just left, actually," Bobby interjects. "Don't know when he'll be back."

You look between them, beginning to sense tension. "Alright," you answer, unsure what to make of the situation. "Then I'll just leave it in the dorm room."

Their silence makes you wary like there's a piece of information that you're missing while it's fairly obvious to others; something hidden in plain sight. You walk past them, when Tig's conscience puts up a fight once more. He makes a step towards you, hoping to stop the disaster about to unfold. Chibs, however, grabs his arm before the man can realise his plan.

"He's made his bed, brother," the Scotsman says in a low voice lest you hear their conversation.

"Come on, man," Trager answers with a look of disbelief on his face. "She doesn't deserve that."

"Aye, she doesn't." The man nods. His stern expression reveals that he, too, is more than unhappy with the unfolding events. "But it's already happened."

Juice is either really lucky or terribly unlucky to be walking down the corridor at the same time as you. His lips widen in a smile and he's about to call out to you, when he notices the white t-shirt in your hand. In a split second of considering his selfishness and your feelings, Juice decided to act against his own interest. He picks up his pace and manages to block the dorm room door just as you were about to put your hand on the handle.

"You really don't want to go in there. Trust me." Juice is trying his best to sound like he's joking but he's not a good liar - especially when you're the one he's attempting to deceive. True feelings are slipping through the cracks and you notice his nervousness.

"What do you mean?" you ask. The weirdness of the guys' behaviour that day is putting you on edge. What on Earth is going on? "It's not like there's a biological warfare behind that door."

Two laughing voices are audible from inside the room: one belongs to Jax, the other probably to a woman. Something stirs inside you, anxious and dreadful but you push it further down. No need to get upset before you get all the facts, right?

"See? Everything's fine," you say to Juice, although the reassurance is really for yourself.

The door swings open with a slight moan of the hinges. Then, as you take in the scene before you, it feels like time has slowed to a halt. Jax is sitting on the edge of the bed, scandily clad in the thin bedsheets. Maybe he covered himself when he heard the door open or he wasn't planning on getting up just yet. In the bathroom doorway stands Ima, dressed in a rather tacky purple lingerie - the cheap kind that desperately tries to have some semblance of luxury. Had the situation been less agitating, maybe you'd think that it's a fitting piece of garment for a woman of her sort.

It's hard to say whether it's the shock or resilience but you manage to keep yourself whole. The last thing you're going to do is cause a scene.

"Brought your shirt." You disturb the akward silence. Jax's expression is unreadable but Ima appears rather amused - there's a sly grin on her face. Her quiet snickering makes tears pool in your eyes. "Thought you might want it back."

Wanting to evacuate as fast as you can, you lay the t-shirt on the dresser by the door and turn around to leave the room. Juice hesitantly whispers your name as you brush past him but you can only muster a quiet apology.

Jax, suddenly realising the consequences of yesterday's impulsiveness, hastily puts on a pair of pants. He keeps yelling your name, begging you to stop and let him talk to you properly but you don't give in. Running out of the dorm room, he's stopped by Juice, who grabs his arm.

"I think you've done enough, man," Ortiz states in an angered tone.

For a moment, the two of them stare each other down in silence. The tension feels like a forest fire - one moment of carelessness might lead to a true disaster.

Both men are aware of the other's affections. It is only now that they admit this knowledge.

"You need to back off," Jax whispers. Juice is disillusioned that the Vice President would have no inhibitions in caving his face in.

But lovers oh-so-frequently tend to grow just a little unwise the more they love. Perhaps that has made all the difference on that dreadful morning.

"No," Juice says while shaking his head, "I think I should go after the crying girl who just saw her boyfriend naked in a bed with someone else."

"That's not your concern."

Looking over the blond's shoulder, Juice catches Ima's malicious amusement. She knew exactly what she was doing and not for a moment did she feel bad about it. When he looks at Jax again, his dark eyes carry more contempt than anger. "Apparently, she's not your concern either."

Before the young Teller can continue their argument, Ortiz is running down the hallway. Bobby, Chibs and Tig ask him something but he only gives them a disinterested 'later' and continues his search for you.

Despite the perfect view of the parking lot from the rooftop, you didn't notice Juice approaching you. Only when you heard the rattling of the ladder did a wave of shame flood your mind. You didn't want anyone seeing you like this, especially people of formidable grit. Some part of you dreaded being considered weak. If you were just a little more honest with yourself, maybe you'd realise that what you were truly afraid of, was the outside confirmation of what you'd already believed about yourself - too weak, too emotional to ever fit in this life.

The shame, however, seems to evaporate the moment you see Juice's apologetic expression. He always had a strange air about him, an aura you couldn't quite explain. Something about the man makes you think that you could tell him the most asinine or embarrassing thing and he would never think less of you.

With a hesitant, quiet 'hey', Juice sits down next to you. Despite his own desires, he leaves a gap between the two of you. His eyes keep switching between looking at his fiddling hands or the side of your face as though he's unsure what's the correct course of action.

"I'm stupid, aren't I?" you finally speak up. Turning your head to look at Juice, you notice a sudden change in his expression - for some reason, he looks like he's about to burst into tears, too. "Believing that he would settle for me?"

There's so much he wants to say. An entire monologue is prickling at his tongue. You'd be the one settling for him, not the other way around. Never. But Juice manages to keep those thoughts to himself for now as they are not what you need to hear at this moment. Maybe, just maybe, one day he'll get to show you that whoever you decide to marry, no matter how noble or rich, you will be the one settling for them.

"There's only one stupid person in this situation and it's not you," he says in a serious yet gentle tone. "Okay, maybe three stupid people."

Despite his resolve, Juice is only a man and he, too, must break at some point. His hand fearfully reaches for your cheek. When you don't pull away, he hesitantly wipes away a tear rolling down your face.

"Three?" you ask in a quiet voice.

"Jax is one, for obvious reasons." With the back of his hand, Juice wipes away the other side of your face. "Ima is two. And the third... is me."

Confused, you furrow your eyebrows. "You? You're not stupid, Juice. Why would you say that?"

"I'm the king of stupid, actually." He lets out an airy, bitter chuckle. Suddenly feeling small, he retracts his arm. "I just tried to cover for my dick friend, so the girl I'm in love with doesn't get her heart broken. Extra stupid points for running after her like a lost puppy that just wants to make her happy."

"That sounds more lovely than stupid," you manage to whisper before another wave of emotions wreaks havoc. Tears stream down your face again but this time it's not only the bad feelings - there's something nice among them, too. A sense of relief and belonging; an overwhelming realisation that you're loved as a person and not only as a woman.

He doesn't complain or lecture you. Neither does he attempt empty words of comfort and encouragement. Juice doesn't know what he should say, so he settles for silence. However, his quietness speaks volumes. With a soft expression on his face, he keeps wiping your tears away.

"What do I do now, Juice?"

"Whatever you want," he answers with a strange lightness to his voice. It appears that his response is not something carefully woven but rather a cliché.

You sniffle loudly and although there's nothing attractive about that, it's candid. In Juice's eyes, it only makes you more beautiful. "Right now, I don't know if that list is very short or ridiculously long."

A corner of his mouth rises in a nostalgic smile. He seems to be recalling a memory.

"Remember that one time when you couldn't sleep and found me working at the clubhouse?" Juice asks. You only nod, unsure why he would suddenly remind you of that. "Remember what you told me when I talked about all the things I still needed to get done?"

"It's only three things," you repeat under your breath. Truthfully, you have almost forgotten entirely about that conversation. Juice had been going on about all the complicated steps that had to be done before calling it a day but, in the end, it was only three things. Granted, three time-consuming, challenging things but only three nonetheless. You never thought your comment meant so much to him.

"Exactly," he says as though he had just given you the perfect recipe for anything and everything. "I'm suggesting, you do two things now. First of all, get over the guy that couldn't appreciate you."

"Sounds smart but I'm not sure I know how to do that," you admit with a nervous chuckle. Jax Teller has been a tornado to your soul: came suddenly, wreaked havoc and simply moved on. There is no one to clean the mess, no one to put the pieces back together except those that survived. And you're still at the stage of debating whether you have, actually, survived Jax Teller.

"I guess the first step is not going back to him."

As simple as it sounds, the solution might just be one of the hardest things you've ever done. Nothing good comes easy, as they say. If it's true, you're going to reach for something truly incredible with this resolution.

"And the second thing I should do?" you ask. Deep inside, you're paying he's about to suggest something silly or relaxing.

Suddenly, Juice turns shy. This biker guy with tattoos and a loaded gun is fiddling with his hands and stubbornly avoiding your gaze. Despite his appearance, you think he's adorable.

"Well, uh..." He clears his throat in a vain attempt to get rid of his shakey tone. "If you want, no pressure of course but if you find it in yourself, then maybe you could at least think about grabbing dinner with me?" Whatever your expression looks like, it must make him even more nervous as Juice immediately begins downplaying his question. "Like I said, no pressure. I know it's bad timing all things considered, so it's cool if you don't want to, it's okay-"

"I'd love to," you interrupt him.

For a moment, he silently stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Cool. That's, um... nice."

You see him ever so slightly cringe at his awkward response but you don't think him weird. No, the nervousness makes you all the more convinced you want to go out with him - the anxiety proves that he cares more than he's brave enough to admit.

"Can we add a third thing?" you ask hesitantly.

Juice smiles at you as if today is the best day of his life; the kind of smile that slowly mends broken hearts. "What's on your mind?"

"Say, just hypothetically, how annoying would it be if Ima's car had slashed tires?"

He nods slowly, a shadow of mischief dancing across his handsome features. "Really annoying."

"And if she had to pay for new ones and there'd be a bullshit charge on the receipt like premium air or something?"

The man laughs. How can a sound leave you breathless?

"She would have a really fucking shitty day," he answers.

"Just hypothetically, I'd be satisfied."

"I think I know a guy. Just hypothetically."

Silence falls between you again. It's not tense. No, it's quite the opposite - the silence of two people who can just be. Now that happiness or at least a lack of sadness has entered your face, Juice is staring at you with an expression you can't describe beyond soft. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was not looking at you but at a rare, priceless treasure he has spent his whole life searching for. But you do know better; you know that, perhaps, people can be priceless, too.

A dark thought suddenly clouds your mind: Jax used to look at you the same way. Not always, not for long but he did. And yet, as he has proven, it meant nothing for him.

You push those thoughts away with all the almost-depleted strength you have left. It's no use crying and ruminating about the past when you have your future sitting right next to you. A bright, terribly good-looking future, one might even say.

"Can you just hold me?" you ask him quietly. The heartbreak of Jax's choice and the elation of Juice's confession have left you tired and vulnerable beyond all imagination. Such opposite emotions are ripping you open in conflicting directions. It's like dying and being reborn all at the same time.

"As long as you need, baby."

Juice wastes no time happily fulfilling your request. He brings your legs over and across his own, nudging you even closer towards him. Gently, he pulls your head to rest in the crook of his neck. As strange as it may sound, the man feels like a fortress protecting you from past and future heartbreaks.

[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...

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Safe - Juice Ortiz x Reader (Daughter!Reader x Dad!Happy Lowman)

Request:

A/N: I hope you enjoy anon! I'm sorry this ended up being more Reader x Happy (daughter/father) than Juice x Reader. I'm thinking of doing a part 2 if anyone is interested. Also, lets say that reader is early 20s and Happy was like 15 when she was conceived otherwise I feel like the age gaps would get a little inappropriate.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex (off page), kissing, swearing, mentions of killing and violence

Word Count: 1984 words

You wiped the sweat from your brow as you panted, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each inhale and exhale. Sitting up, you leaned onto one side, resting your weight on your elbow on the bed as you looked down at Juice. He was puffing like you, a satiated smile spreading across his face as he let his eyes roam down the length of your body hungrily. You rolled your eyes and huffed out a laugh, dragging the top sheet up from the end of the bed and draping it over your clammy skin. "No, no, no," Juice tutted, ripping the sheet away from you. "Don't hide from me now." He gently nudged you back down, leaning over you and grazing his teeth against the soft skin of the top of your breast.

You gasped lightly, trembling as his hands began to map the warm skin of your torso. "Juice," mumbled as he kissed your exposed chest, slowly making his way towards your peaked nipple. "Hmmm?" he hummed against your skin, drawing a shuddered breath out of you. "We gotta get up," you pushed him off you gently and he groaned, flopping onto his back dramatically and throwing his arm over his eyes to shield them. "Don't wanna," he pouted. You laughed and leaned over, pressing your mouth against his. "You need to get to TM and I told Jax I would watch Abel today, since Gemma isn't up for it and Tara is working."

Juice groaned again. "Do you think bikers can take sick days?" he asked. You just laughed, standing up and grabbing both of your towels from where they hung on the back of your bedroom door. You threw them at him, staring hungrily at his naked form as he made his way to your ensuite. "Your dad has really been giving me shit lately, it's almost like he knows somethings going on," he said. Your stomach soured, any inkling of arousal now completely extinguished. "I really don’t appreciate you bringing up my father after what we've just been doing," you grated out. Juice only laughed, disappearing into your bathroom and turning the shower on.

You pulled on your dressing gown and made your way to your kitchen, switching the electric kettle on and grabbing two mugs out of the cupboard. The low rumble of a motorcycle engine made you pause, tilting your head to the side as you listened. The noise got closer, and suddenly your pulse began to sprint as the bike audibly slowed down out the front of your house. You rushed to the front door, peaking through the curtained window to the side of it. "Shit," you cursed as you watched Happy Lowman swing himself off his bike, undoing his helmet. "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," you whispered in a panic, running to your bathroom.

You dragged the shower curtain open quickly, making Juice jump. "Jesus Christ, sweetheart, couldn't wait to get in here huh?" he wiggled his eyebrows seductively. "Juice, baby, I need you to be quiet, ok," you said, waving your hand at him to get him to shut up. His brow furrowed in confusion. "It's funny that you mentioned my dad…" you trailed off. Juice's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "What?!" he asked. You held a finger to your lips as you heard your front door open. "Ok, keep quiet and let me get rid of him."

"'Ey kid, you here?" Happy called out. You left the bathroom, shutting the door behind you and making your way out to where your father stood. You ran a hand over your hair and pulled your dressing gown closer to your body as you walked towards him. "Hey dad, not like you to swing by this early," you smiled, trying to act calm while your heart thundered in your chest. Happy looked you up and down, a scowl on his face. Hiding things from your dad was damn near impossible, and when you did you felt extremely guilty for it. But with your situation with Juice, you had no choice. There was no way he would allow it, and you didn’t want Juice to end up as another tattoo on your fathers stomach.

"You don't want me here?" he grunted, flicking the toothpick in his mouth from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, resting your fists on your hips as you shook your head. "What? No! Of course I want you here, I just… wasn't expecting you that's all," you rambled, motioning to the kitchen. "Otherwise I would of made you some breakfast." Happy's eyes drifted to the kitchen, landing on the two mugs you had left out. You swallowed, your smile faltering. "Looks like you were expecting someone," he scowled. You nodded slowly. "Yeah, I mean, I heard your bike coming so… I thought you might want a coffee or something," you smiled. "But you came from your bedroom?" he asked. You huffed out a frustrated laugh. "Geez, what's with the interrogation?"

Happy only tilted his head, crossing his arms as his mouth pulled into a grumpy frown. "I was running to turn the shower off," you explained. Happy shook his head. You could feel your lies unravelling at the seams, your stomach beginning to feel queasy. "Shower's still on," he prodded. You swallowed thickly, nodding. "I know, I'll go turn it off now," you turned on your heel and began to walk away. "Why is Juice's bike out the front?" he asked. You froze immediately, cold washing over you from head to toe. Slowly you turned, meeting your fathers eyes. "Is it?" you asked, your voice a higher octave. "Maybe he knows the neighbours or something," you tried to shrug nonchalantly, scrabbling to hold onto your last efforts to keep your secret.

"Wrong," was all you father said before he brushed past you, heading into your room. You spun after him, grasping his arm in an attempt to stop him from going any further. "Wait, no wait, dad please I can explain," you pleaded as he shrugged out of your grip. He opened your bedroom door and froze when he saw Juice's cut and clothes folded neatly on the armchair in the corner of your room. Happy turned to you, his face now in an angry grimace. "Don't hurt him," you begged, your voice a hoarse whisper. Happy just kept moving, pulling open the bathroom door and ripping the shower curtain to the side. Juice yelped, covering his groin, his eyes bouncing between you and Happy frantically. "Oh, hey Hap," he said awkwardly, a scared smile on his face. "Fancy seeing you here?"

"Get dressed," Happy barked. "And get to the clubhouse. Now. Before I do something to make you both cry." He pulled the curtain shut and spun to face you. "Living room, now," he growled. "I think there's some things you need to tell me." You nodded, your eyes downcast, unable to meet his stare. Happy left the room and you followed miserably, your heart feeling ready to fracture. No doubt this was the end of you and Juice, there was no way in hell Happy would let you keep seeing him, especially after you had lied about it. Despite being a legal adult, you still never wanted to do things to disappoint your father. Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness. That and you wanted to prevent the amount of dead bodies piling up in the San Joaquin area.

You slowly sat down on the couch, the backs of your eyes stinging and a lump forming in your throat. You tried to squash the sensations, knowing Happy wouldn’t have any sympathy for tears at this moment. You heard your bedroom door open as Juice stepped out, now fulling clothed, doing his cut up. He stopped when he saw you sitting on the couch, your hands folded in your lap timidly, your eyes brimming silver with unshed tears. He glanced between you and Happy, and for a second you were sure he was going to make his way to you , perhaps comfort you. But instead he turned, and made his way to the front door. It wasn't until the door had closed and you heard his bike start up and pull away that Happy spoke.

"You keepin' shit from me now?" he asked. You shrugged, picking at one of your nails. "You would never have allowed it," you sniffed, blinking the tears away. "Allowed what?" Happy prompted. You looked up at him, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth. You motioned your head towards the front door that Juice had left through. "Juice and I…" you leant back into the cushions of the couch. "And what are you?" Happy asked. Your brows pulled together. "What?" you questioned. "You and Juice," Happy grated. "What are you?" You scoffed and shook your head. "You really want me to explain?" you choked out. Happy shook his head. "You his Old Lady, or what?" he pressed.

Your mouth pressed into a line, and you shook your head. "No, it's not like that it's just… casual," you said. Happy's face turned bitter. "What, so you would be ok with it if I was his Old Lady?" you asked, confused and a little hopeful. It was your fathers turn to shrug. "Just don’t want you being treated like some croweater," he admitted. You sat up straighter, shaking your head. "He doesn’t treat me like that dad," you said, holding a hand up when Happy tried to cut you off. "Seriously, he's so sweet. The sweetest. And kind and generous, and thoughtful. He's funny and understanding and-" "Alright alright, I get it," Happy cut you off. "I feel safe with him," you admitted. "There's not many people I can say that about."

Happy knew you were right. Since you were young it had been you and him. Your mom had split and even though he had his mom and aunt to help out when you were younger, you two had basically been joined at the hip. He had been there for every bumped head, scraped knee, fractured bone and broken heart since you had entered this world. He was your safe place to land, and to hear you admit that someone else made you feel that way too - although in an obviously different way - had him feeling conflicted. On the one hand, he didn’t want to share you. Wanted to hide you from the world and not let anyone ever know about you. But on the other hand, you weren't his little girl anymore. At least not physically. You were all grown up, and to know that someone other than him made you feel safe, well… who was he to stand in your way.

Slowly he nodded his head. "Gonna take me a while to be really ok with it," he said. "But I ain't gonna stop you from doing what you want. Or being with who you want. Especially if he makes you happy." You stood abruptly from the couch, a slow smile spreading across your face. "Wait, what?" you sputtered. "If he makes you happy then I don’t see why I should stop… whatever it is you’re doing," he gestured vaguely. You grinned and raced over to your father, wrapping your arms around his middle tightly. He gripped you back, resting his cheek on the top of your head. "But if he hurts you, then he's gotta die. Like a lot," he vowed. You rolled your eyes and pulled away. "Yeah, yeah, drama queen," you pushed Happy away. "Gonna go talk to him," Happy said, moving towards the front door. "Wait, wait, what? No, what?" you blabbed, following him. "Gotta make sure he knows what'll happen if he fucks this up," he explained. "You're not gonna hurt him are you?" you asked. Happy smiled dryly. "Don't worry. I'll leave his pretty face alone."

[garbinge]

Picnic

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Day 20 from these April Prompts: Picnic

Summary: Just a biker picnic gone wrong.

Words: 1.3k words

A/N: First time writing juice and I decided to go a little more fluff heavy which I think made me stuggle with this a little more than I thought so I added in some angst at the end lol. 

Warnings: Mentions of guns, bullets, shooting, blood, wounds, not too much though, but also flulff in the beginning hehe. SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

Normally the scene of hundreds of bikers in the park would turn heads but this was the one time a year where everyone in Charming accepted it. The annual Charming x Redwood fundraiser, food, raffles, contests, all to raise money for Charming schools and recreation. 

The entire Redwood charter was there obviously, but the invite had extended out to multiple charters in the surrounding areas. That’s why the park had been packed with kuttes and bikes. 

You had just laid down your picnic blanket and put out your bag full of snacks that you had bought from one of the concession stands that were set up. You pulled a book out of your bag and were about to sit down when you heard your name being called. Turning, you saw Gemma with her hands full making her way over to one of the raffle tables. 

“I need you to help me set this up.” Gemma called over to you. 

With a deep sigh that you tried to hide well you made your way over. The one ask, turned into many and before you knew it you were all over the little area of the park you were permitted to be on. 

Just as you were setting up a table full of baked goods, you felt hands wrap around your waist. You jumped back out of reflex but you relaxed when you heard his laugh and you moved back into his arms. 

“Hey, I’ve been lookin’ for you.” He squeezed you a little tighter before you turned around in his arms resting your hands on his kutte. “Where ya been?”

“I’ve been around, Gemma asked for my help setting up. I laid out some stuff over there,” You pointed to your blanket that was abandoned near one of the larger trees in the area. 

“You wanna go chill for a bit? I miss you.” His voice was chipper. 

It was true, between your job, the club, and just everyday life things, it had been a while since you just had a moment alone with your boyfriend. 

“I wish I could but Gem’s got me setting this up and then I’m on kid duty.” Your head moved over your shoulder where the swingset was to point towards the group of kids who were running around frantically, climbing on things and making havoc. 

Juice let out a laugh, his hands still wrapped around you. 

“You two go, be in love.” Gemma’s voice alerted from the other side of the table as she placed down more sweets. “I got this and I’ll have one of the girls watch the kids.” 

It was rare that Gemma offered compassion to anyone let alone you. Your brows frowned as you stared at her in question. “You sure?” 

“Yea, I’m sure. Just wrap it up,” Her brows lifted and a smile crept up on her face, “we got enough gremlins runnin’ around right now, don’t need more.” 

The comment earned a chuckle from both you and Juice. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the picnic blanket before Gemma could change her mind. 

Juice made himself at home on the blanket without a second thought, using the tree as a backrest and patting next to him for you to join. Grabbing your book from your bag you plopped down on the blanket, using Juice’s lap as a headrest. His hand came and began to caress the top of your head, causing you to close your eyes for a minute and soak in the affection. 

“Whatcha readin’?” Juice asked, looking down at the book that was now laying flat, open, and down on your chest. 

“Nothing if you keep massaging my head like that.” You hummed still with your eyes closed. 

Juice let out a chuckle and then his face went into confusion. “I’m not sure if that means I should stop or keep going.” His hand had stopped moving now, but it was still on the crown of your head. 

You smiled while grabbing the hand on your head and bringing it to your lips to place a soft kiss to it before picking back up the book. “I got snacks over there, feel free to have at it.” 

Before Juice was able to even think about grabbing a snack, his name was being called by the club. 

“Juicey!” Chibbs’ accented raised voice alerted you both to look over at the group of guys who were in the middle of getting into something. The lot of them were laughing and drinking which made you realize it wasn’t something club related they needed him for, but maybe just as much you missed him they did too. Juice’s smile grew on his face even when he looked back at you. 

“Go.” You rolled your eyes, if you wanted time with Juice you were going to have to plan it later, if he said no to them now, he’d just be called over later. 

“Love you.” He pecked your cheek before getting up and jogging over to the guys, leaving you alone on the picnic blanket. 

____

You weren’t alone for much longer before you were dragged back over to the life of the party. At least it included the group of guys, you were able to get some time in with Juice even if it wasn’t just the two of you. 

The group of you stood as you played some version of cornhole in the middle of the park, you had so many drinks that it had turned into some form of soccer and cornhole combined. 

“Come on, Tiggy, toss it over.” You called out as Juice stood behind you blocking the cornhole board as Tig kicked the bean bag over with a laugh. Before the bean bag reached halfway over to you, there was a loud popping noise causing pretty much everyone around you to get alert. That was until the popping continued and it sounded almost like cracking. There wasn’t a chance for you to get a glimpse at what was happening because Juice was moving on top of you. His arm moved over your body and he pushed you to crouch down as he blocked you from the outside world. 

Bullets. His actions made you realize you were being shot at. Some of the guys were quick to respond by shooting back while others were quick to protect the innocents around them. Juice being one to come to your protection without second thought. Your heartbeat rose as your body thumped against the ground, Juice’s body heat against your back being the only thing to bring you any sort of security or comfort until the shooting stopped.

“Holy shit, you alright?” He spoke directly to your ear as he was crouched around you. 

“Yea, yea. I’m fine.” You were now standing up with him as he checked you over eagerly, not realizing your shoulder got clipped. “Next time, let’s just have a picnic by ourselves.” You joked while a part of you was being serious. 

Juice’s eyes went wide as they zoned in on your shoulder that was leaking blood out of it slowly, nothing fatal but enough to be a cause for concern. 

“Yea, good idea.” Juice quickly used his gloved hands to apply pressure to your wound which is when the reality of everything set in and the adrenaline wore off. Your face filled with worry and scrunched up in pain. His eyes met yours and while his expression was filled with worry too, it was also filled with determination.

“Hey, once we get this cleaned up, I’m takin’ you on the best fuckin’ picnic you ever had.”

[ravennaortiz]

Lol love it !

sorry, tiggy {J.O}

Warnings: none just cute fluff with our baby!

a/n: i could definitely make a series out of this if you guys are interested:)!

if you’d like to be tagged when i post for Juice comment or dm me!!

“You’re positive this will work?” Juice questioned, holding out the doll in his hand, looking at it weirdly.

“Yes! Tig is petrified of dolls, he so deserves this after his last prank. Plus he’s the one that started the prank war!” Y/n laughed, setting up the last of the dolls inside Tigs house.

“I can totally see why he’s scared of them now.” Juice cringed as he placed the doll by his front door. When he stood back up and looked around a smirk formed on his face “This is gonna be so good, we have to record!” Juice grinned setting up a camera he borrowed from Cara Cara, placing it behind a dish on the table.

When they heard the sound of a bike approaching Y/n grabbed Juices arm, dragging him out Tigs back door trying to contain her laugh. “Come on!” She whispered, closing the door quietly behind her.

She leaned up against the side of Tigs house, Juice at her side, the biggest smiles plastered on their faces.

All it took was the sound of Tig’s high pitched scream echoing outside for them to break out in laughter, running down the street towards where they parked their ‘getaway’ car. Knowing they were coming back shortly for the camera.