#Juan Carlos Ortiz

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Denial - Juice Ortiz x Reader One Shot

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

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

Word Count: 1466 words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cloveroctobers]

FEBRUARY FLUFF — JUAN “JUICE” ORTIZ.

A/N: Juice was always my man when it came to SOA and I’ll forever be traumatized and bitter over his storyline + how he was treated. That’s probably one of the reasons why I’ll never do a rewatch tbfh. In my mind he’s thriving and I’ve always wanted happiness for him and that’s what he’s gonna get here! Also my first time ever writing for this man so go easy on me although this is more HC (my version) form. Have a happy love day whether it’s with a significant other, family, friends, or just yourself! know that you’re always worthy and capable of receiving and giving love and not just on this one day of the year 🩷🫡

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + I’m using: 19. "can i see your hand?" / "sure, why?" / "so i can see how well it fits with mine." + 35. "let's take a stupid walk for our stupid mental health!"

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩

When you got word from your mother that Juan was back in town for good, you had to see so for yourself.

January’s always been gloomy but when you came face to face with the man you haven’t seen in years at the front door of his mother’s, you wanted to collapse but managed to keep your composure.

Juan’s sad but somewhat still warm eyes are unsure at first, taking in your facial expression but you clear his concerns as you’re yanking him tightly to your body in a tender embrace.

And he feels like he might just break down himself in your arms.

You were just what he needed.

The both of you had to make up for lost time and Juan had to keep convincing you that he wasn’t going anywhere.

Things didn’t work out in his favor in California (little did you know, he barely made it out alive) and Juan never wanted you to visit, although your older brother and his girlfriend, Saskia lived out there—which means you took trips but in a sense you learned to accept that was Juan’s way of protecting you from the demons that latched onto his soul.

You couldn’t take it personally since Ms. Hilda, his mother never visited either but spoke to him every couple of months—which may have been hard or if not harder for her.

Although the both of your mother’s were good friends that didn’t mean the both of you didn’t have your share of childhood trauma’s (because of them) that bled into your adulthood.

Nonetheless the both of you spent a month reconnecting, taking each day by day as it took to rebuild a friendship.

It felt right having Juan back in your life and he can honestly say the same.

“I never knew how much I missed you until I saw your face again,” he said to you over the phone one night.

Juan’s always been a sweetheart and never had an issue expressing his love for you to the point many kids back in school questioned if you were dating.

It never happened but that didn’t mean Juan didn’t want it to yet you found yourself in a few relationships here and there. Which was brought up by your mother during a birthday dinner for your brother (who was visiting) that February.

“I find it hard to believe that you’re still single. I mean hell, when is anybody going to give me a grandchild?” Your mother chatted over a glass of Cabernet playfully glaring at your brother who cleared his throat before setting her eyes back on you, “You know I saw Marlon just the other day?”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at this. You’ve only been at the table for ten minutes, supposedly going over the menu and yet here your mother was worrying about children and your love life.

And she just had to bring your college ex into it.

“Really,” you gave faux interest as you viewed the entrees.

“Mhm. He’s been divorced for a few years now and he’s single. I even showed him a picture of you to see if he remembered you. He laughed about it and said he thought you were with Juan now.”

Your brother is coughing now on his own drink and his girlfriend of four years is patting him on the back.

Glancing to your right you stare at Juan rubbing at his face in thought, who mentally seemed to be having a tough day today. He stayed at your house last night and apologized over breakfast about how he got into these dark moods.

You assured him that he didn’t have to apologize for his feelings. Asking if he wanted to be your plus one tonight, only if it was up for it.

He’d push through it for you because he was devoted to being near you as much as possible since he didn’t want to lose anymore time with his best friend.

How would Marlon assume this? You’re turning back to your mother now, furrowed brows while you reply, “why did he think that?”

“He said he saw the both of you running around the park together. He wanted to say hi but you and Juan seemed to be racing and he didn’t want to interrupt.” Your mother informs, staring at you two underneath her eyelashes with her lips moving back to the rim of her glass.

This didn’t make you feel any sort of way because you also haven’t seen Marlon in years either. You weren’t really checking for him but—the breakup didnt turn sour—it was mutual! however it was interesting to see different perspectives on how people viewed you and Juan.

Juan was gone from New York by the time you both reached your early twenties and by then you were still with Marlon. Juan would visit up at school and hung out with you two a couple of times! even when Marlon tried to put him onto some college girls…there was a part of Juan that felt like he was guilty of something.

Even when he engaged in activities—sure it may have felt great in the moment but he always ended up feeling like shit since he wanted it to be you.

So yes you were part of the reason why he got out of New York and to find a better sense of direction for himself.

You’re shrugging your shoulders redirecting the conversation, “well..I’m sorry things didn’t work out with his wife.”

“Are you?”

“Mom! Chill.” Your brother stepped in which you were somewhat thankful for. Why were you always getting shit on when you knew it was on the tip of your mother’s tongue that your brother “should” be thinking about marriage since she hinted at you once before during your girl’s day.

Although you and your dad both were aware that your brother didn’t want to get married.

“I’m just saying you should think about it or what about that guy from high school? The funny looking one.”

“They were both goofy to me. Especially Stu.” Your brother snorted while you shielded your middle finger from your mother to direct at your sibling.

Your first boyfriend was senior year and he cheated on you with a redhead because he got dumped prior to asking you out. It made sense to him but definitely not to you.

Yeah that’s highschool stupidity for you!

Juan shuddered at the mention of your first boyfriend, “man that guy? He was ridiculously obnoxious in and outside of class and hung out with that other guy…the one who gave me serious serial killer vibes.”

“You did always say that,” you laughed to yourself and couldn’t deny it. You never wanted to be alone with Stu’s best friend at the time, the way his dark eyes bored into yours always made you feel uneasy.

“He’s harmless!” Stu would persuade you before always leaving you with him for at least a minute or two.

Your mother pried, “Well where is he now?”

“Hell if I know? Probably married to another redhead with three or four kids? Still possibly cheating? What is this, a walk down memory lane?”

Juan could sense you were getting agitated about this and placed his hand right above your knee which made you exhale.

Your mother is raising her hands, “I’m just looking out for you and your brother’s happiness. That’s all.”

“I am happy. Go dig in his business then, it’s his birthday anyway.�� You suggested while your mother just scoffed.

Raising your brows, your mother continued knowing that you were always ready to challenge her, “I will but when’s the last time you’ve been in a serious relationship?”

“Are you the expert when it comes to relationships now? You waited six months after the divorce from dad to get married to someone else. You settled for dad’s bullshit for years and now suddenly you want to micromanage what goes on in mine? Are you keeping this same energy with your step kids?”

Your brother is calling your name as a warning now but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t triggered.

growing up having your mother constantly in your ear saying to you, “you’ll never get a bf because of xyz.” Simply from little stupid things you would do as a pre-teen to teenage years was damaging because you were just an insecure kid not worrying about romantic relationships in the slightest. Although you had a mother who seemed to be more concerned about the male gaze for you.

So what if your room got messy? So what if there were days where you didn’t want to be bothered with your hair? Or was too much in grown folks business when your mother would gossip on the phone about inappropriate subjects right in front of you! while also bringing up all of your business to her friends or family members like some sort of humiliation tactic and then never taking your emotions into account when you voiced your discomfort?

Don’t get it wrong, of course you had love for your mother but you couldn’t erase what was said and done. A list of things that still stuck with you and things that you should perhaps just “let go of,” yet she still felt comfortable to talk about your love life like you were some low self-esteem kid.

You never had that relationship where you felt safe to share anything with your mother because of her critiques.

“Hold on now, I’m just trying to make conversation—

“You don’t need to. Not when it comes with an opinion i never asked for to match.”

Then comes the tears and Saskia is tending to her, whisking your mother away to the bathroom with her crying to Sas about how she, “tries to be a good mother and these are the things she gets.”

“Did you have to do this on my day?” Your brother sighs while your eyes are in slits.

“You and dad are the exact same, always expecting me to just take it. I don’t give a damn if it was Easter, if she’s coming at me then I’m going to let her know. I know she’ll always be mom but she refuses to ever see my side on anything.”

“Why does it have to be about sides? We’re family at the end of the day.”

The famous excuse for it all so it seems!

“And we must always be on some we are the world bullshit too, no matter what huh?”

Juan covers his snort at this, which earns him a look from your brother, leaving Juan to mumble out an apology.

It’s quiet for a moment as your brother tries to figure out how to make this okay but you don’t want to stick around to continue this dinner. In your eyes it felt ruined already.

Only seconds pass when you decide it’s best if you go. You’re on your feet, slipping back into your outerwear before wrapping an arm across your brother’s shoulders squeezing him as you peck his temple.

“Love you, mean it. I’ll take you out myself at another time.” You say as all your older brother can do is nod his head, briefly resting his hand on top of yours before you let go.

You’re peering at Juan who’s still seated and say, “want to take a walk with me?”

“Sure, whatever you want, yeah!” He sits up before grabbing his beanie and jacket, “I don’t care.”

You quickly begin to walk off before your sas and your mom come back, sending a silent message to your old friend that you’ll be outside.

Your brother tells Juan, “look after my sister, okay?”

“You got it,” Juan says, wishing the older man another birthday wish before making his way out to you.

The both of you are now walking side by side, enjoying the city’s lights and each other’s company.

“Thanks for coming with me. The longer I sat there getting into it with my mom the faster my brain was telling me to get the fuck out. I figured: let's take a stupid walk for our stupid mental health!"

Juan chuckles at this, “I know what you mean. I also had a disagreement with my sister too before I crashed at yours.”

That revealed just a dash about what led to Juan’s mood last night.

“Yeah?” Your eyes peep to the left of you at the beanie-wearing man, “You want to talk about it?”

It wasn’t much different with what went down with you and yours. Except Juan’s mother was the one to break it up and scold him for defending himself against his sister.

She still felt like he didn’t have himself together (despite the fact that he was now working at a mechanic shop and had a side tech gig at an outlet mall—paid under the table now! If you’re talking about his mental then that was a different story!) either and was the main one who told him not to go out to California. She begged him to stay and that began their estrangement.

His sister blamed him for his own unhappiness and if he would have stayed here maybe he wouldn’t have dealt with that darkness charming brought him.

Which hurt to hear.

He walks even closer to you now as he said, “nah, not really if that’s okay?”

“What?” You lightly bumped his shoulder, “Course it is, just know you can when you want to.”

He gives you a lopsided smile, “Thanks.”

You loop an arm around Juan’s waist, resting your head against his shoulder, as you blended into the city together.

Juan’s dreamed of times like these except you were miles apart but hearts still in sync.

The silence between you two lets you know that you’re both holding onto something so heavy but find that it doesn’t weigh as much when you’re both near each other.

By the time you’re making your way back to your side of town, one subway ride later and more miles to walk back to your place—the night feels like any normal routine.

Eventually the both of you fall into chatter and soft smiles as you continue your rest on the subway, head tucked underneath juice’s chin that his facial hair still pricks your thick hair but you don’t mind.

You’re both laughing about old times when you reach your 1975 raised ranch, half standing on the steps and you’re wiping the tears from the corner of your eyes, “you coming in?”

The last thing Juan wanted to do was head back to his ma’s side of town so a dip of his head was all that you needed, sending him a smile and a nudge of your head to welcome him back inside.

“We gotta eat something although you’re really not supposed to eat after seven…”Juan says to you after kicking off his shoes and heading straight from the main entrance pass the living room right to the kitchen.

“I forgot how much of a health freak you are.” You tease, hanging up your coats in the near by closet.

Juan’s mumbling to himself as he moves around the cut off kitchen, “And you need more fruits and veggies in here. What’s the point of having a juicer and having nothing to use it?”

“My common law sister in law? If you believe in that sort of thing! got it for me. It works as decoration,” You argued, “I can just go buy me a fruit or veggie juice.”

“And be wasteful of this beautiful gift?”

“If you want it, I’ll regift it to you for a belated Christmas gift then.” You sass, going to lean in the archway.

Juan shakes his head while he’s eyeing all the ingredients he’s laid out on the counter, “no point in doing that if I’m just going to be over here majority of the time anyway.”

“Oh is that right?”

“I mean…yeah…if you’re comfortable with that.”

You roll your eyes, “I’ll take you for as long as I can have you, Juanie and you know that.”

He casts a smile over his shoulder at you before waving his hand along formally towards the dining room, “have a seat. This won’t be anything extravagant since your selection of food kinda sucks…we’ll talk about that later but I need my work space clear.”

You saluted, “heard chef,” before you walked into the next room over.

Which leaves you to send off a text to your brother letting him know you both made it safe before choosing to browse social media.

The words of your mother did get into your head as you’re sitting here searching up your two exes and you laugh to yourself at how foolish you were being. You haven’t though about either of those two in a long time, not in the same way you thought about Juan nearly every day.

Yet here you were letting your mother get into your head again: about two men that didn’t hold meaning to your life now.

“Bon appetite.” Juan tells you after awhile, placing the plates down on the table and picking the seat right next to you.

“And what do we call this meal?”

“P.O. In 10. Which stands for: party’s over in ten minutes.”

You both stare at each other and let out a laugh, “how clever.”

A struggle meal of: ground turkey on ranch Doritos topped with cheese and left over black olives with a side of strawberry moscato was your dinner for that night and you didn’t dare complain.

Juan’s gone into one of his rapid conversations of one of his old friends, a guy named chibs that he would have loved for you to meet and of course you find it sweet that he still found someone to speak highly of when he’s vaguely told you that all was not well in charming.

“can i see your hand?" You suddenly ask the man who’s grown out his hair and sported facial hair that made him appear older.

Juan’s finishing off the last of his homemade nacho’s, stuffing his face but doesn’t hesistate as he places his smooth veiny but much larger one into yours, “sure, why?"

You’re tracing the lines of his palm and recall the time the both of you went to a palm reader on senior skip day for shits and giggles although Juan seemed to believe every word the lady said.

He said he had a great tía from Puerto Rico that he met once or twice who was very spiritual but different from a palm reader. His mother got pissed off when she brought her work to the house that one time when she was supposed to be looking after him and his sister.

That soon became Juan’s job.

You wondered about how these hands had to scrap their way through just to survive.

Then you explain, “so i can see how well it fits with mine." Before interlacing your right with his and Juan can’t help but to grin at you.

And there’s that boyish smile that spreads to the corners of his eyes that you can’t resist while he speaks with you, “You’re so cute, you’re corny. If you wanted to makeout, all you had to do was just say so.”

You don’t think about it, “alright, maybe I do.”

“What?! Don’t joke like that.” Juan’s eyes are wide now, ready to slip his hand right from yours.

“I’m not.” You lift your shoulders as Juan sits back in the chair with a sigh.

Juan’s staring at you with a curiosity that makes you want to look away but you can’t.

“What if all we needed was to just be honest with ourselves and look at what’s directly in front of us.”

“…I don’t follow.”

“Us, Juan! I always felt like i was waiting for something, even with the others after Stu and Marlon. There was always this pull and maybe that was you…and if this is all in my head just say that. You can tell me.”

Juan rubs at his face in thought. He already knew how he felt about you and how it never went away.

“No…it’s not all in your head. I don’t know if you know this but…you’ve always been it for me and I—learned to be okay with just being your best friend since that’s what you always wanted from me. I thought moving across the country was the answer but that only hurt us more.”

“Part of me felt like you didn’t care who I was with. You just took it for what it was.”

“You’re so wrong,” Juan scoffed out some laughter, “I just wanted you be happy and not be selfish about wishing it was me that got to do everything with you all the time. They took my space.”

You instantly reply, “Never could.”

“No?”

“No, blockhead.” You lightly grip and shake his shoulders.

“Now we’re down to the insults I see.”

You shrug with a smirk, “Let me kiss you…just to see.”

“See what?” Juan felt his heart hammering in his chest now, “That we’re completely in love with each other? A kiss won’t tell me what I don’t already know, babe.”

A scrunch of your nose is present, “Not you sounding like you don’t want to kiss me—

“What—no—

Sighing you got up from the chair and plopped right down in Juan’s lap, wrapping your arms across his shoulders and staring into his eyes that softened as they settled on your close proximity.

“You smell nice,” he awkwardly says, carefully placing his hands right down on your hip.

You laugh as you move your hands to cup his face, lightly caressing your thumbs over his facial hair, looking at his lips and then back to his eyes before you lean forward to place your lips right on his.

His hands tighten around you but his shoulders seem to relax. Juan can’t hold back the moan in the back of his throat that escapes his parted lips but that doesn’t stop him from kissing you back.

There’s tongue in there somewhere in the mix and the hold the both of you have on each other is enough to erase the miles that were once placed between you.

His hooked nose brushes against yours as you pull back, eyes closed and trying to catch your breath. His forehead rests against yours and Juan has to clear his throat and blink several times in hopes of getting rid of the static that sits in the center of his bottom lip.

“Wow,” he exhales with a grin while you’re playing with the strand of curls at the back of his head.

A satisfied smile is on your face, “What was that shit you were talking?”

“I wasn’t talking shit,” Juan frowns, “I was just saying that my heart already knows what it wants without putting my lips on yours. I loved you the moment your mom forced you to be my friend.”

You shake your head with a smile, “that didn’t take much force, Ortiz. I always thought you could be the one.”

“And…you never said anything why? That would have saved us a lot of time!”

You shrug, “I think our love story is meant to start now.”

“Nope it’s been a W.I.P. but now the progress is actually progressing…”

You squint, “With both of us tasting like Doritos and strawberry wine?”

“If it makes sense to mother universe then who am I to argue with her?”

“At least one of us gets it then.” You kiss his cheek and go to move off his lap but he yanks you right back, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Yeah, that maybe love’s always got our back in the end.”

“So…that’s what’s poking me right now?”

Juan feels his face burn, “Sorry—I—couldn’t help it.”

“I could—

“No. Nope. Not yet, let me just hold you and get used to the fact that I get to kiss you from now on. If…we get to labeling each other that is.”

“You want to be mine, Ortiz?”

“Don’t tell me you can’t tell.” He groans pressing his forehead into your shoulder leaving you laughing.

“Only if I get to be yours.”

“Fuck yeah!”

You nuzzle your face against his profile as you hum, “I’ll love you even more for the rest of my life Juan Carlos Ortiz…sounds like a plan?”

And he feels his heart swell at that, knowing that he didn’t have to be alone anymore the longer he had you in his arms.

“Sounds like the best plan, yet. And I love you too, so much.” He gently says into your ear before you turn to him again, capturing his lips once more.

જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩 જ⁀➴ᡣ𐭩

February fluff anthology series continues here.

#Spotify #queued #SOA #sons of anarchy #juan juice ortiz #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #Juan Carlos Ortiz #Juan Carlos juice Ortiz #theo rossi #February fluff #february prompts

[sebaria]

#sons of anarchy #SOA chibs #chibs telford #Tommy Flanagan #soa tig #tig trager #Alex Trager #filip telford #soa juice #juice ortiz #Juan Carlos Ortiz #theo rossi #Jax Teller #soa jax #my gifs #soa gif #kim coates #Charlie Hunnam

[garbinge]

Chalk Drawings

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

Day 22 from these April Prompts: Chalk Drawings

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

Words: 1.9k 

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

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

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy smiled, oblivious to your sarcasm and nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where the kids?” He asked still smiling. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[narcolini]

good boy

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blank. ‘To me?’

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

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

‘I’m Juice,’ he says, thank God.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Is it that obvious?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh really?’

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

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

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

‘Good boy.’

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

‘I’ll be right back,’ he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

——————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brow raises. ‘A normal amount?’

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

‘I’ve got beer in the fridge?’

He nods. ‘Thanks.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘And Juice is super cool,’ you taunt.

‘Touché.’

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

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

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

‘And you think I am?’

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

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

‘I think you want to be,’ you admit.

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

Yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum. ‘Maybe you have.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘And I didn’t say I wasn’t into it.’

The corner of his lip tweaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘God, you’re good.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

[drakoneve]

Sons of Anarchy Masterlist

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

Tig Trager

Long Run.

Tig w/ a cat person

Chibs Telford

coming soon...

Jax Teller

coming soon...

Juice Ortiz

Destined Meetings.

Opie Winston

coming soon...

Happy Lowman

coming soon...

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

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

these two together. <3

I just think this friendship was so important. season four, after juices suicide attempt - chibs was the only one to notice anything was going on. and the way he vowed to keep an eye on him?? chibs was always going out of his way to check juice was alright. that bathroom scene makes me emotional every time. their whole relationship was basically destroyed by season seven, which was so sad :(. breaks my heart that juice lost every single person he loved.

chibs is just the most incredible character man, so loyal and eager to help those he loves. he's SO underrated. what an angel. also he's super fuckin sexy but that's a whole other conversation

#chibs telford #juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #filip telford #sons of anarchy #soa #juice and chibs #chibs and juice

[ravennaortiz]

Secret Part 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[your-space-brain]

Narcan Dreams

Juan Carlos “Juice” Ortiz x Reader - One Shot

Gif does not belong to me.

Moved from @spacedbrainnn .

“I’m fine.” He would say.

“It just takes the edge off.”

“I’m not even doing that much.”

“It’s just a downer.”

“I’m not high.”

“Why are you asking so many questions?”

“What do you care?”

“It’s not even a drug.”

There were so many questions you’d ask and he would always have an answer. He always did. He was hidden behind brown eyes and a drug that suppressed the system that got nervous. It didn’t excite anything but the script was controlling his marionette strings.

Oxycontin.

He was becoming more and more apparent with it, and he knew that, but he needed it. He desired it, to the point he couldn’t control his eyes. They would get heavy and his mind would feel like it was crawling down his spinal cord. He was becoming too evolved in it.

Then, you found him.

He was laying there on the ground, his mouth open and he was hardly breathing. The sight alone, him there like a wax figure that had fallen over, sent a chill over you that felt like you were plunged into a dreadful ice bath.

“Shit.” The word fell out of your mouth as you collapsed on your knees beside him. His face was clammy and sweaty in your hands. Patting his cheek, you said his name.

“Juice.” It didn’t seem to do anything, so you popped him a bit harder as he didn’t have a response. Cradling his face, his body was dead weight, his head rolling in your hands before you saw the foam forming at the corner of his lips.

“Fuck, Juice. I told you to stop messing with this shit.” The words were to yourself to keep your mind from hitting fifth gear in manual overdrive. When you began to dig in your bag, your hands were shaking.

“Where is it? I know it’s in here.” Things shuffled around noisily but it didn’t matter. None of it did. None of the things in that bag were what you were looking for until you found it.

Narcan.

Popping the cap off, you shoved the nasal spray into his nostril and popped the plunger all the way in. The mist travelled his nose to his brain and hit the capillaries and nerves of his cerebral overdose. Then, like he was never down, his body jerked and his eyes opened.

“What’s happening?”

“Shut up.” You snapped as you tossed the vial away.

“What?”

“I said, shut up.” You repeated as you sighed. His brows knitted as if he didn’t know he just nearly ended his own life, and when you hauled him up by the leather that was almost desperately attached to his body, he nearly choked.

“Do you understand that you could’ve just died?” He swallowed when you got nose to nose with him, your breathing slightly labored because you were at your whit’s end. If you weren’t holding his cut, you’d have been trembling.

“Died, Juice. Dead. Gone. Without me. You’d leave me here with these fuckers." The realization made his brows lower as he sighed, his breath so dangerously close to your mouth as you sighed yourself.

“I can’t lose you, idiot. You’re a fucking idiot.” The verbal abuse spewed from your mouth out of fondness. You didn’t care.

“I need you. Do you not get that? I’ve questioned you for a reason—”

“[First name], breathe—”

“No.” The tears began to form. “Dammit!” You let him go to push them from your eyes, cussing more at yourself than at him.

“[First name]—”

“Dammit, Juice.”

“I’ll… I’ll work on stopping. I can’t see you like this.” He spoke honestly as he took you by the shirt this time, pulling himself up to stare you in the eyes with his large brown ones. “I promise.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

— end —

#juan carlos ortiz #Theo Rossi #juice ortiz #juice x reader #sons of anarchy imagines #sons of anarchy one shots #your space brain

[lovearne]

Silence

Juice (Juan Carlos Ortiz) x male! Reader

My page is 18+ only. I don't tolerate minors here. This is my safe place to express myself, and I don't consent to minors viewing my works or my blog.

Warnings: silent treatment (kinda), homophobic views (not really specified), sad theme (kinda), juice is a big old softie who wants to be babied by his boyfriend

5 days. You'd not seen your boyfriend in 5 days.

He'd not wanted to tell anyone, especially anyone in the club. He didn't know how they'd react to him being gay. Well, he doesn't know his sexuality for sure anymore. Before he'd started dating you, he thought he was straight. Turns out he's not. 

He's terrified to use a title for his sexualtiy because then it makes it real. Makes it a lie to the club, because as far as he knows, the club doesn't allow gays in the MC. 

He's normally radio silent for a few days during a run, but this? This was different. This was yards different. He'd been scheduled for a hearing, and then disappeared. You'd went downtown and asked around about him and the club, the only answers You'd gotten were from a still grieving and tortured Chief Unser, he mumbled a few things and waved you off.

"No, chief you don't understand." You tired to plead with him. 

"I understand just fine." He interrupts you. "I'm not helping the sons, and I don't know where they are." You nod.

"Can I file a missing person's?" The chief's eyes narrow a little at you.

"And what exactly is your affiliation with the club?" You smile uncomfortably.

"I'm just a worried friend. And customer. I went by the past couple of days and I haven't seen anybody. I'm worried more about Juan Carlos, he's not the most mentally stable and I'm afraid after the events of Kip's funeral, he did something to himself." Unser sighs.

"OK, we'll send a patrol out to do a wellness check. Check things out." His face changes, putting on a small fake smile as he rubs your upper arm. "Don't worry son, I'm sure he's fine."  He makes eye contact and for a second, a spilt second you thought he'd maybe knew. "I'm sure he's like your brother, everyone has one close to them." He definitely didn't know. Your shoulders fell, you'd thought, maybe, just maybe you'd be able to confide in one person about your life. "The boys will take care of him. I'm sure he'll call you when he's free to look at your car." You sigh frustratedly, getting up and storming out of the police station. 

You walked your way back, to angry to be able to drive properly. You don't understand why you weren't getting answers, didn't understand why Juice was so afraid to tell people that he loves you. If straight people can love publicly, then why can't gay people? 

On the walk back to your house, their clubhouse came to view, you seen a few of the guys, seeing of the men you know well enough, you wave, he gestures you to come onto the property. He calls your name fondly, the dirty blond man beside him furrowing his brows.

"Who the hell is that guy?" Tig casts him a glare and moves to give you a half hug. 

"This is juicey boys best friend, they go way back." Tig then looks at you. "You come here looking for him?" You nod.

"Yeah, he doesn't normally dodge me like this, got worried." Tig nods in understanding. 

"It's a club matter, so I can't tell you where he is." You nod.

"I know all about club business being kept. Just tell me if he's alive?" Tig and the man, look at each other and then back at you. Tig nods, you smile. "I'm not going to ask, but thanks for letting me know." He nods again, putting his hand on your shoulder. This is the second time a man older than yourself has placed his hand on you like a dad would to a son. You guessed, since it's in the name of their MC, the older men treat the younger men like sons.

"Your friend is gonna be just fine." He squeezes your shoulder and then moves to leave. The words burn on your tongue as you hold them back. You weren't friends, you were lovers.

The next day, you received a call from Juice, you ignored it.

A shuffle and dip of your bed wakes you in the middle of the night, looking at your clock, it reads 2:00, it's very late and very early all at once. You smile slightly at the disagreements you'd had with your boyfriend about the terminology, they were mostly conversations you'd had high and dumb, way before the two of you got together. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He sounds tired. "Been a rough few days." You turn your head, trying to avoid this conversation, pretending to go back to sleep. You hear Juice sigh. You feel him shuffle on the bed, taking off his shoes and jeans, you heard his sighs and grunts as he moves. You still just laid beside him, you didn't want to fight, you wanted to be glad he was home, safe. You relax a little as you feel him spread out on the blanket beside you, desperately longing to reach for him, yet he's still so far. You want to initiate cuddles and tell him how much you've missed him. But the radio silence hurt. So you stay laying as you are, not too long later you feel his hand on your shoulder, his body leaned over yours slightly. 

"I know you're asleep, and you won't hear this. But I want to tell you anyway, because my mind is so, it's just so goddam loud." He leans closer and places a soft kiss against your temple. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was leaving, and I'm sorry for not answering or returning your calls. I'll tell you this in the morning. I'm planning on sticking here with you tomorrow, we can spend the day together. I still have to do my jail time, so I wanna soak up as much time as possible with my pretty boy." He places another kiss on your bare shoulder. 

"Cuddles?" You couldn't help but say something. The  so thick in your throat that the word came out deeper than you intended. You could hear your boyfriend's excitement as he shuffled under the blankets, feeling his hips make contact with your ass, and his arms wrapped around you, face pressed into your neck. You felt at home. He was here with you, and nothing was going to come between you. 

#juice x reader #male!reader #mlm fanfic #mlm #juice ortiz #juan carlos ortiz #juice x male!reader #sons of anarchy #soa fanfic #male reader

[juancarlos-ortiz]

Marked for Carnage Masterlist

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

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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

[little-horror-smut]

There is no better trio out there than these

#kim coates #tommy flanagan #theo rossi #tig #tig trager #alexander tig trager #juice #juan ortiz #chibs #chibs telford #juan carlos ortiz #sons of anarchy #soa #trio #partners in crime #hot #hotties

[sebaria]

#juice ortiz #Juan Carlos Ortiz #sw juice soa #theo rossi #soa #sons of anarchy #my gifs

[garbinge]

I lied

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

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

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of bruises/cuts.

SOA Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I lied.” 

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

[narcolini]

no goodbyes

juice ortiz x gn!reader, 2710 words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Wow.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Is that—?’

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

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

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

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

‘Nearly there,’ he says from above.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Where is he?’

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

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

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

And better you, than him, right?

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

‘I don’t think I can walk, Juice.’

‘You can.’

You have to.

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

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

‘You got my six when I go out there?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘That’s it.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Talking to himself now. His benefit, not yours.

‘Babe?’

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

[manestjerne]

Let me save you pt. VI

Juice Ortiz x female

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: blood, bad language, violence, mentions of sex(?), angst

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry for such a long break, I had this in my drafts for some time, but couldn't get myself to post it, but I'm back now and I'll try to be more consistent 🫶🏻

Walking to the kitchen alone in the morning was a really bad decision. The place was a complete mess and so many things I never wanted to see flashed before my eyes. Passing a few people I really wanted to stop and make sure they’re still alive, but gladly I just walked pass by the disgusting scene, making sure I won’t put my foot in anything on the floor, either people or weird, unrecognized substances. Too early to eat anything as always I just poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down by the kitchen table, praying no one walks in. I haven’t talked with anybody besides Juice about yesterdays situation and I wasn’t sure if they approved what I did. Gemma is probably proud. Looking at the shelves filled with instant food packages I realized I used to do much worse things. Yeah, but you were home. Your place. It’s not my place anymore, but it was back then. I don’t think I have my place now, but it’s definitely not here. Showing up at night looking like I was hit by a truck and then showing some attitude to a girl who’s from here was probably not the best option. Was it? I locked my eyes on a canned chicken soup and my stomach turned upside down. That’s disgusting. 

- Hey - I flinched when Bobby pulled me out of my thoughts 

- You’re up early.

It’s not early, but looking at how many people were still passed out it was surprising to see someone alive.

- Decided to give my liver a rest yesterday - he replied calmly pouring himself a cup of fresh coffee and sitting next to me - What about you? 

- My liver deserved a rest years ago, I’m too old for that kind of parties - I said jokingly to keep the conversation as far from the shattered glasses as I could 

- I don’t know how he did that, but Chibs told us you’re not letting things like that slide easily. 

Shit, my brilliant plan didn’t work.

- Look, I don’t want to sound like a toddler, but she started. I’m not here to cause any drama.

- Actually - he looked down trying to hide his smile - I’m sure some people there were glad somebody finally did that. 

- What do you mean? - he tried to lock his eyes with mine but I kept looking at the chicken soup in the corner 

- See, Ima is the CaraCara girl.  Not many are fond of her, but she’s making good money with Layla, and there’s actually no reason to get rid of her, a pornstar being annoying and slutty is not that much of a deal when you think about it. I work at the studio as an accountant so I spend quite a lot of time with the girls, maybe I don’t know them that well, but you know…

- Deep inside she’s just a lost, lovely girl? - I asked with a little sarcasm when I saw him struggling to finish the sentence, but he bursted out laughing 

- No, she’s really just an annoying slut, I don’t know where I was going there.

I finally left the soup and looked at him laughing, felt a smile forming on my face.

- Just don’t blame yourself, you sat here looking like you had a moral hangover.

- I don’t actually blame myself, but feels like I needed someone else to say that, thanks Bobby.

He replied with a warm smile. 

- I should go and finish the party for good now, see you later.

I sat there for a minute after he left. It’s kinda sad people approach me when I’m just sitting alone, my resting face must be extremely depressed. I slowly got up from the chair and dragged my feet back to the bedroom. When I walked into the room Juice just got out of the bathroom. I looked at the single cup of coffee in my hand. Lovely. 

- And that’s… for you - I smiled and handed him the cup which he accepted with his hand still wet from the shower

- Oh wow, so lovely, you went there just to get me a coffee and didn’t even think about yourself? - he took a sip and handed me the cup back with a smile 

- I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that. 

He would bring me a coffee. 

- Who were you talking to? - he asked calmly but I felt shivers anyway

- No one. 

Why would I lie? What’s the point? He turned back to me and laughed politely to ensure me he’s not mad, but curious. 

- You were sitting there for so long alone? Come on, I just want to know if you’re getting along with anybody - he still smiled softly putting on  his shirt 

- Oh, excuse me? - I laughed forgetting about how uncomfortable I just was - I was talking with Bobby, but just so you know, I get along with a lot of people here. Like Lyla, she’s great. And Chibs. And Tig. Oh, and Opie, yeah, Opie’s cool. And… And Chucky! 

- Okay, alright - he wrapped his arms around me to stop me from thinking of more names - I’m glad you’re feeling good here. 

- Yeah, about feeling good, it’s great here, but can we go home? 

- Sure - he said not letting me go

- I believe you have to let me go so I can grab my stuff and get in the car. 

- Oh Christ, sorry I was even touching you princess. Want me to carry you so your shoes don’t get too dirty? - he responded handing me my bag 

How is he smiling all the time? That’s probably the thing I love about him the most, but that’s also something to think about. On our way to the car we stopped at the bar. Bobby sitting on the stool with his face hidden in his hands was looking pretty pathetic. But not so pathetic as all the people still lying in different, sometimes weird places. 

- How was your finishing the party? - I asked putting my hand on his shoulder, he patted it lightly 

- Just as you can see. You know what? - he looked at our bags - I’m going home too, Clay should handle this, I’m not responsible for other charters, am I? 

- You should go - Juice said firmly, exactly as he needed, Bobby immediately got up and walked us to the car 

- I believe todays vote will be postponed for tomorrow - he said before Juice sat behind the wheel - use your day off well.

Looking at me he smiled once again and next seconds Juice was starting the engine. 

- Gross - I said jokingly 

- What do you mean? 

- That thing about your “day off”. Use it well. On me? Come on. 

- That’s not what he meant - he sounded serious, but a smile was still fully visible on his face 

- Then what did he mean? 

- He definitely meant my bike, I should work on it - he now laughed out loud - by the way, you saw it? 

I moved my head and looked out through the window. 

- Saw what? 

- My bike. 

- Yeah, I see it pretty much everyday, it’s hard to not see it when you live with a biker. It’s nice, even lovely I’d say. 

- I don’t mean that one. 

I kept looking through the window acting like I don’t know about the other one hidden in the garage. He shouldn’t be mad, I definitely didn’t break anything, but maybe he doesn’t know I’ve touched it, why should I tell him myself? 

- You have more than one bike? That’s so cool - I smiled to myself and felt him staring at the back of my head 

- Y/n, you know I won’t be mad. 

- Mad? About what? - I realized he can see my face in the reflection on the glass so I immediately stopped smiling and looked at him. 

- Just wanted to tell that you did well - he smiled at my reaction - must’ve taken you a few hours, huh? 

- I’m sorry, but it’s pretty boring to be alone and not at home, I was looking for anything to do. And when did you even have time to see that I’ve touched it? I left all the tools exactly where they were before, you have like a dairy or what? - I laughed and realized we were pulling into the driveway 

- Sometimes when I can’t sleep and think too much I go there trying to relax, so you don’t know I did that probably because you were sleeping. 

- You know - I stopped because he rushed to open the door for me right after he parked - you know you can talk to me? I’m probably better at that stuff than your secret bike. 

- I’m not schizophrenic or anything, I do all the talking in my head so it won’t be weird. 

I just gave him a meaningful look and followed him inside. 

- I’m worried about tomorrow - I said after settling on the couch 

- What’s tomorrow? Your first day at work? - my blank stare must’ve said everything because he continued without my answer - Why? You did all that nursing stuff before, didn’t you? 

- No, I’ve actually never done that, that’s why they hired me. What’s wrong with you today? - I took a sip of  my tea waiting for his response wondering if I’m not too harsh, but he laughed as softly as always 

- I think I’m just tired. 

- Tired of bitches hitting up on you all night? 

- Alright, from what I can remember there was only one bitch hitting up on me yesterday. 

- And I really hope you mean Ima - I laughed 

I was pretty shocked I got over it so fast and didn’t overthink what happened last night. 

- Well, you definitely don’t need to beg me for attention so I definitely didn’t mean you. 

Is this about the “I love you” thing? I really don’t want to talk about this now. 

- Good to hear that - I smiled and run to another topic immediately - so do we have a free evening today or you want to go check in at the club? 

- Remember what Bobby said? - he asked playfully 

- Oh come on, I’m serious now.

- Yeah, me too. How about a movie night? 

- How about a walk? 

Looking at his face I could see my question put him off guard. 

- What? - I laughed at the silence 

- Where do you want to go? - his tone became more firm and calm

- I don’t know, aren’t there any parks here? - I laughed and grabbed his thigh gently - Juice, if you don’t want to we don’t have to do that, I just asked. But I’d still like to know what’s so terrible about walks. 

I tried to stop smiling but the fact that he looked terrified by the idea of taking a walk was pretty hilarious. 

- No, I’m sorry, of course we can go for a walk, it’s just that I prefer spending my free time at home - he smoothed out the pillow not even looking at me

- Are you really afraid something might happen? - I asked moving other pillows out of his reach when he tried to grab another one 

- l just, you know - I don’t, keep talking - well, many people know me here - he finally got the courage to look at me and his sad puppy eyes literally made me want to cry 

- I’m sorry, but what’s wrong with people knowing who you are? - I truly didn’t understand what he meant and asking was the best option since I wasn’t scared of being embarrassed anymore 

- I’m sorry, I just want you to be safe and I know that there are only two places I can be sure about you not getting hurt, here and at the clubhouse. I know it sounds out of line, but some people want to hurt us and they know their best ways to do that. 

-So the best way to hurt you would be hurting me, huh? - I tried to comfort him and did the literal opposite, but still got a little smile from him 

-I know how it sounds, really. Especially when I told you I’m just a member of a club, but- 

-Yeah, I know it’s not just a club, I’m not that stupid - this time comforting him went a little better and he finally took his hand off the perfectly flattened pillow to grab my hand 

-You’re really important to me, and however unrealistic this sounds, I need to protect you at all costs right now. It’s not always going to be like that, but we got ourselves into some trouble lately. 

-Is it about the drugs? The club trying to leave is just not going as Jax planned? 

Maybe I shouldn’t say that, but on the other hand it might help him to open and talk to me. I already knew more than he thought, why wouldn’t he just talk to me about it now? The silence between us was pretty loud and his concerned face made me want to laugh, but I tried to keep a straight face to show him I’m serious. 

-What do you mean „the drugs”? 

-Oh come on, you really want to play that game? - his question annoyed me a little, even tho I did the same thing all the time 

-How do you even know about that? - he wasn’t angry, more stressed and worried, his hands landing on the pillow again 

-Okay, are you going to answer my question or we don’t have anything to talk about? 

-Yes, it’s about drugs. Leaving the business isn’t as easy as we thought, and Clay is not cooperating with Jax. Except this whole shit with drugs we have a lot going on inside our charter. It looks like nothing is going to be  better unless these two work their shit out, and I don’t think it’s going to happen anytime soon - he opened even a little more than I expected, but I was so glad he finally did that - that’s why I’m worried about you and about what might happen.

-Thank you for being honest with me, I really appreciate that - I gently took the pillow from him and replaced it with my hands - I know you can’t talk a lot about the club stuff, but you can still talk about your feelings, that’s not pathetic, I cried in front of you so many times, come on.

I tried to lighten him up and believed it worked, since he gave me a bright smile. 

-Okay, I’ll try, but for now is it enough? - he chuckled 

-Well, I accept that, but I’ll demand more honesty in the future if you want to spend it with me. 

I looked down, his hands, always steady, now shaking a little, not matching his cheerful smile. His eyes dark, I could even say full of joy. Hiding his emotions started getting harder, or maybe I was better at reading it. 

-You have no idea how much I want that - he smiled so adorably I almost fell for it, but another look at his hands worried me again 

Using how close we were to each other I sat on his laps and let him hide his face in my neck. His hands immediately started wandering around my back and when they found the spot he pulled me closer. I tried to sink in the moment, when he suddenly threw me off his knees, my back landing on the soft couch I was trapped by his body. It was so gentle, yet so fast that I froze under him. 

-The fuck was that? - I asked completely confused 

-I just wanted to see your reaction, but that little scream was so cute - wide smile wasn’t leaving his face, he looked amused by my consternation - are you ticklish? 

-Juan, don’t try that, get off me - I said firmly trying not to laugh

-I promise I’ll start talking about my feelings, I just need some time - he said not moving 

-Okay, okay, I trust you but let me go - I was now laughing with him 

He slowly got up letting me do the same thing. I got closer to his face, putting my hands around his neck and just looked him in the eyes. Juice immediately shortened the distance by kissing me, licking my lip I opened my mouth to let him in when the doorbell interrupted us. He slowly pulled back and rested his forehead on mine and I just started laughing. Like a damn movie. 

-Stay here - he got up and dragged his feet towards the door unlocking it slowly 

-Hey Juicy - I heard Chibs so I made my way to the door, not wanting him to take my boyfriend away from me again 

My who? 

-Hi Chibs, perfect timing, what’s up? 

-The vote’s tomorrow at 6 - he smiled softly to greet me 

-And that’s why you came all the way here? - I asked amused by Juice’s reaction 

-Well, maybe if he’d pick up his damn phone I wouldn’t have to do that - he stepped through the door and closed it - that vote might take a little longer, I talked to the guys from north and they are not giving up so easily, just so you know - he gave Juice a serious look - am I interrupting you? 

-No, we were just going to my old place to get some stuff, since you have so much free time you can come with us to help - I smiled at him and then saw Juice’s face - we talked about it yesterday… 

-Oh yeah, we did, I’m sorry - he brightened up immediately 

-Actually I don’t have anything better to do, you want me to call Tig? 

-That would be nice - I said before Juice even opened his mouth - Juice, you have any empty boxes in your garage? 

-Yeah, there are some. 

-So I’ll call Tiggy and you kids go find some boxes so we can go - Chibs smiled at us once again and went through the door 

-Juice - I said with a straight face - did you mute your phone to „use your time well” with me? - I tried not to smile 

-Of course not - he laughed and started walking towards the garage - I must’ve did that by accident.

-You’re a bad liar, really. 

-I think that’s good - he pinned me to the wall and kissed me softly - will we finish that later? 

-Oh god, stop - I laughed and walked under his hand to free myself - let’s get the boxes, how many do you have? 

-And how many do you want? You have much stuff there? - he started going through the empty boxes and throwing the bigger ones in my direction 

-Well, should I get all of it? Will you get me a place when I can store them? - I asked while folding the boxes and putting them aside 

-Can’t you just unpack here? Why would you keep your things in the boxes? 

I kept my eyes on the flatted pile I just made. 

-You want me to stay here for good? I know you for like a month, I can’t just move in. 

-So you’re just living here temporarily, huh? - he also wasn’t looking at me but I saw him smiling 

-Well, if that’s what you mean then I can tell you I was looking for some houses for sale here. 

He threw a last one at me and came closer. 

-I mean that I want you to feel like at home here. You don’t have to move out, I have plenty of free space, there’s even a free bedroom upstairs if you don’t want to share the bed anymore. 

-Don’t you think it’s a little bit early to live together? We’re not even a couple or anything - I tried not to look at him but he made it impossible

-Aren’t we? - he took the boxes I just folded and went outside - I want you to stay here - he yelled while putting them in the trunk 

-Tig will wait at the clubhouse for us, I believe you want to switch the car for a bigger one if we’re taking all of your shit here - Chibs said when I met them at the driveway 

-Yeah, sure - I sat on the passenger sit and waited for Juice to join me 

We drove to Lodi in silence, but I saw him looking at me from time to time, smile not leaving his face. I was really happy about what he said, but didn’t want to show him that i really care about that. Acting casual wasn’t my best skill, but I both didn’t want to scare him or just ruin what we already had, so I chose to ignore my feelings for now. When we pulled up Juice parked the truck right in front of the door and guys left their bikes a little closer to the street. When we entered the building my hands were empty, nobody let me carry anything so I just led them upstairs and unlocked the door. 

-So there’s no elevator here, huh? - Tig asked when i was fighting with my shaky hands to put the key in 

-Yeah, you’ll have to carry all the boxes alone, or you can let me help you - I said opening the door and letting them in 

-You’re not carrying anything, just focus on the packing - Chibs said letting me go in front of him - stop whining Tiggy. 

But I wasn’t listening to him, what I saw made me freeze where I was standing. Should’ve cleaned that up before leaving. Blood drops on the floor, marking the paths where I was walking before I cleaned myself up. Bloody tissues on the table and now also on the floor, bathroom sink still covered in blood, perfectly visible since I left the door open. 

-That’s quite a lot of blood for such a small person - Tig said and put the boxes down - but we’ve seen worse, don’t worry, where should we start? 

We’ve seen worse? That’s it? Wow. 

-You can get all the stuff from here and the kitchen, I’ll go get the bathroom and bedroom - I said and quietly left with a few boxes in my hands 

I never liked packing, but today it was different. I never wanted to see that apartment again, it was so nice and I loved it with all my heart, but now it was hard to feel safe here. Glad that nobody interrupted me I just focused on packing when I heard someone knocking on the door. I went to check what’s going on, but seeing the three of them froze, just staring at the door made me laugh. 

-Are we expecting any guests? - Chibs asked when I entered the room 

-Why don’t you just check who that is? - I said a little bit more annoyed than I meant to

I walked toward the door and saw all of them reaching their belts, pretty sure what they had there. 

-That’s fucking pathetic - I said looking at their reaction and slowly opened the door 

-I thought you’re not going to open, like you’re mad that I just left you, oh wait, you can’t be mad, because you’re the one who left me - Nat laughed and walked pass me not waiting for an invitation to come inside - oh hello gentleman - she put her bag on the table

-Guys, that’s Nat, Nat this is Tig and Chibs, I think you remember Juice - I smiled looking at their reaction 

-Of course I remember, hi everyone - she started going through her bag looking for something 

-Tig, don’t even try - I said when I saw him walking her way - you’re all being rude right now - I laughed when they just kept looking at her not saying anything and got a quiet “hi Nat” from all three as a response 

-But she’s not going to kill us, right? - Chibs joked looking around at the bloody mess - she’s not the one I guess? 

-Sadly I left all my white weapons at home, so you have advantage over me - she moved her head up and looked at his belt - oh I found it, you’re going for a smoke? - she put her lighter in the pocket and looked at me 

-Sure - I responded quickly and followed her to the balcony - how did you even know I’m here? You’re stalking me or what? - I laughed as soon as the door closed behind us 

-I was just walking by and saw two bikes in front of the building, who else could it be? - she sat on the bench and kept looking at me with her weird, cute smile 

-Why are you looking at me like that? - I laughed - it’s been a week, not like I’ve abandoned you or anything 

-Are you okay? I’m sorry, but your explanations over texts weren’t really convincing - she patted the spot besides her 

-I had some mess to clean up lately - I said sitting down 

-Yeah, pretty cute mess - she looked through the window at guys packing my stuff - you live with them? 

-They don’t live together - I laughed loudly at her question - I’m staying at Juice’s for now, I’m not sure what to do next. 

-He rescued you and let you move in after knowing you for a month? What a hero - I knew it was not fully sarcastic, even tho she tried to sound like it - he loves you or what? 

-He actually told me he does - I responded not looking at her 

-Are you shitting me right now? You love him too? Girl what happened to your independent, 'I don’t need any man', lifestyle. I thought you’re just going to fuck him - she shook her head in fake disbelief trying not to laugh 

-I actually don’t know, I didn’t say anything. 

-Okay, you really have to be kidding me - she laughed now 

-Oh shut up, do you want to help me pack since you’re here? 

About an hour later a stack of heavy boxes filled with all my stuff was standing near the door. Tig and Chibs went to the bus to pack the first ones and I sat on the couch to clear things out with Nat. 

-You’re not mad at me, are you? - I asked watching as Juice went to the kitchen and leaned back on the counter 

-Why would I be? - she laughed - because you left me in this shitty town with my shitty job? Come on y/n, I always cheered you up, I’m really glad you got the job you wanted so bad. 

-The job is one thing,  it I still moved away not even telling you straight away, I feel kinda bad about it - and what I said was honest, I knew it was my life and I was the only person who should decide about it, but the demons from my past or whatever we’re still chasing me and I felt like I needed permission for everything 

-Sweetheart - she looked at me with her lovely eyes, and leaned in to make sure I can hear every word she says - are you fucking kidding me? It’s your life and you have to be god damn happy, don’t worry about other people so much, we’ve already been there and I thought you understood it’s a bad idea.

We both laughed and I picked my bag from the floor when the guys came back upstairs. 

-Okay, let’s go - I grabbed a box and headed to the door 

-I don’t think so - Chibs took it from me and placed it back down on the floor - ten minutes and everything should be handled, you should spare your wrists.

Nat joined me and watched all the of them carrying the boxes downstairs.

-What’s your schedule next weekend? - I asked when they disappeared behind the last wall

-Not sure yet, why? Want me to come visit your big town? - she laughed and threw her bag over her shoulder 

-Yeah, you should come by, I’ll probably be alone for a while - she smiled at me and slowly walked through the door

-We’ll keep in touch - she blowed me a kiss - bye, love ya.

-When are you planning to start unpacking? - Juice was leaning on the kitchen counter and looking at the boxes besides the door

I walked up to the fridge and got myself a beer.

-Are they bothering you so much? - I stood next to him looking in the same direction 

-I mean, not really, just wondering - he took a sip from his bottle 

-Oh, you’re such a pedant - I smiled at him - I wanted to at least start today, but I don’t think I have enough energy for that, I’m sorry. This work thing is kind of stressing me out, like it’s my first day ever. I just want it to be over, then I’ll take care of other stuff, is that okay?

-Of course it’s okay - he looked at me as softly as always, I wondered what would I have to do to make him mad - I’ll help you whenever you’re ready.

I didn’t have a chance to answer, because his phone drown my quiet „thanks” out. After his short answers I could immediately recognize it was a call from the club. What else could it be? I was expecting that.

-I need you to come with me - he said firmly while putting his cell back in the pocket 

-I can stay alone Juice, we’ve talked about it. I’ll be fine. 

-No - he looked serious and worried at the same time - They need you at the clubhouse.

I wasn’t expecting that.

-Why? What happened? - I asked when he nervously started looking for the car keys

-Couldn’t tell me on the phone - he answered calmly, still not looking at me - so probably there’s someone to patch up.

-Okay - I said without hesitation and he finally looked at me

-You don’t have to get involved in the club shit, that’s my shit and I can get you out of it if you want. Just this one time if there really isn’t anyone else to help, we’ll figure this out, okay?

-Juice - now I was smiling softly - I’m fine with that, really. Our shit now.

We hurried through the door and it was surprisingly quiet inside, but everyone got up from their seats when we walked through the door. 

-Kozik got hit, Tara’s out of town and we need someone to take care of him. Her bag is already there, just come with me - Jax grabbed my arm and pulled me slightly so | would follow him

I entered the chapel and heard multiple footsteps following me, but I couldn’t focus on that. A blonde man was laying on the massive wooden table. His bare chest was covered in blood, a hole in his upper arm made it pretty clear that he was shot. I froze, not at the fact that a man with probably a bullet in his body was casually laying on the table, a prospect next to him trying to stop the bleeding, but because I was the one to help him. I haven’t done anything like that in some time, had no idea where to start I started panicking quietly. 

-Tell us how to help - Chips nudged me softly but firmly 

-Did it went through? - I asked filled with fake hope 

-Did it what? - the prospect holding a soaked cloth looked at me like I was a ghost 

-How many holes are there? - I smiled sarcastically - Is the bullet still inside or did it went through? Let me see. 

Chibs helped raising Kozik’s arm up and of course the bullet was still inside 

-I’m not a damn neuro or ortho to deal with such stuff smoothly - I said looking through Tara’s bag and trying to focus.

-You don’t have to get him perfectly fine, we can cut that arm off if you’ll say that’s the best option.

-Shut up Tig, that’s not funny anymore - said Jax

I looked up and saw him sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, sipping on his beer like nothing was happening.

I came back to the table and took a closer look at the wound. 

-It’s not deep, you have to hold him still and I’ll take the bullet out - I wasn’t sure how to do that, I had to deal with worse things in the past, but every memory of it just vanished at instant - I’ll count to three.

The faster the better. I saw a bloody mess before digging my fingers into the hole. It was gross even through the gloves, I thought I can feel my legs shaking. Trying not to make more damage I wanted to focus but the screams made it impossible and I couldn’t find the right angle to take a grip on the bullet. 

-Shut him the fuck up - I said calmly concentrating on where my fingers were going and suddenly I looked at my hand, hovered in blood, holding a shiny piece of metal

Glad that the worst part was already over I started to put stitches on, kinda surprised the bleeding almost stopped. 

-I don’t think any arteries were damaged, he should be fine soon - I said to Jax who was sitting on a stool next to mine 

-I really appreciate you came to help us, thank you - he said sadly, eyes locked on the countertop in front of him

-You’ve helped me enough, that’s the least I can do. If you ever need me again, don’t hesitate, I’ll gladly do it again - I said knowing it was bullshit, but he smiled slightly - I really have to go now, but I can check in tomorrow after work if you want me to. 

-That would be great, thank you - he said and I left to find Juice - Are you coming with me? - I said when our eyes met 

-Of course, let’s go -  his eyes not as bright as always, smile almost fully fainted and I instantly knew he was just disappointed with me

Tara would’ve done it better, of course, but she’s not here. I’m not even a doctor, and he’s alive so overall I didn’t do such a bad job. I rested my head on the cold window as I sat down in the passengers seat. The sky was beautifully clear, you could count all the stars, a perfect night for a walk, but surely I should forget about that. I closed my eyes and waited for the car to stop so I could just go to bed and burry myself under the covers. When we pulled up I took my purse from the back seat and grabbed the door handle, but Juice was faster as always. He opened the door for me and gave me his gentle hand along with a polite smile. I rushed ahead of him and quickly changed into my pajamas before crawling into bed, but it wasn’t long before he joined me, putting his hand on m hip and kissing my shoulder. We laid in silence for what felt like hours and I couldnt get myself to sleep, move or even talk. I was completely frozen wandering what he was thinking about.

-I’m sorry - was all I mumbled after getting enough courage to open my mouth

-You’re not asleep? - he stopped rubbing my arm and sounded pretty shocked 

-I really am, I know I should’ve done better, but I was just scared. I don’t know why, it’s not the circumstances, I just felt like I never did that before and it is fucking scary looking at the fact that im supposed to do such stuff everyday starting tomorrow. I think I’ve lost my damn spark, or whatever it was, I should just stayed behind the bar and do what I was good at. I don’t want that job anymore, I don’t want to do that and I’m scarred I’ll fuck someone's life soon, that’s clearly not for me. 

He didn’t interrupt my monologue, just grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over so that I was facing him. Is he really fucking smiling right now?

-I know it sounds pathetic and I don’t just feel sorry for myself, I think I-

He interrupted me this time with a soft chuckle followed by a clearly sad face.

-I should apologize to you, I promised to keep my life away from you, but I didn’t really have a choice there. But you did great y/n, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

-My hands were shaking - I said seriously 

-Have you ever taken a bullet out of a stranger’s arm? In a motorcycle clubhouse? Surrounded by a dozen of other bikers? - he smiled, but I knew it wasn’t honest

-No, but that’s not the point Juice - I heard my voice trembling, not aware of being at the edge of crying

-Oh don’t do that to me, I hate when you cry, especially when it's because of me, I promised not to do that anymore, remember? - his smile seemed more confident now and I almost fell for it 

-It’s not because of you, I don’t want to do that anymore.

-Then don’t - he said calmly looking me in the eyes

-What do you mean, „don’t”?

-Well, just don’t work, be a house wife and let me support you - he got a quiet laugh from me

-I’m sorry I’m such a whiner sometimes.

-I’m sorry I got you into that - he looked at the clock - you should go to sleep now, it’s late.

I didn’t want to know what time it is and I was glad he stayed quiet, knowing how little sleep I’ll get before my first day wasn’t a good idea. I snuggled into his chest feeling relaxed and safe, as I should’ve from the beginning. Next time just talk to him, burying your emotions won’t help.

-Thank you, goodnight.

-Goodnight, I love you. 

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