#my writing; juice ortiz

[garbinge]

Secret's Safe

Jax Teller x Ortiz!F!Reader Juice & Sister!Reader 30 Day Fic Challenge

Word Count: 3k A/N: I had more thoughts to make this more of a Juice fic but then.... Jax LOL.

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Mentions of blood, murder, death, assault, secrets, lying, trauma, abuse.

Word Count: 3k SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

As you opened your eyes, they squinted quickly as the bright sun hit them immediately.  After blinking a few times, they tried to take in your surroundings. You were in the passenger seat of your car, the green signs on the highway were moving extremely quickly past you. It took you a minute to focus to see what was on the signs but soon enough you caught one that said Stockton 75 miles. That meant you weren’t too far off from where you were headed before you ran into the person at the wheel of your truck currently. That thought made you immediately snap your head over to see the blond haired man, hand on the steering wheel, white knuckled, his reaper hat holding back the oiled hair from the sleepless night prior. 

“You look like shit.” You spoke up, clearing your throat as you did, placing his jacket that he had draped over you on his backpack. 

It was the statement he had said to you when you ran into him at the truck stop last night. It was meant to be humorous but once he got a good look at you, he realized it held way more truth than he expected. The genuine concern is what brought him to load his Harley in the bed of your truck, and continue your drive out to Charming for you. 

Staring at the smile growing on his face sent you back to the days you were falling in love with Jax Teller. Back when he had the kutte without the weight of the office patches. 

“Didn’t want you to feel left out.” His voice sent a shiver through your body. It had been half a decade since you last saw him. It made you look him over more closely. His hair was longer, Jax always sported the long blonde look but this was a lot more lengthy than before, like something had happened that led him to forget to get it cut. As you looked at his beard, you thought maybe that was more the sign that things hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing for him. Your eyes moved down to his kutte, despite being new to you, the vice president patch on his right was dirty and worn. 

“You think we could stop somewhere for me to freshen up, I don’t really want to jump scare my brother.” You started to look through your backpack for your toiletries as you spoke. 

“Was planning to go to my place first, I know how you are with him.” His knuckles tightened on the wheel as the sentence left his mouth.  

You weren’t sure whether you were annoyed or comforted by his statement. You knew exactly what he meant, and it was unreal to you that despite the insanity of this situation, you could still fight about the same things you fought about then. 

“And how am I with him?” It was said in a way that you both knew the answer, but you wanted Jax to humor you, or maybe you just wanted to finally win this fight. You stopped your search for whatever in your bag and looked at him, eyebrows raised waiting for an answer. 

“Cautious.” He spoke the word immediately and you felt the argument practically line up in your voice like it was muscle memory. 

Keeping your relationship a secret was ultimately what broke you both up. And that’s what made you move back to the east coast where you and your brother grew up. 

Jax followed up his statement quickly before you could let out a syllable of your argument. “For the record, I get it now. I think I was still a stupid young kid wanting to flaunt my girlfriend around.” 

This was completely new to you. 

You looked him over again and despite the distressed look to it, you caught the fresh stitching. The patch was not only new to you but new to him as well. 

“I guess being the second in command makes you mature.” 

“Makes you see what people can handle, too.” His voice was firm as he spoke, eyes still on the road. 

“He wouldn’t have been able to handle it.” You agreed knowing your brother well. He was fun-loving, caring, hilarious, but he had demons. And if anyone else’s found their way to him, you knew it’d break him because he’d try so hard to take them on his own. Not saying Jax and your relationship was bad, it was surprisingly one of the better ones you’d been in, but you knew by having that, you’d be taking away the one thing that kept your brother stable. 

“He gonna be able to handle what brought you out here?” 

That snapped you out of your thoughts. Your eyes said it all but he didn’t even need to be looking at them to feel your shock and need for explanation. 

“I saw the blood in the bed of your truck when I was loading my bike. Thought I’d taught you better than to leave behind evidence.” 

“That’s mine.” It was so pointed how you said it. 

That made Jax’s brow arch in curiosity. As fucked up as it sounded, it was relieving to you to be talking to someone who wasn’t shocked by the possibility of mysterious blood or being on the lam from a crime. To be talking to someone who almost found curiosity in the thought of the situation. 

“I got mixed up with this group of friends out east.” He didn’t need to pry the information out of you, this was never an issue between you, sharing your thoughts with each other, talking through everything, was never the problem. Telling other people was. “Real party kids, you know, we were drinking, doing drugs, having a good time, until we weren’t.” You took a deep breath before getting into the depths of the story. 

“We were hanging out on the front porch of someone’s house, it was late, or early, however you wanna describe it, and someone rolled up, I guess someone brought a friend who knew some not so great people.” 

Jax had a feeling he knew where the story was going but he wanted to hear it from your account.

“I got stabbed.” This part of the story was so straight to the point compared to the rest. The context here didn’t matter much compared to the lead up. 

“Still missing the part where you got blood in your truck.” Jax was only saying this because you stopped talking and he knew there were pieces of the story missing. 

This was where it was hard to say what happened, partially because you couldn’t believe how stupid you were to let this happen to begin with, but also since it was traumatic. 

“They tossed me in the bed of the truck and left me there to die.” 

Jax’s grip got tighter against the wheel and he sucked his lips into his teeth, the anger rising as he thought about it. 

“Obviously I didn’t.” You tried to lighten the mood. 

“And you decided to come back here.” Jax nodded, fully understanding the story. 

“After I killed the person who left me to die. Who just happened to be the one who stabbed me.” Again, the words came out with no lead up, just the point. 

Jax’s eyes darted to you when you said it. Funny enough, it was what he expected the situation to be. An ex got abusive, it ended badly, or maybe an accident when you were drunk, but the thought went out once you ended your story. 

“Did–” He was beginning to ask how you handled it, you knew that was what he was wondering. 

“I handled it. No trace. I was coming back here just because I needed my family, needed a familiar face.” 

“Sorry this familiar one looks like shit.” Jax was now trying to lighten the mood. 

“It was an unexpected one too. I wasn’t even going to come to the clubhouse, was going to go straight to a motel and then right to Juice’s.” 

“No love lost, I see.” He let out a laugh. 

“More like too much love lost.” You leaned back in the seat and placed your feet up on the dash. 

__________

You pulled back the shower curtain and wrapped the towel around your body, turning to wipe the fog off the mirror and stare at yourself. The shower brought some life back to your face, but the only thing that was going to make you look well rested was rest. 

As you opened the bathroom door, you started to talk loud, calling out and asking if you could take a nap but your words got cut off as you slammed right into Jax whose hand was raised to knock on the bathroom door. 

“Sorry.” He chuckled and stabilized you by wrapping his hands on your bare arms. 

It was at that moment that the both of you realized this was the closest you’ve been in years. You felt Jax’s breath on your face, it smelt like coffee which made you smile inside. Something about the domesticity of him in his home drinking his morning cup of coffee. 

“I was coming to see if you wanted french toast or waffles.” There was that domesticity again. 

“Jax Teller, who used to burn eggs, is offering me french toast or waffles?” The water was still dripping down your skin as you spoke. 

“Alright.”  his head twisted to the side as he laughed and then looked back at you, his finger now on your shoulder catching one of the stray drops before retracting his hand and looking back at your eyes. “They’re pre-made in a package from the freezer, was just gonna toast ‘em, not get all fancy.” 

“I’ll take both.” 

“Both it is.” He was turning around to go back into the kitchen and you felt your breath exhale the moment he turned. 

You both never got a chance to eat together, he came back to ask you about coffee or orange juice and ended up in his bed. Breakfastless and clothesless. 

As much as it broke you to sneak out, you did it. Sneaking out like this reminded you of what you were trying to leave behind, but now, you had to remind yourself of how safe you felt being here. With Jax. You stepped into the kitchen and saw the toaster housing the burnt french toast accompanied by the burnt waffle in the slot next to it. You laughed and grabbed both, they’d still be better than the junk you were eating on the road. Grabbing a pen you left a note on the table for him. 

Thanks for everything. Taking your burnt breakfast and heading to my brother’s. See you around. xx

With that, you were leaving. It was late afternoon now, meal times didn’t really have a time clock when you were traveling with no sense of time. Driving to your brother’s at this point was like muscle memory, you didn’t have to give it any thought and before you knew it you were there. 

One thing about Juice was that he’d always welcome you with open arms and no questions. Okay some questions, but none that ever felt forced or pointed. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He was so chipper and genuinely excited to see you as he opened the door. 

“Refugee looking for shelter.” You smiled back and brought him in for a hug. 

“Come in.” Juice pushed the door open completely and with his free hands moved to grab your bag out of your hand. 

Immediately you felt like a piece of scum in his pristine apartment and you hadn’t even had the grime of the ride on you anymore. “You live here or just showcasing the place?” You teased him. 

He sucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth and made a clicking noise. “I like to keep things neat.” 

“I know we lived in the same house together for years.” You looked at the art on the walls, the only sign that someone made a home of this place. There were pictures of you both, pictures of Juice with your childhood dog, pictures of the club, SOA flags and Harley memorabilia. 

“Hey I have this in my bag.” You smirked and moved to grab your backpack from his hands, he still hadn’t dropped it anywhere likely because he wasn’t sure where it’s place was in his sterile home. 

You pulled the photo out from the side pocket, it was wrinkled and folded, the complete opposite of his. 

“It’s before I started sponsoring, when I just worked at the shop.” He smiled, grabbing the photo from your hands. “You brought me and the guys homemade turkey sandwiches.” 

“You always left your lunch at home.” You shook your head at the memory, “I hated coming by with just food for you.” It was true, you’d make a sandwich for the 4-5 guys that were working that day. It became a sort of bit, the guys were crossing their fingers that whenever Juice was working with them, he’d forgotten his lunch. It helped that you came with a bag of chips and a 6 pack along with the sandwiches. That’s what the picture was. You, Juice, Jax, and Lowell eating turkey sandwiches and washing it down with a beer. 

“Everything okay?” Juice’s voice got solemn as he spoke, still looking down at the photo. 

“It is now.” You nodded with a smile. 

“You need my help with anything?” This time his voice raised an octave, in a more happy way. 

“Just a place to crash.” 

“Second room’s all yours.” He waved his arms in the direction of the room because he knew you were well aware of where it was. 

“I’ll be sure to disinfect my bag before putting it down.” You teased him with a slight push and made your way to the room that used to be yours years ago. 

By the time the two of you caught up, you leaving out the big details that you easily shared with Jax, it was nighttime. He brought you to the clubhouse, excited to share your arrival with the guys, and just happy to have his sister back in town. 

You were plopped on one of the picnic tables as some of the club sat around you, laughing about some joke Tig just said, most of you laughing at him more than with him. Your beer was nestled in your hand as you sipped slow on it, not really feeling like getting drunk much these days. 

“You’re nursing that beer.” Happy’s gruff voice alerted you. It was soft enough that only you heard him. 

“Long drive cross country, it’s making me more tired than anything.” You explained, it was partially true. 

But Happy saw through it. 

“You killed someone.” 

If you had been drinking the beer you would have spit it out by the abruptness of his comment. 

“Excuse me?” You frowned and looked at him, you probably met this member a handful of times but you didn’t know him like you knew some of the other crew. 

“I can tell, you got that vibe.” He nodded his head, his voice extremely raspy. 

“That vibe?” You raised your brows. 

“Yea, that life ain’t hold the same innocence vibe.” He answered you quickly. 

“How would you know what that vibe is?” You were playfully asking now, knowing that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if anyone here knew what you did, but it wasn’t something you were just blurting out. 

He laughed at that and didn’t answer the question. “Don’t worry your secret’s safe with me.”

“You freakin’ out our guest, Happy?” Bobby was walking out from the clubhouse, followed by Juice with a new beer for you despite you still not having this one nearly finished. 

“Happy?” You frowned and looked at Juice as you grabbed the beer. 

Happy grinned and lifted his shirt up to show his abdomen littered with smiley face tattoos and suddenly with no explanation at all, every question you just asked in the last 5 minutes was answered. 

“Oh.” You grabbed your nursed beer and finished it off quickly before moving to the new and cold one. 

Before the conversation could continue, the sound of two motorcycles cut the sound of voices out completely. Your eyes moved to see who it was, even though based on who was here now, the options were limited. You caught a glimpse of his long locks when he took the helmet off. Instinctually your eyes jumped to the movement of the person who came in behind him, tall and burly, and despite him still being far back in the shadows, you knew it had to be Jax’s friend Opie. With ease, your eyes moved back to Jax as he brought his hand through his hair. It was oily again, or still, which had you starting to wonder what his day looked like after you left. 

“Jax!” Juice called out from behind you and it brought you back to the current moment as Jax approached, taking off his riding gloves with a big smile on his face. “Look who's back on the west coast.” Juice was beyond excited to tell Jax, the thought of bringing back the days when the group of you would hang out clearly driving his enthusiasm. 

“Yea, I–” Jax was about to say how he ran into you the night before, you knew it, but your eyes went wide and your head shook just ever so slightly as a hint to let him know you didn’t want Juice to know. Luckily you were behind Juice on the picnic table so he wasn’t able to see it but Jax did clearly. 

What wasn’t clear was how he was taking your action. He seemed a little upset, but also he had a slight smirk on his face. 

“Yea, I see that. It’s good to see you.” He changed his sentence, his eyes staring at you. 

Behind him was Opie who clearly was aware of what happened between the two of you and was trying to hide his smirk from the awkwardness between you and Jax that only you three hopefully could feel. 

Jax took a step forward and you moved off the picnic table to stand. His arm raised to bring you in for a hug. 

“Thank you.” You whispered and squeezed him a little extra. 

“No worries, as always, secret’s safe.” 

[drabbles-mc]

Shooting Stars

Happy Lowman x Juice Ortiz

Warnings: 18+, mentions of anxiety

With the help of This Prompt List by @creativepromptsforwriting and my trusty Wheel of Names with every character I’ve ever written for, I’m aiming to write a fic in 500 words or less every day of March. We’ll see how far we get!

Prompt: comet

Word Count: 386

A/N: i think about these two so much and i love them so dearly

“People think it’s a shooting star,” Juice said as his leg bounced, “but it’s actually a comet.”

“Mhm,” Happy grunted out before taking a sip of his beer.

The two of them were sitting on the roof of the clubhouse, the chaos and noise below just static to them now. The sky was so clear, so beautiful. It was a peaceful world from the rooftop up, a stark contrast to everything underneath it. That was how the two of them had ended up there in the first place.

“Sorry.” Juice’s gaze dropped down to the bottle that he held in his hand, fingers wrapped tightly around the neck of it. “I know I talk a lot. Especially when—I just get—”

“Don’t apologize,” Happy cut him off. His voice was firm, but not mean the way that it sometimes could be. “I’m listening.”

Those last two words got the worry lines creasing Juice’s brow to disappear. He did ramble sometimes, especially when he was anxious—Happy knew that better than anyone. But he would rather sit there and listen to Juice go on and on about stars and comets and things that Happy had no real personal stake in, than make Juice suffer through more of the chaos of the party downstairs which was what made him anxious in the first place.

Happy had masked the direction to go up to the roof as wanting some alone time, but really it was because he could see Juice was about to start crawling out of his skin. In a little while, when their drinks were finished and Juice had unwound enough for his leg and fingers to still, he’d realize that.  For now, though, he continued to go on about all the differences between stars, planets, and comets. Happy listened, which he preferred to talking anyway.

With his hand that wasn’t holding onto his beer bottle, Happy reached over and rested his hand on Juice’s knee. Juice didn’t miss a beat in the sentence he was saying when Happy did that. He was still talking as he reached and threaded his fingers with Happy’s, the motion an instinctive one by that point. Happy stayed silent, but there was a flicker of a smile across his face as he brought his beer bottle back to his lips.

[marleyelona]

Made a couple edit for Juice Ortiz x Letty Morrow (my oc) — based on the song Too Sweet. Link to my Juice fanfiction: Ride or Die.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

Hi and for the love of God hello 👋🏼 after going back and forth i’ve decided to try my hand at writing for the mayans boys and the sons we all know and love! Please feel free to hit up my ask box <3

Requests: Open

who i write for:

- Mayans MC

• Angel Reyes

• Ez Reyes

• Coco Cruz

• Nestor Oceteva

• Neron “Creeper” Vargas

• Bishop Losa

• Hank Loza

• Gilly Lopez

• Michael “Riz” Ariza

- Sons Of Anarchy

• Jax Teller

• Juice Ortiz

• Opie Winston

• Happy Lowman

• Herman Kozik

• Filip “Chibs” Telford

• Alexander “Tig” Trager

What i take requests for:

• Headcanons

• Preferences

• Would includes

• Most likely to’s

What i don’t take requests for:

• Smut

• Self harm of any kind - talking about the reader having a mental illness is fine but i’m not comfortable writing about them harming themselves

• Reader being related to any of the characters

• Toxic relationships - We’re all about healthy, loving relationships in this house!

any gifs used are not mine!

[samcrosfaith]

SUMMER NIGHTS 𝟏𝟐| 𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

a/n; you can find all chapters to this story in my main masterlist {pinned post}, it'll lead you to the right masterlist. 🤎🩰

word count; 2551

tag list; @mamawiggers1980 @elmiramager

JUNE SIGHED AS SHE leaned into Happy's arms, her back pressed against his chest while one of his arms was draped around her protectively, even though there was no danger at the moment. She hated not knowing if he would change his mind and leave the kids and her again now that a threat had actually been made against her.

"Hey prospect, clean my wife's car", he barked at the young man, who immediately jumped to his feet and rushed towards the door. "Don't you need somethin' to clean?"

"Hap, be nice to him." June gently hit his chest with the back of her hand as she could almost hear the Prospect gulping even from a distance. The poor guy was still kind of new, so he had to go through this like every other Prospect before him, too. Nevertheless, June offered him a friendly smile. "There's everything you need in the bathroom under the sink."

"Oᅳ okay. Thank you", the dark-haired man, Seth, muttered before rushing into the bathroom, making the rest of the boys let out a laugh.

"You guys can be so mean!" June rolled her eyes, grinning as the laughter slowly died down and only an amused grin remained on their faces.

"Babe, he's the Prospect, you're not supposed to help him", Happy grumbled as he pulled her back into his arms, reaching for his cup of coffee, that stood on the kitchen counter next to him, with his free hand. "He's gotta go through this like everyone else."

"And I understand that and it's entirely up to you how much you want to test him, but", she took a long breath, a crooked smile forming on her lips as she looked up at Happy. "But he can't taste where our cleaning supplies are, huh?"

"Whatever", the SAA grunted, the slightest grin on his face before his features fell back into its familiar, stoic demeanour. "So what do we do about the threat? I'm not going to sit around and wait for something to happen."

"And you shouldn't", Jax answered first, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he slouched wearily in his chair, exhaustion written all over his tired face from the long day. "Nobody threatens my sister, my nieces or a family member in general and gets away with it. But we have to first make sure that the threat really comes from the Argent Devils. We can't just retaliate, man."

"Who else should be behind this?" Juice seethed, not much of his cheerful demeanor left as he waved the slightly crumpled piece of paper in his hand around. "This seems to be their new tactic, threatening our Old Ladies."

"Can I see the letter?" June asked cautiously, her hand already outstretched, clearly worried about her best friend. "And where is Amber now?"

"With her mom, she should be safe there", Juice sighed as he passed the letter to June before running a hand over his mohawk. "They know exactly what they're doing."

"Alright, tell her to stay there for now", June said firmly before her eyes darted over the neatly written lines, a scoff leaving her lips.

'Our bad you lost your precious baby because of us. Last time, there was no intention to hurt an Old Lady; but this time, maybe we want exactly that. Better be careful.'

"How did they get so much information anyway? Like, how do they know Amber had a miscarriage?", she asked angrily, horrified by the bold brutality in the words, which had probably opened up old wounds according to Juice' depressed expression. "Is she okay? Maybe I should go see her", June added firmly.

Her spirit was instantly killed by Happy, his eyes burning into her skull as he shook his head vigorously. "You're not going anywhere without me or a patch, woman, you hear me?"

Somehow, June could only smile at his words. That was all she had wanted; his protection instead of him pushing her away. So she listened without arguing, grateful to have him by her side.

"Okay, then I'll stay here and call her later", she said calmly before looking at the clock with a sigh. "I'll go and check on the kids, Alanna has probably asked Mom a million questions about why everyone is here."

"We'll talk later", Happy croaked against her lips before placing his on them, gently squeezing her hip before slightly pulling away. "You stay in the house, the kids too, understand?"

"Hap, I'm not stupid, I know what we have to do right now. I grew up around the club, forgot that?", she murmured against his lips with a smile, stole another kiss and then shoved the piece of paper back into Juice' hand before squeezing the man's shoulder. "We'll be fine, Amber will be fine", she said softly before leaving the kitchen to the men to check on Gemma and the kids.

ᅳ

THE HOUSE WAS quiet again, the guys were back with their own families or at the clubhouse and Gemma was with Nero for the time being, who now also knew about the threats and would keep his eyes and ears open.

Callie didn't notice the tense atmosphere, the seething anger that was slumbering inside her father and her mother's concern that someone might hurt her babies. Alanna on the other hand was now too old and attentive to hide something like that from her.

"Is somebody gonna hurt us?", the nine-year-old looked up between her parents, no longer able to stay quiet.

It was nice to be cuddled up on the couch with her parents, Callie right next to her, both girls resting in their parents' arms. Alanna's in Happy's as he sat right next to her and Callie snuggled up to June's, her stuffed turtle tucked tightly under her small arm.

"The hell, Lana?" Happy barked softly as the three-year-old also took her eyes off the TV and looked up in shock.

"Who wants to hurt us?", her small voice asked, the girl clearly more scared than her big sister. "I don't want anyone to hurt us."

"Oh baby, no one's going to hurt us", June cooed soothingly as Callie's lip began to quiver, her stuffed turtle pressed flush against her chest and holding on to it like her life depended on it. "Come here", June murmured as she pulled Callie onto her lap and flashed Alanna a stern look. "You could've waited until Callie was asleep, sweetie."

"Okay, maybe that wasn't the best idea, sorry", the nine-year-old murmured guiltily as she looked at her small sister's frightened face. Sighing, she reached out and ruffled Callie's hair. "Sorry Cal, I didn't mean to scare you."

The three-year-old sheepishly sought reassurance from her parents, her head moving frantically back and forth. "Nobody wants to hurt us?"

"No, bug, nobody will hurt you, your sister or your mother", Happy said firmly as he gently pushed Alanna forward a little so he could slide closer to Callie.  Lovingly, he ran his hand over her reddish curls. "I would never let that happen, okay?"

"Are you staying with us again? Forever?" Callie wanted to know, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Yeah, are we really staying this time?" Alanna also wanted to know, less expression on her face but more emotion in her soft tone. "I don't wanna have to leave again, Dad."

"Me neither, Daddy", Callie added so quickly that her words almost tumbled over each other. "I like my room here!"

"See, we've all missed you..and our rooms", June said with a small laugh, reaching for Happy's cheek. "We need youᅳ I hope you finally understand that now."

Happy's throat felt dry, a warm feeling in his chest as he heard how much his girls needed him, the guilt of making June leave still gnawing at him. He should've never left his family, never.

"Of course you'll stay with me, I'm not letting you guys leave again", he promised with a croak, his voice tinged with raw emotion.

He pressed a kiss against June's palm, his own resting on the back of her hand as he pulled Alanna into his arms and placed a kiss on top of her head. After changing his position to a more comfortable one, Callie climbed onto his lap and straight into her father's arms, making Happy's heart leap as he finally had both of his kids back with him, in his arms.

"We love you, dad", Alanna murmured against his shoulder after she had snuggled up properly. "Thanks for making up with Mom", the girl added quietly.

"I was an idiot, I had to come to my senses eventually", he murmured against her hair, a genuine smile forming on his lips. That was all he needed. "Let's keep watching the movie, okay?"

He just wanted to distract his kids, especially because he knew what was going on in Alanna's head, his older daughter had always been an overthinker just like him. Sometimes he wished she hadn't inherited that very trait from him. But he loved her just the way she was.

And Callie, Callie was a mix of June and him, at least until now.

"Yes please! Can we watch another movie then?", the three-year-old asked sheepishly, the innocent joy back in her brown eyes.

"Oh, another one, huh?" June snorted a laugh as she too snuggled up to her little family after reaching for the bowl of popcorn, her head resting on Happy's shoulder, still touched by the moment between a father and his daughters. "I think we can make an exception tonight."

"Really?" Alanna's eyes lit up, the lost family was definitely something she wanted to make up for. "Can we watch Halloween Town afterwards?"

"Uhm, of course! I wouldn't have accepted any other choice", June replied in a 'duh' tone as she popped a handful of popcorn in her mouth, making Happy and Alanna snort a laugh.

Callie just giggled as one popcorn landed on the warm, beige blanket that covered all their legs, which she immediately picked up to shove it in her own mouth, humming happily. "Yes, Halloween Town please!"

"God, she really is like you", Happy barked a laugh as he looked back and forth between June and Callie, no doubt that the two are mother and daughter.

"Hey, you say that like it's a bad thing", the former Teller pouted before a grin broke out on her face. "I mean, who doesn't love Halloween movies and popcorn?"

"As long as you're happy, I can live with Halloween movie nights and popcorn", the SAA rasped with a grin as he placed his arm around his wife and shifted into an even more comfortable position, making sure to keep his kids close.

"We'll watch a real horror movie later, I promise", she chirped promisingly, laughing softly as Happy hummed contentedly.

The kids' eyes were glued to the TV again as Hocus Pocus, their absolute favorite fall movie, continued to play. Despite the scary situation, June wanted to fully enjoy such moments without thinking too much about what could happen.

Maybe it was a little careless in others' eyes, but she trusted Happy that she and the children were safe with him.

ᅳ

HAPPY SEEMED ALMOST paranoid the next morning as he kept looking out the kitchen window, giving him the perfect view of the street, his eagle eyes sharper than ever.

"Babe, there's no one outside. They'd be stupid to just wait until one of us leaves the house", she said softly as she set a still steaming cup of coffee in front of him before she landed on the counter with a soft thud after she jumped up to sit on it, letting her legs dangle. "How did the war between you guys and the Argent Devils even start? You never told me."

"Long story", Happy sighed as he finally took his gaze away from the window, his eyes scanning his wife who was already dressed in her ballet outfit, ready for her first dance lesson of the day. "I thought I told you you weren't goin' to work today."

His brow was raised, his tone stern but tinged with concern as he pushed June's legs apart by placing himself between them, his calloused hands resting on her thighs. "Until the bastards are history, I want you to stay home, June."

"Hap, are you crazy?" June scoffed softly, not having any of that shit. "Look, I understand that your're worried, but we can't lock the kids up at home for weeks, Amber and I can't close the studio for that longᅳ do you know how much of a loss that would be for us? How many parents would cancel their contracts?"

"Fuck that, you're more important to me than money, woman", Happy shot back grimly, his fingers lightly digging in her flesh as he pulled her closer to him. "It won't take weeks, I won't let that happen. I want the fuckers dead soon, all of 'em."

And he would love to take his time with each one, especially the one who had the balls and made the threat to his Old Lady.

"Why don't you just come with me, huh? Amber's still with her mom anyway and I could use some entertainment during the breaks", she suggested, smoothing out some wrinkles on his white shirt with her palms. "Or do you have to be at the clubhouse later?"

"And you think a guy who looks like me should be in a ballet studio with a bunch of kids? I think the parents will cancel the contract faster than you can count to three once they spot me", he said with a gruff laugh that vibrated through his chest, causing June's heart to flutter. "If you really wanna work, I'll talk to Jax and come with you."

"Really? That would be great, for the kids especiallyᅳ they need the distraction right now", she sighed softly, chewing on her lower lip for a moment. "Especially Alanna. She can't see too much of all this, baby. She's suffered enough in the last year."

"I won't let anything get to our kids, little girl", he croaked, rubbing his hands against her thighs, his jaw almost permanently tense like every other muscle in his body since yesterday. "The bastards won't be a threat anymore soon, we'll make sure of that."

"I expected nothing less, baby", she whispered with a small smile, leaning her forehead against his. "And now tell me, we still have a few minutes before the kids get up. How did this stupid war start?"

Happy sighed, but he also knew that June wouldn't give up. They had decided, at the beginning of their relationship and again before they got married, that full disclosure is what they wantedᅳ which was an important point for June and for him too. Keeping secrets and keeping his old lady away from everything never really ended well.

So he finally gave in and told her how the Argent Devils just wanted to prove how big their balls were and that they could easily destroy the Sons and Mayans. A pure power struggle over Charming that would soon end, even with the help of the Mayans if necessary.

[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.

[proximaamidnightt]

𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

The Gentlemen

Raymond Smith

Forget me not

Bodyguard

David Budd

Miss you

Triple Frontier

Ben Miller

Unsainted

Sons Of Anarchy

Jax Teller

Run, Run, Run

Juice Ortiz

Mine

Baby

[ravennaortiz]

Fic Authors Self Rec!

When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written. Toot your horn! Tell us what YOU like about them, then pass this on to at least five other writers. (no pressure.) 😊

Oh gosh! I'm such a over thinker lol. Butttt I think 5 of my favorites in no particular order are!

Manny's Story in my Raising Girls Series- Its one of my favorite from the whole series to be honest. I love writing him with a family unit and I think he is def a girl dad. This story stresses this man out over his daughters first relationship. Its just domestic fluffiness and fun. It has also sprouted a whole new universe with several more stories, OC's and pulls in the love of my life Juice from SOA.

2. A Charming Wolf- This is feral AU Smut with Opie! I love writing smut but this....I had never written anything like this. I was soooo nervous to post it and truly almost put it in a folder of stories that I haven't posted. I am so glad I did! If you love werewolves, smut and Opie then this story is for you!

3. Naughty Boy- This is a subby Juice fic that came from a request I was sent. While I love all my Juice stories lol this one hits different because again it pushed me as a writer. My stories tend to err towards the guy being dominant so to switch that up took switching to a whole other mindset and I loved it!

4. Elf In Templo- This a Bishop story full of pranks played on him by the club with Elf on a Shelf figurines. Its just a fun, light story that always makes me laugh. Its also my first long fic for any of the Mayans so it sits close to my heart.

5. Happys Story from my Hate Me, Love Me series- This is a series based off the guys response to finding out they are in an arranged marriage. I chose Happy's because it showcases all sides of him really well in my opinion and lets you get into the head of this more often than not silent man. Its also another piece that allowed me to grow as a writer and try out a different technique by putting the story into a journal format that bounces back and forth between POV's.

Thank you for sending me this and letting chat about my stories!!!!!!

[etclouie-rambles]

i’m such a waffler when it comes to writing, trying to write kinktober day 12 and i’ve waffled too much.

cause why’s the prompt of giving head landed with a whole backstory

[sinofwriting]

The System Has It's Ways - Juice Ortiz

Words: 1,087 Summary: Juice left someone behind in Queens, his mom.

Get Added To My Taglist | Masterlist

Juice turned away from where the rest of his brothers were standing, voice lower as he tries not to be overheard. “No, momma, I’m doing okay. I’m getting my hours and three meals a day, promise.” “Juan Carlos,” she starts, seeing through him perfectly and he cuts her off. “Look, I’ll call you later, alright? I love you.” She sighs, “love you too.” The words are begrudging, but they make him smile. It was still surreal even after a decade to have someone who cared if he was sleeping and eating enough.

“Girlfriend we don’t know about Juicy?” Tig asks, when he turns back around, eyebrows wiggling and a twisted smile on his face. “Or some poor girl who has to answer when you call her mommy.” His grossed out face at his first sentence, changes to shock. “I don’t have a mommy kink.” For once he’s thankful that his words don’t come out in a splutter. “So you’re just calling some random girl mom?” It’s Jax that speaks, which makes him want to pout, because Tig he got. Tig loved to tease him and give him shit. He was pretty sure it got the guy going sometimes. “No.” The word is firm, probably the most firm he’s ever said anything.

He lets out a sigh, avoiding the eyes of Chibs, who seems to be laser focused on him. “After my mom died, I was in the system. I bounced around for a couple of years, before I got put in this weird home.” He smiles. “It was the home of this girl who was just a little over ten years older than me. She was the youngest foster parent I had ever seen and I pushed her to what would’ve been the breaking point for any other foster parent, but she kept me. I was fourteen. She even tried adopting me before I became legal, but the state refused. She’s the only mom I’ve ever really had.” “Shit.” Tig says, unsure of what exactly to say, and it’s clear that Jax doesn’t know either, but Chibs somehow does. “I’m glad you had her, Juice. You need someone in your corner.” Juice can’t help but look at the man that’s pretty much become a father to him, with wide eyes, the silent really clear in them and the older man nods.

In the days that follow he expects some teasing to ensue. He put himself pretty firmly in the momma’s boy camp, but nothing happens and it makes him worry. The last thing he wanted was pity from his brothers due to his rather rough upbringing. It’s Chibs that he brings it up too, stopping the man before he climbs onto his bike to go home for the day.

“No one’s given me shit about my mom.” He’s quiet, unsure how exactly to ask the older man if they were pitying him and he’s thankful that he doesn’t have to. Chib realizing what exactly this is about. His hands comes up and rests on the back of Juice’s neck, the weight reassuring. “No one’s pitying you, if that’s what you were thinking. We were worried about you before. So quiet about your past, we’re just glad you’ve got someone in your corner.” Tears are building, but he refuses to let them fall. “Thanks Chibs.”

A few months later, as his twenty-fifth birthday is only a few days away, his mom goes silent.At first he thinks nothing of it. Sometimes she gets so involved with her work that she doesn’t hear her phone, but then an hour passes. And then it’s lunch time in New York and she hasn’t sent her usual text saying good morning.

It has him on edge. Since leaving Queens and finally settling in Charming, his mom was constantly contacting him. Texts good morning and good night, little anecdotes, or things she thinks he might like. A phone call a day, which was probably excessive to some, he knew that a majority if not all the other guys in the club would think it was too much, but he needed those reminders that she was thinking of him and was still proud to be his mom.

When more hours pass and it’s lunch time for him, he forces the new prospect, Half-Sack, to call all the hospitals in Queens, having him ask if she had been admitted. Every single one turns up empty and he doesn’t know what to do. They didn’t have any charters in New York or near. He had no one he could call in New York to check on his mom, and going himself would be a death sentence.

It’s as he is trying to talk himself out of sending someone to New York, maybe Happy? He had enough money to supply the trip and he could think of a hit he could give the other man as a reason to go, when Chibs shows up.

“What’s going on with him?” The heavy accent brings Juice out of his head. “Hasn’t heard from his mom all day. He had Half-Sack call all the hospitals, no one with her name and matching her description.” Jax tells the older man. “Shite.” He curses. “What do you think?” “I don’t know. We got two different things to worry about, is this maybe because of the club or from what sent Juice running from Queens?” “You really think it could be club business?” Juice interrupts before Jax can’t reply. “It can’t be club business. Her name and mine aren’t attached in any way. Records for minors are sealed normally, but I got rid of mine shortly after I left. There’s no trail connecting us.” “And why you left?” “They’ve waited a long time then.”

Juice’s phone ringing distracts him from seeing the look that Chibs and Jax exchange.

“Hello.” “Juice,” A sigh of relief leaves him at the familiar voice. “Momma, I was worried sick. What number are you calling me from?” “I’m sorry, I lost my phone. I’m using a payphone.” “But you’re okay?” “I’m okay, just a little stuck.” “What happened?” “I didn’t realize that Charming didn’t have any places to stay. You still have a guest room, right?” “What?” She chuckles, “You didn’t think I was missing another one of your birthdays did you?” He ignores that, focusing on her previous words. “You here? In Charming?” He doesn’t even wait for her to answer. “Where exactly are you? I’ll come get you.” “I’m right behind you, baby. Right behind you.”

[ravennaortiz]

Ooooo!!! These look so fun! Send me some asks!

october-themed writeblr ask game

I fully admit it: I’m a sucker for fall. so, here you go- an october-themed ask game! This isn’t specific to world-building or drafting or a specific part of writing, so hopefully there’s something in it for everyone.

🎃 pumpkin: do you have any favorite brainstorming techniques? how do you like to gather ideas for your wip?

🍂 leaves: what does your editing process look like? how does your wip typically change as you work on it?

☕ coffee or tea: describe your OC’s favorite place to relax.

🧥 warm coat: share a happy or fuzzy scene from your wip!

🍎 apple: let’s talk about friendship in your wip. do you have any favorite friend/platonic dynamics? any friendships gone sour?

👻 ghost: can you tease some wip ideas that have been haunting you/something you want to write in the future?

🌧️ rain: share a sad or emotional scene from your wip!

🥧 pie: let’s talk about food in your wip. are there any special recipes or traditional meals? do any of your OCs cook or bake?

🍬 candy: share a sweet or fluffy scene from your wip!

🌙 moon: do any of your OCs have dark backstories or secrets they’re trying to keep?

[garbinge]

JUICE + SHY GN!READER HEADCANON

First ever headcanon, and this really pushed me out of my comfort zone! Juice is a character that I'm still learning and shy characters are always a little tough for me in these universes. Honestly would love anyone else to drop in any additional thoughts because this one really got me thinking through so many scenarios on how things would play out with these two :) Headcanon is under the cut!

FIRST MEETING: 

Juice isn’t exactly the most outspoken or outgoing either, so the process from meeting you to dating you takes time. Slow burn for suuuuuure. 

I think it’d start out with Juice being more shy than the reader for sure but your shyness is what draws him to you. You’re also not exactly jumping out of your seat to talk to him either, but to you, you’re just ignoring him while Juice is being shy to you. 

You’re the opposite of his life right now. The club is rowdy and chaotic and you were calm and observant. 

There’s tons of stolen glances whenever he gets the chance when you’re around. His eyes jump away in seconds the minute you catch him looking at you. Whether it’s peeking over his laptop, or fully staring at you when he catches you downtown. 

Those glances would eventually turn to awkward smiles, the occasional wave or head nod.

When he gets the nerve to actually come and talk to you, there’s a lot of fumbling on his words until he realizes you’re just as nervous as him and it somehow makes him feel a little less nervous.

Just enough that in some fiddly way he manages to ask you out and you agree. 

The first date is a lot of him asking you questions because you’re still very reserved. A lot of what are your favorite things; food, movies, places to go, where  do you work, do you like it. Just trying to learn more about you.

He goes off on a lot of tangents about tech, it’s what he knows and loves so it just comes easy to him. You take it all in, every word, picking up on the details in what he’s saying and what he’s not. 

You definitely bring things up that he’s said earlier and it drives him mad. Someone who pays attention to the things he’s saying? That’s new. 

Somewhere along the conversation you mentioned something about your car and he eagerly offered to fix it for you at TM which ultimately solidified your second date. 

It’s obvious you’re a fish out of water at Teller-Morrow. Your voice is comparable to a mouse in comparison to all the guys, club and mechanics combined. 

While trying to explain to Chucky and then Piney that one of the guys said they could help you out, Juice appears with the biggest grin on his face when he sees you and offers you an energetic “hey” and it completely melts you. 

You sit next to him while he tinkers with your car, him mostly taking up a lot of the conversation but you’re chiming in here or there a little bit more than on the first date. Everything around you kind of fades away in those moments, you’re just enjoying the time passing with Juice. 

When you get home that night, you break something else on your car, purposely, so you can bring it back the next day. Too nervous to just ask him to hang out on your own. 

After he catches on, you’ve brought your car in 3 times in one week,  he decides to blurt it out. Do you wanna be my girlfriend? And he’s immediately mortified by the prepubescent way of asking you to be his but in your eyes it's perfect. It’s direct and leaves no room for misinterpretation. BEGINNING OF YOUR RELATIONSHIP: 

Then, things are a bit different once your relationship is a bit more established. You both geek out together, and you feel a bit more comfortable coming out of your shell around him. 

He definitely becomes protective over you, knowing how fragile he can be because of his sensitive side and how people are eager to take advantage of that, the thought that someone could be like that with you makes him want to follow you around like a guard dog. 

He's constantly stare at you, lovingly + adoring but also curiously, just picking up on the things you do and why. But now, instead of looking away when you catch his eyes, he just smiles, maybe lightly touches your face, places a soft kiss on your lips, still smiling through each interaction.

But the real kicker is when he tells you he wants you to come hang out at the clubhouse and meet the guys. 

Now, he’s not an idiot, he knows that they can be a lot and you aren’t a very extroverted person, but he reassures you a lot that they’ll love you and you’ll have a good time. He also lets you know he’d never let anything happen to you. And once the guys meet you, neither will they.

When you show up, you’re feeling exactly how you felt when you first met Juice. Flighty eyes, absorbing the environment, taking in everything. 

The commotion of the group by the pool table and then the group by the bar was starting to make your stomach turn. 

Juice spots you immediately and is by your side within seconds and never leaves it. One, because he wants to keep his word of being there and two, he feels so happy just to have you here with his family. 

The guys tease Juice more than they tease you, and when anyone gets a little too pushy before you’re able to even feel uncomfortable Juice is handling it. 

OVER TIME: 

I think he’d be able to anticipate your needs and vice versa. 

When he comes home from a rough day, you’re there to pick up the pieces and he lets you. 

There’s toons of physical affection behind closed doors. Cuddling, all types of kisses, very sweet and passionate love. 

In public and in front of the club, it’s not as prominent but there’s definitely arms wrapped around you, sitting in between his legs, casual pecks on the cheek and fingers intertwined. 

He’d also trust your opinion on things because when you are at the clubhouse you’re not looking to fuck-around. You’re taking in everything and it gives you a really unique perspective on situations. 

He’d take you on so many long rides and road trips because he knows the quiet of the rides are your favorite.

He’d leave breakfast for you when he had early mornings and you’d leave dinner for him on those late night runs. 

Juice would use his skills to make your life easier, just like when you first met. Fixing your car, your computer, making sure you were upgrading all your software, getting you things that you didn’t even realized existed that just made every aspect of your life easier. 

Ultimately, I think a shy partner is exactly what Juice needs, someone who understands him, and is patient with him. They both would be able to respect and love each other because they see each other. There's so much understanding because they get one another, their quirks, their preferences, their mannerisms.

Dividers by @cafekitsune ❤ // Requested by anon ❤ 💀SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989  (Let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[drabbles-mc]

Again and Again (Part 3)

Mayans!Juice AU

Day 15 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: isolation / flinching / "Do you trust me?"

Part 1 / Part 2

Warnings: 18+, angst

Word Count: 3k

A/N: I started this series back during Whumptober, so it felt fitting to post another installment of it for Whumpril! Hope you enjoy!

SOA Taglist: @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @chibsytelford @juicyortiz @i-just-read-stuff @justreblogginfics @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @nessamc @garbinge @narcolini @cositapreciosa @darqchilddaydreamz @withmyteeth @camelia35 @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Despite the days that had gone by, and the fact that the worst of the physical pain was over, Juice had barely set foot outside his house. The few times he had, it was to go and get things that he needed—groceries, alcohol, cigarettes, weed. He had yet to set foot back at the clubhouse again. The mere thought of it made him shake, so he couldn’t imagine what his brain and body would put him through if he actually went and showed up.

He was lying on his back on his couch in the living room, staring up at the ceiling. His mind was wandering and taking him nowhere good as it went. The lights were off, but there was enough sunlight coming through the windows to keep the room from being too dark. This was where he had spent most of the last couple of weeks. Even when it was time for him to try and sleep, he hardly ever went and laid in his bed. That was one thing he wouldn’t have been able to explain even if he tried.

The sound of someone knocking at his front door caused him to snap his head immediately in that direction. His heart began thudding quickly in his chest as he stared at the door, with all of its locks firmly secure because he’d checked them each three times. He laid still, partially waiting but also partially unable to try and make himself move. Logically he knew it was most likely someone from the club, or maybe even the nurse that they’d sent over to check on him.

After the first couple of days, when they were all reassured enough that he wasn’t going to eat his gun, they didn’t have club members camped out at his place around the clock anymore. Someone always checked in once a day, usually Marcus, either with a phone call or an in-person visit. Juice still hadn’t figured out if the club had been asking Daniela to keep coming and checking on his injuries and his overall state, or if she was just the type of person who cared that much. She had brothers in the club, after all, so maybe it was just a sense of duty.

He must’ve been replaying the days in his head for longer than he thought, because there was another set of knocks. Juice was trying to will his body to move, but it was slow-going. His feet had hardly hit the floor when he heard Marcus’s voice from the other side of the door.

“It’s me.”

Juice forced himself to pry the words from the back of his throat, a herculean effort when it shouldn’t have been one. “Coming.”

One slow step in front of the other, he made his way over to the door. Even though he knew it was Marcus, and even though he knew that if something was wrong Marcus would’ve warned him somehow, Juice still had his gun clutched tightly in one hand as he reached to start undoing the locks with the other.

When he finally pulled the door open, Marcus was standing patiently on the other side, his facial expression not giving away any particular emotion. That was something Juice had noticed he was good at—keeping things close to the vest. Marcus, to the extent of Juice’s knowledge at least, had never lied to him. He was always honest. But when it came to what he was feeling about something at any given moment, it was rare that Marcus wore his opinion on his face. Juice was trying to figure out if he found that to be a comforting thing or not.

Stepping to the side so that Marcus could walk through, Juice nervously drummed his fingers on his side of the door. Pushing it shut, he immediately set about redoing all of his locks. He tried to make his voice sound as normal as possible as he spoke to Marcus, even though the frantic movements of his fingers instantly negated his efforts. “All good?”

Marcus watched him, his expression still not giving anything away. He waited for Juice to turn and look at him before he finally nodded. “All good.”

“What’s, uh,” he tucked his gun into the back of his waistband, like that would somehow make it seem more casual, “what’s going on?”

“Just came to update you.”

Juice’s eyes widened. “Update me? About…about what?”

Marcus could hear the panic edging its way into Juice’s voice, and he kept his as steady and as neutral as possible. “Templo tomorrow.” He paused, seeing how Juice’s expression didn’t relax any. “We need you there.”

That wasn’t the answer Juice had been expecting. He’d spent day after day pacing around his house waiting for the worst. Truth be told, he was half expecting one of the guys, or Marcus, to stop by and ask for his kutte. It felt like all the trouble Juice had been drowning in when he was in Charming, just took on a new form and followed him right to Santo Padre. He was wondering when the Mayans would get sick of the constant clean-up like the Sons did.

“Why,” he sniffled and shrugged as he crossed his arms over his chest, “why do you need me there?”

Marcus’s brows came together for a brief moment before he recovered and answered, “Because you’re part of the fuckin’ club.”

From almost anyone else, that response would’ve sounded annoyed, or even angry. But not from Marcus. The way he said it was so matter-of-fact. A large part of that was because he wasn’t annoyed or angry with Juice. He wondered when that fact was finally going to sink in with the young man that was standing in front of him.

It wasn’t that Juice didn’t want to be at Templo, or that he didn’t want to be part of the club. He did. He wanted all of that more than almost anything. But after all that had happened, the thought of just going about his life like it was business as usual was impossible to wrap his head around. For years he had just gone from one mishap to the next, and they seemed to keep getting worse as the years went along. He’d always been able to rally, though, always been able to move onto the next thing.

Now, standing in front of Marcus with trembling hands and flashbacks that made beads of sweat gather along the edge of his forehead, it was all finally starting to catch up to him at once.

Taking a breath, Marcus asked, “What is it?”

Juice’s eyes that had previously been glued to the floor snapped up so that he was looking at Marcus. “What is what?”

“What’s keeping you in here?” He made a small gesture to the house.

Juice shook his head, eyes dropping back to the floorboards beneath his feet as he tried to string together an answer. He didn’t even know where to begin. It felt so obvious and yet so complicated all at once. Because, yes, danger was a part of what they did. There was no way to be an outlaw and do it safely. However, it wasn’t just the feeling of danger. It was something deeper than that, something internal and far less tangible than the threats lurking outside his door.

He still didn’t look up as he started to speak. “Everywhere I go…bad things happen. To, to me. To the people around me. No matter what. Queens…Charming…” he hesitated like he didn’t want to spit the words out, “Santo Padre. Bad shit. Every, every fucking time.”

“And it was all on you, huh? Every time?”

Juice knew what Marcus was doing. It wasn’t the first time that he’d had a conversation like this. And he knew that in a way, Marcus was right. It wasn’t very often that the man was wrong about much anyway. This, however, this Juice knew that if one of them was approaching the situation rationally, it was Marcus. All of that and he still found it so hard to believe him.

“I know,” Juice finally said. “I know there’s more to it but I just,” he ran his hands back over his head, hating that he could feel tears stinging at the edges of his eyes, “I can’t shake the feeling. Bad luck has followed me across the country and down the border. How long was I here before…?” his voice trailed off.

“I told you,” Marcus said firmly, “what they did was about the club—it wasn’t about you.”

“But it happened to me!” Juice finally broke, emotion cracking his voice. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes for a moment as he tried to get the shake in his voice under control and failed. “Because it always happens to me.”

Marcus didn’t say anything for a moment. Side-stepping Juice, he made his way deeper into the living room and took a seat on the couch that Juice had been all but glued to for the last few weeks. Leaning forward, Marcus braced his forearms against the tops of his thighs. He finally looked over at Juice and waited for him to come and sit.

It took a few moments, but Juice finally picked up on the cue. Walking over, he put his gun back on the table before sitting down next to Marcus. He could feel Marcus staring at him but he didn’t look over at him. He knew that wherever this conversation was going, he wasn’t going to be able to hide from it. He’d hidden from a lot, locked up in his house the way he had been, but now Marcus was here and it didn’t seem like he was going to leave until he got whatever answers he was looking for.

Juice gnawed at the inside of his bottom lip before saying, “I don’t know if I’m worth the trouble that follows me.”

Marcus nodded, not in agreement, but in thought. He looked down at his interlocked hands for a moment, at the Mayan ring that rested on his finger. He felt the weight of the kutte that hung on his shoulders.

“Are you going to turn in your kutte, then?” Marcus finally asked after a bout of silence.

The knot in Juice’s stomach tightened, his eyes widening as he looked over at Marcus. The lack of emotion on the man’s face left Juice wondering if it was a question or a request. “N—I…I don’t…do you…do you want me to?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Yea, but—”

“If I didn’t want you in my club, you wouldn’t be.” He paused, twisting the ring on his finger. “This isn’t about that. This is about whether or not you still want this. If you can still do this.”

It had been a long time since decisions with this much gravity really felt like they were Juice’s to make. He’s been a “Yes Man” for a long time, and he was pretty good at that. For years he’d listened to the decisions being made and contented himself just following the directions that he’d been given. But now he was the one who had to make the choice, and it was one that was going to decide whether taking off to Santo Padre was worth any of the stress it had caused.

Juice knew that he still wanted this. For all of the pain and the mess that it had caused, he still wanted it. For years now it had been all he ever wanted. Belonging somewhere had been the only thing he wanted for as long as he could remember. For the first time in a long time it felt like an attainable goal—he just had to get out of his own fucking way.

“I, uh,” he sniffled, trying to force his bubbling emotions down, “I don’t know if I can, Marcus.” The pause that ensued felt a few seconds too long. “I want to, but I don’t know…”

“If you want to do this, you gotta show up.” His tone wasn’t harsh, but it didn’t leave much room for argument either. It was the plain reality of it all.

And Juice knew that he was right. Marcus was understanding, he was fair in a way the men he’d worked with in the past never had the capacity to be. But he still had a club to run. He still had messes to clean up. The question now was whether or not Juice was going to be one of those.

Juice shook his head slightly, fear once again rearing its ugly head as he thought about all of the worst-case scenarios. “Why…why do you even care so much? Why are you doing all of this? It’s not,” he shook his head, “it’s not like you owe me anything. All I’ve fucking done is—”

He was cut off by the feeling of Marcus’s hand landing on his shoulder. Juice flinched at the contact, instinctively going to pull away before he realized what was happening, that he was safe, that the gesture was one of comfort and not aggression.

Juice got his tone back under control taking a staggered breath as he repeated his question, “Why are you doing this?” The familiar sting of tears in his eyes came back as he asked, “Do you even trust me? Can…can you even trust me?”

There was a pause, but it wasn’t hesitation. There was no trace of guesswork on Marcus’s face as he sat there looking at Juice. The silence was more to make Juice sit with his own line of questioning than anything else.

Marcus took a deep breath. “Trust is all we’ve got.”

The statement hung alone in the air. After a few seconds, Marcus removed his hand from Juice’s shoulder.  Juice thought that his body would relax at that, but none of the tension dissolved out of him. His leg began to bounce as the two of them sat there. He knew that it was his turn to say something, that Marcus would be more than content to sit there and wait until Juice finally forced himself to give some kind of answer to the original question that spurred this conversation in the first place.

Even though Juice cleared his throat, his voice still came out as a whisper, like he was on the brink of losing his voice. “I’ll be there.”

Marcus’s expression didn’t shift at all as he nodded. “Good.” He paused, giving Juice the opportunity to say anything else that he needed to get off his chest. When silence ensued, he asked, “Nothing else?”

Juice gave a small shake of his head, still not looking directly at Marcus. “No.”

Standing up, Marcus brushed his hands on his jeans before starting to head back towards the door again. “Tomorrow, then.”

Juice nodded, forcing himself up off the couch so that he could follow Marcus and lock the door behind him once he’d left. “Tomorrow.”

When Marcus pulled the front door open, he immediately came face-to-face with Daniela, who was still in her scrubs from work. She took a small step back, a surprised laugh slipping out of her as she looked back and forth between Marcus and Juice.

“Hi, sorry.” She adjusted the small medical bag that was slung over her shoulder. “I was just, you know, um,” she patted her bag, “checking in.”

Marcus nodded in approval. “Thank you.”

She gave a warm smile. “It’s not a problem,” her eyes drifted over to Juice, her expression softening a little, “really.”

Marcus gently rested his hand on the outside of her arm as she slipped past him, allowing them to swap places so she was inside the house and he was out on the front step. He and Juice exchanged one more brief look, each trying to figure each other out just a little bit more, before saying one more quick goodbye.

Daniela waited and watched as Juice shut the door behind Marcus and did all the locks. Her sympathetic smile lost a little bit of its curve as she watched him go back and check the locks, and recheck them again.

“If it’s not a good time,” she offered, “I can always come back later.”

Turning around and facing her, Juice shook his head. He was trying to look less rattled than he really was, which was difficult with everything that had happened within the span of the last half hour. Still, she already showed up, so he wasn’t going to turn her away.

“It’s fine,” he forced out.

She didn’t want to turn it into a debate, so she just nodded. “Okay.” She gestured to the couch, and as they both stepped towards it, she asked, “You wanna talk about it?”

He shook his head as he sat down. “I’m good.”

She nodded again. Some days he talked a little bit, other days the two of them sat there in near-silence as she checked him over. It looked like it was going to be the latter. “Okay.”

Juice watched her as she pulled her medical bag onto her lap and opened it to look inside. He wished he had better things to say to her, anything, really, but he was coming up empty. She never seemed fazed by it.

“Thanks,” he said softly as she pulled her stethoscope out.

She gave him a tiny smile. “Of course.”

That was all that was said between him as she got wrapped up in making sure that he was at least physically alright if nothing else. Meanwhile, Juice’s mind was miles away trying to wrap his head around how he was going to pull himself together enough to do what needed to be done. This was just one day, one meeting, and it was taking this much out of him. As he flinched slightly from the cold metal of the stethoscope, he briefly wondered how he was supposed to handle all the days afterward, too.

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

Juice getting suckered into babysitting would include!

Request from: @darqchilddaydreamz

A/n: Hi!! Thank so much for this request, I’m so sorry it took long for me to get to it! I hope you enjoy 🥰

Warnings: None, just fluff!

He was reluctant in the beginning to babysit your one year old niece but because you couldn’t take her with you to where you were going, he didn’t really have a choice. At first, he was nervous because it was the first time he was watching her alone but the second she put her little hand on his head tattoo and let out a giggle, he was a goner 🥹 He definitely calls you in a panic when she starts to cry because he doesn’t know how to make it stop but thankfully, you manage to calm him down and tell him what he needs to do. Lunch time ends with the both of them wearing most of her food because it was more fun for her to play with it lmao. He takes her to the park and you better believe he’s going down the slide with her and gets stuck pushes her on the swings, chases her around the playground 🥹 All the moms are definitely thirsting after him, who wouldn’t? a fine ass man like him who’s good with kids? *swoon* When you get home, you walk into them both napping on the couch with her asleep on his chest and you swear your heart grows two sizes!! He’s a little sad when her parents pick her up to go home and let’s your sibling know that he’s available to babysit whenever they need him to, which is an offer they’re definitely going to take advantage of lmao. All in all, i think he’d be an excellent babysitter!! (Someone give this man a baby)

[mysticalmallard]

♥︎ Spending the night for the first time ♥︎

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog

♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this taglist comment or message me ♥︎

🦆: This is a new thing I'm trying, group drabbles, so I can write for more characters at once with the same scenario to challenge myself to make each drabble unique from the others....let me know if you want more like this and what scenario you want next ♥︎

♡ This one includes: Tig Trager, Herman Kozik, Jax Teller, Opie Winston, Chibs Telford, Juice Ortiz, Happy Lowman ♡

-> MainMasterlist <- ♡ -> SoA Masterlist <-

Tig Trager

He yawns as he looks at the clock on the wall, noticing the time.

"Damn, it's late. You can take the bed, darlin'. I'll just crash on the couch."

He heads over to the couch and falls, landing on his back. He kicks his legs back and forth dramatically, getting comfortable.

"You don't have to do that Tiggy, is your bed not big enough for two?" She giggles

He smiles and sighs.

"Oh no, it is. I just didn't want you to feel awkward or nothin'. But if you don't mind sharing the bed, I don't mind at all."

He stands and walks into the bedroom, flopping down on the bed.

"But I do wanna warn you. Snorings a huge problem of mine."

He grins, looking up at her.

"And I'm a bit of a cuddler, too."

she laughs, joining him in bed

Tig lays down, pulling her to him. He sighs, resting his chin on top of her head.

Herman Kozik

Koziks girlfriend was spending the night at his place for the first time, and she was both excited and nervous. As she got ready for bed, she couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious in just a oversized T-shirt and panties. "Do I look okay like this?" she asked Kozi, who was already in bed.

Kozi looked up from his phone and smiled warmly. "You look perfect," he reassured her. "I like seeing you in my clothes." He patted the bed next to him. "C'mere."

She smiled back and climbed into bed next to him, snuggling up against his side. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"Relax," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You being here is all I care about."

Kozik chuckled and gave her a playful nudge. "You're so tense. What are you worried about? we've shared a bed before and you know i don't bite... unless you ask me to." His eyes glinted with mischief as he gave her a wink.

She laughed, some of the tension in her body easing at his joke. "I don't know," she admitted, pressing her face into his shoulder. "I guess I just want everything to be perfect. I don't want to mess this up."

Kozi's expression softened. He stroked her hair gently and said, "Hey, there's no such thing as perfect. And you're not gonna mess anything up. I want you here with me, that's all. Just be yourself, and we'll figure it out together, okay?"

Jax Teller

Jax had been seeing his new girlfriend for a few weeks now, and he was falling for her hard. But he was a man who was used to living a certain way, and he knew that spending the night together would change things.

He had a rule - he never let women stay over. But he wanted her to, this time.

He watched her as she got ready to leave, his eyes roaming appreciatively over her body. She looked so beautiful, her hair down and cascading down her back, but there was something deeper than just physical desire.

As she looked up at him, he saw a vulnerability in her expression that tugged at his heartstrings. He wanted to have her close, to protect her, to wake up with her in his arms.

"Stay tonight. Stay with me." His voice was soft and low, the words coming out more like a plea than a demand. Jax knew he was taking a chance by breaking his own rule, but it felt right. The connection he had with her was different from anything he'd ever experienced before.

She looked slightly taken aback by his suggestion. She hadn't expected him to ask her to stay, but now that he had, she found herself contemplating the idea. Staying the night seemed like a big step, a move that would bring them closer together. She knew that if she agreed, things would never be the same between them.

She looked back and forth between his eyes, her expression a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. She had never seen this more vulnerable side of Jax before. For a long moment, it seemed like she was contemplating what to do.

Then, slowly, she nodded her head, her mouth curving up into a small smile. "Okay. I'll stay."

Opie Winston

Opie had never been one for emotional attachments they just didn't seem like a good investment anymore. But then she walked into his life. He hadn't been expecting it, but he found himself drawn to her, the way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she carried herself.

And now, after weeks of dating, he felt something shift. He found himself wanting her to stay the night. It was a big step for him. It would be the first time sleeping next to someone since Donna.

He nervously cleared his throat, looking down at his hands as he spoke. "So, I know we've been dating for a while now, and things are going pretty well, right? And I was thinking... well, I don't know, maybe you could stay the night? Tonight?"

The words came out more like a question than a statement, and he didn't look up to meet her eye. He was feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, and he didn't know how she would react.

The silence that hung in the air between them felt like an eternity, and Opie couldn't bear to look up. He braced himself for rejection, ready to laugh it off and brush it off as a joke. But just as he was about to speak, he heard her voice.

"I'd like that."

The words were simple, but they were like a breath of fresh air to him. He looked up, surprise written on his face, as if he hadn't really expected her to say yes. But there she was, smiling at him, her eyes warm and gentle.

"Really?" he asked, still a hint of disbelief in his tone. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling a mix of relief and excitement wash over him.

"Yeah." She confirmed with a laugh. "I'd love to spend the night here with you. I just wasn't sure if you were ready for something like that."

Opie exhaled a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "To be honest, I wasn't sure either," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

He reached out and took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. "But i'm ready now. I want you to stay. I want to wake up next to you."

Chibs Telford

The evening had drawn to a close and it was well after midnight. Chibs was sat on his couch with his lass, wrapped in his arms and cuddled under a blanket, the two of them watching a random movie on TV. Chibs was slowly tracing patterns on her hip with his thumb as they both stared at the screen in front of them.

“Ye staying over tonight?” He asks in a low voice, glancing down at her.

“Yeah, if that’s alright with you.” She responds, tilting her head up to look into his eyes.

Chibs smiles and nods, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Absolutely.” He says, shifting to pull her tighter against his chest. “That’s fine with me.”

The movie continued on, though Chibs was more focused on his girlfriend than the plot unfolding in front of them. Every now and then, he’d place a soft kiss on her forehead or the top of her head and rub small circles on her hip.

Once the movie finally came to an end, he grabbed for the remote and shut off the TV before shifting to look down at her again. “Ready for bed, darlin’?” He asks in a low voice.

Chibs chuckles softly under his breath as he looks down at her already fast asleep, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He reaches out to brush a few strands of hair out of her face before carefully maneuvering around her to pick her up in his arms bridal style.

She stirs slightly, burying her face into his chest and wrapping her arm around his neck. He carries her towards his bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot and entering the room. He sets her down on the bed carefully before going around to the other side to lay down next to her.

Chibs wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her closer towards him, her back pressing against his chest. He nuzzles his face into her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

As he pulls the covers up over them, he can’t help but think about how nice it was to have her there with him. It had been a while since he’d had a woman spend the night with him and he found himself getting comfortable with the idea. He places a soft kiss on the top of her head before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep with her in his arms.

Juice Ortiz

Juice laid in bed, shirtless with his boxers on. Rubbing his eyes he looked over at his phone and read the time, 10:46pm. He heard the water running in bathroom, he knew his girlfriend was taking a shower.

He groaned and tossed his phone down on the bed, he laid there staring at the ceiling patiently waiting for her to come out the bathroom.

The water finally turned off, he turned to glance at the bathroom door. He heard her humming. He rolled on his back and groaned impatiently. After 10 more minutes of waiting she came out the bathroom, with her hair in a towel already dressed Juice frowned realising he wanted her to stay.

"What are you doing?" Juice mumbled, she glanced over at him smiling. "Getting ready to go home." She stated.

Juice grabbed her wrist and tugged her back down towards him. "Stay." He mumbled with a pout.

"I can't, i have work in the morning" she pouted back, but Juice tugged her until her back was against his chest and his arm was wrapped around her waist.

"Stay the night." He mumbled into her ear.

"Juice" she whined.

"Just this once?" Juice pleaded.

She was about to protest again but his pout and puppy dog eyes made her melt. "Fine" she mumbled, rolling her eyes and juice smirked.

He kissed her shoulder and tightened his grip on her waist. "Good." He mumbled into her skin. He shifted them so they were both laying down and he was spooning her.

"Juice, you got to let me up so I can change again. I'm not sleeping in jeans," she laughs.

Juice groaned and tightened his grip. "No, stay like this." He mumbled, and she laughed some more.

"Come on, I'll be quick." She said while trying to move. Juice gripped her hips and pulled her back to his chest, wrapping his arms around her torso.

Juice buried his face in the back of her neck, inhaling her scent. He kissed a few spots and then planted one final kiss on her shoulder before mumbling against her skin. "You're not going anywhere."

Happy Lowman

Happy was in his apartment on the couch waiting for his girlfriend to arrive. It was the first time she was staying overnight, and he had spent the evening tidying the place up and making sure everything was perfect.

As the clock ticked on as he sat in silence watching it, there was a knock on the door. Happy jumped up from the couch and went to answer it. Standing on the porch was his girlfriend, drenched from the rain.

"Hey Hap, thanks again for letting me crash here I didn't wanna deal with my roommates drama tonight" she says backpack on her damp sholder.

Happy grins, admiring her wet appearance before pulling her inside and closing the door behind her. "It's no problem. I'm glad you're here."

She shivers, and he wraps his arms around her, drawing her close to him."Cold?" he asks, rubbing his hands up and down her back.

She nods, leaning into him, her body still shivering. "Freezing."

Happy smirks and leads her further into the apartment, towards the bedroom. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes then."

They enter his bedroom and he reaches out to unzip her jacket, his hands skimming over her curves as he helps her out of it. Her shirt is next, and he pulls it off over her head, exposing her bare skin to his gaze.

He tosses her one of his shirts from his draws as she pulls her jeans off. She slips the large shirt over her head and onto her body, the soft material falling down to cover her thighs.

He watches her admiringly, his eyes tracing over her figure. "You look better in my shirt than I do," he says with a smirk.

She smiles and rolls her eyes as she playfully swats at him. "Shut up."

He chuckles and pulls her closer, his arms wrapping around her waist. "I mean it, you look good in anything - or nothing."

"Come on we agreed, no more fun stuff until we figure us out" she pouts looking up at him.

Happy sighs and rests his forehead against hers, knowing she's right. "Fine, no fun stuff. But that rule doesn't stop me from being able to admire you." He runs his fingers through her damp hair, his touch gentle as his hands trail down her neck and settle at her hips. He pulls her closer against him, their bodies pressing together.

"I'm still gonna enjoy having you here though," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly as he pulls her towards the bed.

They crawl into bed together, under the covers. He wraps himself around her, his strong arms enclosing her in a protective embrace. She snuggles into his chest, feeling warm and safe in his arms.

"Mmm, this is nice," she sighs, her breath fanning across his skin.