#juan juice ortiz x you

[bullet-prooflove]

Love Letter: Juan 'Juice' Ortiz x Reader

Tagging: @stydiaswish @goosterroose @darqchilddaydreamz @librarian1002 @redpool @kmc1989 @trublu2u @fleureeee @yezzyyae @jeybae @@hatersaremymotivators @ravennaortiz @courtney-elizabeth93

References to:

Safe - Chibs patches you up after a bad night.

Gunpowder & Lead - Chibs searches for you in the aftermath of Safe.

Home - Chibs decides to take you home. - Companion piece to Safe and Gunpowder & Lead

By the time your letter arrives in the mail Juice has already gone completely off the rails. He spends his nights partying, drinking himself into oblivion and taking a concoction of drugs that even Tig wouldn’t have touched during his wild years.

When he’s not at the clubhouse getting fucked, he’s doing his own fucking back at Diosa. He’s slept with countless women over the past couple of months and none of them get the memory of you out of his head.

It's not your absence that kills him, although that’s part of it. It’s the guilt. He’s the one that put you back on your husband’s radar, the one that insisted you submit that painting into the competition, the one who’d encouraged you to have your picture taken with it.

He recognises your handwriting as soon as he finds the envelop in his mailbox. His thumb chases over the cursive loops before he tucks it underneathe the stack of motorcycle magazines on the coffee table. He knows it’s just a rehash of the phone conversation you had. He can’t stand to go through it again, but he also can’t bring himself to throw it away.

It’s Chibs that finds the letter.

He knows what a man in crisis looks like and he can see that Juice is starting to circle the drain. How it happens doesn’t matter, OD, bar fight, liver failure, the point is it’s doing to happen, and Chibs can’t stand the thought of it.

When he drags Juice home from the clubhouse that night and puts him to bed, he surveys the mess with a sigh. There’s empty beer bottles and take away containers all over the place. A dozen of empty mugs he’s been using as ashtrays. The kid Chibs knows is practically OCD to the point of making sure the tins in his cupboard face the right way, the mess is a sure sign that Juice is struggling.

It's when he starts cleaning up that he comes across the envelop. He tears it open because at this point, he’s looking for some insight because Juice hasn’t been forthcoming. He knows you’ve left but as to the circumstances, the younger man refuses to talk about it.

It’s as he reads the letter than he understands what happened. It’s an echo of his own past, of the night Evelyn turned up at his door with bruises on her face because her divorce had gone through, and her ex had turned up at the house that night.

The difference between you and Evelyn…

She knew she couldn’t outrun that monster, so she’d taken matters into her own hands. She’d been prepared to go to prison for it until he’d stepped in.

You…

You didn’t have it in you. Evelyn was tempered steel underneathe all that silk and litigation. You’re all heart, soft and artistic, the perfect partner for someone like Juice. Chibs sighs before he lays out the letter on the coffee table. Juice needs to read this, he needs to know that it isn’t his fault, that you don’t blame him for what happened because that’s what’s fuelling his self-destructiveness, the guilt of it all.

When the younger man wakes up the next morning, he doesn’t expect to find Chib’s in his kitchen. His head is pounding and there’s that agony in his chest, the one he wakes up with every single morning.

“Sit.” Chibs says, pushing a fresh mug of coffee towards Juice.

Even in his most rebellious moments, he still respects his president. He does as he’s told, wrapping his hands around the coffee mug before bowing his head and staring into the dark liquid.

“You need to read this.” Chibs says, setting the letter down in front of the younger man. He sees Juice’s gaze flicker up to study the writing before his lips purse together grimly.

“No.” He says shaking his head, shoving the letter away from him.

“Lad…” Chibs says firmly before using his fingertips to slide the letter back. “Read it.”

It takes Juice almost five minutes to get through it, because he finds himself re-reading parts of it over and over again, trying to absorb the words, to believe them.

It’s not your fault.

I still love you.

I’ll always love you.

It’s like a dam breaks inside of him and all of that emotion he’s been repressing, it comes rushing to the surface like a flood. He uses the back of his hand to wipe away the tears that leak down his cheeks but not before one falls onto the letter, staining the ink that’s embedded in the paper.

“I thought it was my fault.” He finds himself saying as he sets the letter back down on the table.

“No.” Chibs says, meeting Juice’s gaze. He’s been there himself; he knows the toll that something like this takes on your soul, how it can ravage you, eat you from the inside out.  “None of this is your fault.”

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#juice #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juan juice ortiz #juan juice ortiz x you #juan juice ortiz x reader #juan juice oriz #juice soa

[drakoneve]

Destined Meetings

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

pairing: Juice Ortiz x Trager!Reader

word count: 1.9k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except for the fact none of it was true.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn, I'm made, he thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's your preference?"

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

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

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

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

"Why'd you guys move around?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ravennaortiz]

Hey

Juice 10,24 please

Thank u

Hey there! Lets see what magic we can cook up with Juice and the prompts 10:Shit. There's only 1 bed and 24:No panties?. As Always 18+. This is a little AU

Juice was exhausted as he walked the small cabin that the two of you were staying at for a bit under Chibs orders. Jax had led the club to far in to destruction and the bullets you had taken because of it had been the last straw for Chibs. The two of you had been in the car for the better part of two days and wanted nothing more than to shower and sleep in a decent bed. As Juice trudged back to the car eyes blurry from lack of sleep it hit him.

Shit. He thought to himself as he stopped midstride and walked back through the cabin quickly before sighing heavily. Making his way back to the car where you sat waiting for the all clear you, he tried to put on a smile. You weren't buying it though. "Whats wrong?" you asked as you stepped out of the car carefully. "There is only one bed" replied Juice as he grabbed your arm to steady you. "Your really bad about being helped as a sided note" he added with a laugh. "Not the first time you've said that in the last two days. " you replied as the two of you walked to the cabin with him mostly holding you up.

"I don't get why my uncle is being so....dramatic. This isn't the worst injury I've had nor is it my first bullet wound" you continued. Juice was silent for a moment. While you were not wrong, he also knew like Chibs that Jax had shot you on purpose and he had not been aiming at your leg originally. "He just worries about you. Your the only family he has now" stated Juice as he helped you settle down on the couch before going to get the bags from the car.

***

"Where are you going?" you called sleepily as you turned in the bed as Juice stopped in the doorway with a small blanket and pillow. "Couch to sleep. Duh" he replied with a grin. "Why?" you asked as you watched him. Valid question thought Juice to himself. "Your uncle wants me to protect you not sleep with you" joked Juice making you laugh. "Have you asked him that? " you replied grinning as you caught his unease. "Besides isn't it easier to protect me if your in the same room?" you add as you patted the bed beside you.

"Fine but I'm not happy about this" replied Juice as he made his way over and got in next to you. "Whatever you say" you replied a smile dancing across your face before speaking again. "Wonder if you would change your tune if you knew I only had a tshirt on" you whispered low enough for him to hear. Juice leaned up on his elbow to look at you in the darkness. The two of you had always been close and flirtatious. Juice weighed his options if you were giving him the green light Chibs would probably be okay with this.

"No panties huh?" replied Juice as he moved closer to you as his hand snaked to your hip lightly caressing the fabric of the tshirt making your breath quicken. "Guess you will have to see for yourself" you whispered as you felt his hand move lower toying with the hem of the shirt. "Guess I will" he replied with a grin.

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#sons of anarchy #ravennasmasterlist #ravennasrequest #juice ortiz #soa fanfiction #soa fanfic #juan juice ortiz x reader #imagine juice #juice fanfic #juice imagine #juice fanfiction #juice imagines #juice ortiz fanfic #juice ortiz headcanons #juice ortiz imagines #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice soa

[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!

[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

[drabbles-mc]

Home Safe

Juice Ortiz x GN!Reader

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

Warnings: 18+, fluffy soft goodness

Word Count: 1.4k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything okay?”

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

“Yea?”

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

“I’ll unlock the door for you.”

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

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

“I love you too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckled, “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

He kissed your shoulder, “You.”

“Me?”

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

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

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

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

[filipfuckingtelford]

Just before the shadows fall. Part 1

I'm not sure if it's a Chibs x Reader or Juice x Reader or both. Mystical fanfic.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Juice was sitting with his brothers at the bar in the clubhouse, having beer. He was looking at Happy from time to time, as if he wanted to ask something but couldn't find the right moment and finally the killer noticed it.

"What?" Lowman turned to Ortiz suddenly making him jump.

"What what?" Juice still wasn't sure if he was ready to ask especially now when Happy seemed annoyed.

"You're staring at me like I'm a ghost or something, what do you need, boy?" Happy rolled his eyes.

"Um... yes, I was just wondering is it true that you own a tattoo studio?" Juice finally asked his quiestion.

"Yeah, for almost four years now, why?" Happy shrugged when he realised the boy didn't need anything special.

"I want a new tattoo" Juice explained.

"So?" Hap raised his brows as if he couldn't understand where this was going.

"I was wondering if you will give me a contact of the artist who works in your tattoo shop" Juice shrugged.

"What for?" Happy was now teasing the boy and Tig, Bobby and Chibs who were watching him started chuckling quietly.

Juice rolled his eyes "I wanted a contact of your artist. From you tattoo shop. So I will have my new tattoo done by the artist at your tattoo shop"

"Okay" Happy wrote a number on the napkin and passed it to Juan Carlos.

"Oi, our kid is going to meet her finally" Chibs smirked and nudged Tig's shoulder.

"Yeah, right. It's gonna be interesting" Trager nodded watching Juice who was saving the phone number to his cell.

"What are you talking about, guys?" He looked at his brothers confused.

"Oh just go there and you will see" Bobby nodded.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Y/N opened her eyes and gasped, looking at the ceiling. This dream felt so real though Juice was gone so long ago. Seeing him was something to unsettle her and she sat up in her bed trying to calm down. Chibs growled in his sleep and woke up as he felt his wife move. He looked at her confused. "What happened lass?" "I just had a..." Y/N paused, she couldn't call it a nightmare. She was so glad to see Juice alive even if it was just a dream.

"Just had what?" Chibs sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

"A dream" She sighed leaning closer to Filip and closing her eyes. Y/N didn't know how to tell her old man about what she'd seen.

"What was it, lass? Don't make me worry, what happened?" Chibs seemed to really worry about his old lady at this point.

"I've had a dream about Juice" Y/N finally confessed. This boy was long gone and Chibs and her didn't talk about him ever. Both of them cared about Juice, both of them were struggling with grief of him being gone. Filip knew why it happened though but he never told his wife about it. "Oh, lass" Chibs sighed, holding her closer to himself "I know ye miss him. I miss him too. But it's long gone, try to calm down and have some sleep" Y/N only nodded slightly and laid down as soon as Filip let her go. She nestled to him as close as she could searching for comfort. Yet as she closed her eyes she saw Juice again. His bright smile, so careless and happy, his big brown eyes. The boy was something special, the way he looked, how much he loved his brothers. Y/N never knew what happened to him and it was something that haunted her even after several years.

Being comforted with Chibs' hug, Y/N closed her eyes falling asleep again without any dreams luckily.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Y/N was in the tatoo shop, her client just left and she was cleaning her workstation waiting for the next one to come. It was Juice and she had all evening booked for him as she usually did for Sons since their tattooes were always interesting yet complicated.

The door bell rang announcing Juan Carlos' arrival. Y/N turned to him and stood up to greet the client.

"Hello, Juice. How are you today?" She asked with a soft smile, admiring this handsome boy.

"Hi, Y/N" Otriz greeted, leaning against the counter, his big brown eyes fixed on her "I'm good, nice to see you"

The tension in the air was so thick. The two of them liked each other there was no doubt, but none of them dared to make a move. Y/N was a professional though so she forced herself to think about the new ink he wanted. They've been discussing it recently and she managed to draw several scetches for Juice to pick the one he liked.

"Let me know which one you want" She put several papers on the counter infront of Ortiz and he looked at those, whistling.

"Wow. I'd have all of those if I could" He laughed looking at the designes Y/N offered while she was picking paints and napkins she needed for work. Finally Juan Carlos took one of the papers and nodded "This one"

"Okay, Juice, but it's the last time I draw such a creepy shit for you" Y/N teased as the so to called face he wanted really was scary "Take your shirt off and get yourself comfortable"

"Okay. Sorry for that" The boy realy seemed to be sorry, but he didn't say anything else, instead he took his kutte off and placed it on the back of the chair, then his t-shirt was off with one move.

Y/N couldn't stop herself from looking at him, his body was perfect and oh god this boy was hot. She was so glad to have a legal reason to touch him.

Juice sat down and allowed Y/N to start her work. For awhile there was no other sound than a quiet buzz of the tattoo gun and she was enjoying the process. Y/N noticed that Juice was sometimes looking at her and they were so close to each other it could be easy to kiss him right now. The thought just didn't go no matter how she tried to make it to.

Suddenly, when she paused to add some more paint to her gun, she heard Juice's voice, a bit shaky and low. He seemed nervous.

"Will you... um... I wanted to ask you out, Y/N" Juan Carlos said never taking his eyes off of her.

Y/N raised her brows surprised as she turned to him. Oh god he was nervous, it was so obvious, she couldn't hide a smile forming on her lips. How could she reject him? Those big brown eyes were making her heart melt.

"I'd love to, Juan Carlos" Y/N nodded and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Y/N woke up trying to figure out what was going on with her. Why all of a sudden she started having dreams about Juice? Why did she have a crush on him in those dreams? They were quite close, that was true, but there was nothing between them ever. She always loved Chibs. And Juice passed away several years ago.

This second dream happened while Chibs was on the run and waking up from a dream like that in an empty house was not what Y/N needed. She turned the light on and took her phone. It was 4 am. Too early to call Filip.

"Fuck" Y/N sighed and got out of bed, she went to the kitchen and poured herself some wine to calm down. Taking a sip she sat on the couch trying to recall every detail of the dream she had.

She was someone else. Same name, but Y/N remembered looking at herself in the mirror in a dream and she looked different. In real life she had black hair, bob haircut, green eyes. In her dream it was a blong girl with long curly hair and her eyes were so bright blue it hardly could exist in reality.

The tattoo shop existed though, Happy was the owner and it was exactly the same in her dream, but Y/N knew both artists who worked there for last seven years, none of them looked like this girl. She never saw her, yet in her dream she was this girl. And in her dream Y/N had no idea about herself, like she didn't exist at all. Like she was seeing some parallel univers with her other life. It was weird, but couldn't harm her after all.

She downed her wine and it helped to ease her nerves a little so Y/N went back to bed. She decided to not tell Chibs about this dream, she didn't want him to doubt her, because no matter how much she missed Juice, here in her real life the only man Y/N loved was Filip.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Y/N was at home, small flat at the edge of the town. She was waiting for Juice to come, he promised, and he was late. He was never late, using any opportunity to see her since they've started dating. And now she was worried. Something happened and she knew it. Dialing his number again and again she was walking back and forth in her bedroom but he never answered her calls.

She finally headed to the living room and sat on the couch, turned the TV on and tried to distract herself with anything. Y/N didn't notice how she fell asleep, holding her phone tight in case Juice will call.

The knock on the door made her wake up. She ran to the door and opened it without a second thought. Y/N knew it was her boy, though there could be any kind of a stranger outside. It was Juice though. He seemed tired, several bruises on his face, but he was alive and he came to her.

"Boy, god, I was so worried" Y/N pulled him inside and closed the door, then cupped his face with her palms gently and kissed him. It made Ortiz hiss with pain, but he kissed her back eagerly.

"I'm sorry, girl. Had some shit to sort out" Juice apologized, holding her in his arms. "Listen, there's something I need to tell you and you won't like it"

"God. What is it?" Y/N pressed her forehead against his, trying to calm down. Kissing his lips again and again.

"We'll get arrested and sent to jail tomorrow" He sighed.

This was not what Y/N expected. She knew it could happen. Happy was in jail couple of times since they met. But for Juice it was so not fair. They've been together for only a month now and he would be taken away from her. And god only knows what could happen while he was inside.

"Fuck, boy, it's so unfair!" Y/N whimpered against his lips, her palms stroking his head.

"I know, girl. I'm sorry, I can't do anything about it" Juice sighed, kissing her back. He needed to feel more of her while he could.

"What did you do?" She asked, though she knew the answer.

"I can't tell, I'm sorry" Ortiz said exactly what she expected to hear. He hated that he couldn't tell her anything about the club and Y/N knew it "But it's not only me, most of the club will be arrested"

"God" She closed her eyes fighting back tears "For how long?"

"One or two years, girl. I don't know exactly" Juice confessed after a pause. Then he pulled away slightly, cupping her face and looking into her eyes. So blue, so bright. He adored her eyes as much as she loved his "I will understand if you want to break up, baby. I know this is not what you deserve, just let me stay with you for this last night"

"Silly boy. Do you really think I will abandone you because of this?" Y/N felt tears running down her face. "I won't go anywhere, Juice. There's nothing in this world that can make me leave you. I will be right here waiting for you to come back"

She needed him to know he would be missed and she will be waiting for him.

"Fuck, girl, I will miss you so damn much" Juice smiled faintly, kissing her again "Don't cry, please, It's breaking my heart. I didn't mean to hurt you, ever"

Y/N felt so lost and hurt. But at the same time she knew, he needed support now. Not the right time to be selfish and pity herself. She had to take care of her boy.

"You know what?" She said, tugging him towards the bedroom "I don't want any sorrow tonight. We still have some time together"

"You sure?" Juice seemed hesitant as he was led towards the bedroom. They've been dating for a month but never stepped on the next level.

"As much as I like to tease you, boy, I want you to know exactly what will be waiting for you when you come back" Y/N smiled gently and leaned closer, whispering right to his ear "Juan Carlos"

Every time she was whispering his name Juice felt his heart race, it made him want her so bad and he couldn't help it.

"Minx" Ortiz laughed, allowing her to lead him to bedroom.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Y/N woke up still feeling Juice's touch. His lips, his hands. His body. It was so wrong, she didn't know what to do. Her husband, the only man she ever loved in her life was sleeping next to her. It was always Chibs. But now she had dreams about Juice, with every new one she loved him more, there in the dream. In reality it only made her miss him and feel sorry about him.

She sighed and laid down, nestling next to Chibs who hugged her not even waking up. Protecting her was his instinct. Y/N felt comfortable and safe, as she usually felt next to her husband. She just kept asking herself what were those dreams about and couldn't find an answer.

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

[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

[bullet-prooflove]

Sweet Dreams: Juan 'Juice' Ortiz x Reader

Tagging: @darling-dread-queen @darqchilddaydreamz @withakindheartx @crazy4chickennuggets

It’s late when Juice gets in, too late for you to be awake. You’ve left the light on in the porch, the same way you always do every night. Everytime, he sees it, it’s like a beacon calling him home. He’s experienced so much joy here, so much laughter, his life has been brighter since you entered it and he wouldn’t give that up for anything.

He takes care to enter the house quietly, unlacing his boots before he toes out of them. He sets them alongside your smaller shoes, looking down at the row and imagining a third set, a tiny pair of velcros alongside yours. Maybe two or three of you want a larger family, hell, Juice would give you an entire football team if you asked for it.

The low lights are on in the kitchen. There’s a plate covered in foil on the work surface, he peels it back and smiles, finding the remains of a lasagne cooling. He’s too tired to eat, he’s spent the evening cleaning up the scene of Jarry’s murder with Jax and Kozik. Tig had told them to make it look dirty, it wasn’t a hard request especially after they’d discovered the envelope of cash tucked away in driver’s side door. Juice hopes that woman rots in hell, he doesn’t know what she did to Chibs but for him to unload an entire clip into her, it had to have been bad.

He puts the plate away in the fridge before stripping off his kutte and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs. He rubs his palm over his weary features, turning off the kitchen lights and heading towards the bedroom.

You’ve left the lamp on for him, or you’ve fallen asleep reading, he isn’t sure which. You’re curled up on your side, facing the window, your book resting on your pillow. He picks it up, reviewing the cover before he sets it down on the nightstand. You look so peaceful right now, he can’t help but smile. It soothes something deep inside his soul to see you so serene.

His fingertips smooth the hair away from your face, his lips brushing over your forehead. You barely stir, you’re too busy wrapped up in whatever you’re dreaming about. Good things he hopes, you deserve all the best of everything.

He strips down to his t-shirt and boxers, tossing his discarded clothes in the hamper before he slips under the sheets. His body curls around yours, his arm wrapping around your waist as he buries his face into the curve of your throat. His lips brush over your skin as he whispers.

“Sweet dreams baby.”

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#juice soa #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juan juice oriz #juan juice ortiz x reader #juan juice ortiz x you #juan ortiz #juan ortiz x reader #juan ortiz x you #juice x reader #juice x you

[elivanah-writes]

Happier -3-

pairing: Mob!James ‘Bucky’ Barnes x reader / Juan ‘Juice’ Ortiz x Reader

warnings: angst, talk of cheating, heatbreak

part 1 / part 2 / masterlist 

During the next few weeks y/n kept thinking about that little run-in at the hospital, she couldn’t get it out of her mind. And for some reason, she didn’t tell Bucky about it, she wasn’t sure how he’d react. Bucky never hide what he thought of Juice, in his eyes Juice was a coward, an asshole for doing what he did to her. Yes, he knows all about her feelings for him, that in a way she’d always love that idiot. The look in his eyes, how he looked at her baby bump, that look of pain wouldn’t leave her mind and every time it broke her heart again. She still loved him more than she thought, making her even more confused than that she already was, she was in love with Bucky and Juice. She didn’t know what to do, for once she had the feeling that she couldn’t talk to Bucky about it, she was hopeless. So she did the only thing she could think of, there was one other person that had always been there for her when she needed someone to listen or give her a new perspective on something. So after a quick phone call, she sneaked out of the house without someone seeing her, after spending so much time in this well-protected house she had found ways to sneak around without anybody seeing her. And the fact that Juice used to teach her how to hack into security systems helped her a lot too. 

There was one place she would always feel safe and at home, that wasn’t a person but a small lookout over Charming, if you even looked closely you could see even Teller-Morrow from there.

“You look like shit sweetheart.” a voice called out from behind her making her jump a bit in her spot.

“Yeah well, I feel like shit too mama, I don’t know what to do,” she said without looking in the woman’s direction.

“That’s why you called me baby. Tell me what’s on your mind, it’s clear to see that you’re struggling with something” she sighs as she sits down next to y/n on the bench under the tree. “There’s so much Gemma, I’m just so confused. I love James, I really do but seeing Juan at the hospital the other day, how he looked at me made me realize that I still love him too. I love that asshole so much even if he broke my heart. And the way he looked at me, his eyes were filled with pain Gemma. I thought he was happy, happier without me.” she breathed out.

“That’s some deep shit you’re in sweetheart,” she said while lighting a cigarette before continuing “I don’t think he is happy, he hides it just really well behind that pretty smile of his. But that isn’t going to help you, it’s in the past sweetheart. Don’t break your head over it, I love you and I loved you together with Juice but I do think it’s for the best if you forget about him. You have that James guy now and it seems like he’s taking really good care of you, you’re having a kid with him.” she says before getting up again. “ Want my advice sweetheart? Cover up that crow on your wrist and move out of Charming with your new guy.” 

Gemma started to walk back to her car until the words that slipt from y/n lips stopped her in her tracks. “Juice is the father, not James.”

“Oh, shit” she curses as she walks back to her and sits back down next to her.

The two of them sat down in silence looking over at Charming for a long time. Y/n could feel the phone in her pocket vibrate multiple times and she knew it would be Bucky calling her but she couldn’t get herself to pick up, she couldn’t talk to him right now.

“Does your guy know it’s not his?” Gemma asks, breaking the silence.

“Yeah he does, we weren’t together yet when I found out I was pregnant. He knows I still love that idiot too. He’s not happy about it but he understands.”

“But you didn’t tell him that you saw Juice at the hospital” she states more than asked.

“Yeah, he doesn’t. It’s clear as day what he thinks about Juice, I don’t want him to have the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea? Sweetheart, you’re still in love with your ex. He’s jealous and frankly, he has every right to be unless you forget about your feelings for Juice. But you should tell Juice about the baby, It changes a lot. just tell him and hear him out okay” Gemma said and then she was gone just as fast as she had come. 

As soon as she’s alone she starts to cry, Gemma was right, she couldn’t go on loving two guys at the same time. She needed to leave the past in the past. But that was harder done than said, it seemed like Juice wasn’t as happy as she first thought he was. But why? Why wasn’t he if he was the one to fuck up, he cheated on her?

In the end, she was just more confused about everything. She took a deep breath, wiped her tears that had fallen away, and got up. 

There was only one thing she could think of to do right now, she needed to talk to Bucky, confess to him what had happened because they had always said there would never be secrets between them. They could figure this out, they could take Gemma’s advice and just leave Charming together, start a new life somewhere far from old memories, old wounds.

The driveway was filled with cars when she arrived back home, ‘there must be something going on’ she thought to herself as she walked up the driveway and inside the house.

The first thing she heard was yelling, it was utter chaos in the house and nobody noticed her walking in. Bucky was screaming at the top of his lungs to his men, there was definitely something going on, she couldn’t clearly hear what he was saying but it was clear that he was pissed off about something. Bucky and his men sat in his office with the door slightly open so she could easily walk closer without anyone noticing. She rested her back against the wall right beside the door, it wasn’t that she wanted to eavesdrop but she wanted to know what was going on. Besides his office door was never closed, at least not for her, like he had said before, there would never be secrets between them. But what she heard made her doubt that statement, it seemed like that Bucky had a very big secret for her.

“You can all fucking make sure that you find her! I have worked my ass off to get her here, I fucking threatened that wanna be biker of hers so I’d get her for myself! I can’t let her slip from my fingers now!” he growled at his men. 

y/n didn’t know what she was hearing, Bucky threatened Juice? Why would he do that? Why was he talking about her like she was some possession, an object? She didn’t know she was crying until her sight was cloudy and everything got quiet around her and slipped down the wall until she sat down. 

“Doll? What’s wrong, why are you crying?” the familiar voice of Bucky sounded close by but she didn’t look up at him until she felt his fingers lifting her chin before he wiped her tears away. She wanted to ask so much but the words didn’t leave her lips, it was like she didn’t know how to speak. She could feel Bucky freeze in front of her in realization. “How much have you heard?” he almost whispered. 

“Enough. Why Bucky? Did you really threaten Juan? Do you even really love me?” she cries out suddenly finding her courage making him pull back a bit. 

“Come on, let’s go into the living room, I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he says as he pulls her to her feet and walks with her to the leather couches. 

But instead of sitting down at her usual spot next to him she moved around the coffee table and sat down in the armchair that was the furthest from where Bucky sat down. Bucky sighed when she didn’t sit down next to him but then again he couldn’t really blame her.

“To answer your question, yes I did threaten Juan, at least I made him a deal. Your precious sons of anarchy bikers wanted you safe and they needed help to do that so they came to me. I was the only one who could keep you safe from the dangers that you were in.” He started to explain

“What was the deal? What did you get from it?” 

“You, it got me you. My sister had a thing for your guy, Juan, so the deal was that if Juan slept with her and broke your heart while doing it then I would make sure you got every protection you needed, which wasn’t actually much,” he said with not much emotion in his voice. 

Y/n didn’t know what she heard, he was the reason Juice cheated on her?

“What? You forced Juice to cheat on me just because your sister had a stupid crush on him?!” she asked, raising her voice as she got up from the chair ready to leave.

“I can’t believe you! I thought you were different, that I could trust you. You even said that there weren’t any secrets between us. I thought our love was real!” she cried 

“I didn’t do it for my sister, I wanted what was best for you! I did this because I love you!” he said as he got up from the couch too, it was clear he was starting to get angry too.

“Oh, that’s oh so romantic James! You didn’t even know me back then so stop lying and tell me the truth!” she said rolling her eyes at him.

“I AM TELLING YOU THE TRUTH! I have had my eyes on you for years, ever since you still lived in Brooklyn. I have wanted you since then, loved you since then. Then you moved to Charming and met that filthy biker with that ridiculous name, watch you fall in love with him. You were slipping from my fingers. I had to do something to make you mine. So yeah I send that guy to make it seem like you were in danger so I could step in and play the savior.” he growled as he walked up to her and cornered her against the wall and looked her straight in the eye with both hands next to her face. The look in his eyes was something she had never seen before, she’d be lying if she said that it didn’t scare her. For the first time since she knew him, she was somewhat afraid of him. 

“You stalked me? How could you do this to me? I really loved you” she softly sobbed.

“Please don’t cry doll, we can move past this. Isn’t our love enough?” he softly smiled at her as he wiped a tear away. The change in him almost gave her a whiplash, he went from sweet to angry to sweet again in the manner of minutes.

“I don’t think we can. You don’t love me, your love is an obsession. Whenever we have even a small disagreement you just buy me stuff as a way to apologize, ever since I moved in we almost never do things together, you’re already working before breakfast. I just never saw how much you have changed me, this isn’t me James, you turned me into someone you wanted me to be, the stay-at-home mom that just plays the good housewife. What you did was wrong, I was happy with Juice and if you truly loved me you wouldn’t have messed with that!” she growled at him as her anger returned bigger than ever and pushed herself from between his arms.

Before he could respond she had ran out of the living room, the stairs and into their shared bedroom where she quickly packed a bag of her essentials before coming down again. Bucky wasn’t in the living room when she came down, he was in his office again typing away on his computer. 

“I’m leaving James, I can’t do this anymore. We’re done” she says not waiting for a response and walking out of the front door.

As soon as the front door falls shut behind her he screams out, letting his anger all out as he wipes his arm over his desk throwing everything on the floor. 

He wouldn’t leave it like this, he wasn’t letting her go that easily. He’d get her back one way or another, whatever it may take.

tags:

@drabbles-mc​ @ortizobsessed​ @pawfect-melody​ @vicmc624​ @believinghurts​

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x y/n #mobster bucky #juice ortiz #juice x you #juice ortiz x reader #bucky barns x y/n #Bucky angst #juan ortiz x reader #Juan Carlos Ortiz #Sebastian Stan #theo rossi #bucky barnes fic #bucky barns imagine #juice ortiz fanfiction #sons of anarchy #marvel #mob bucky #gemma teller #juice ortiz fic #juice x reader

[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

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 680

Gif NOT mine. (Found on Pinterest.)

If this gif is yours please let me know, so I can give you credit.

Gif credit goes to - Unknown.

Year posted - 2020

*If someone writes this PLEASE tag me! 💚 I might try extending this myself, but I'd love to see what you would write.

#Imagine #gif imagine #soa #soa x you #soa x reader #soa imagine #sons of anarchy x you #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy oneshot #sons of anarchy #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juan carlos #juan carlos imagine #juan carlos x reader #theo rossi #theo rossi imagine #i might write this

[drabbles-mc]

Lost & Found

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Inspired by Day 6 of the August Prompts and an Anon request: sentimental and Can I please request a juice x f!reader where they were friends since Queens (enter gawky platonic teens) then she ran into him after when she moved to Charming and she looks totally different now?

Warnings: language, angst (with a happy ending)

Word Count: 5.2k

A/N: Getting this out under the wire for the prompt a day but we got it done!  I feel like I got side-tracked from the original request because these characters decided to do their own thing. I still really like this story but down the road I might take another crack at this request to see if I can focus a little better 😂 But I love all the feelings in this and I hope you enjoy! (also i feel like there is more for these two i just don’t know what yet but i will be thinking about them for a while)

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

You got off the bus at what you assumed had to be the only bus stop in the entire town. Finding out that Juice had landed himself in a town called Charming seemed so deeply ironic to you. You hoped that maybe the place lived up to its name, though, that maybe he found a good spot for himself. Because the last time you saw him, getting out was the only thing that was on his mind—it didn’t seem to matter where. Having your best friend knocking on your window in the middle of the night, telling you that they were leaving and didn’t have time to explain why, certainly wasn’t the type of goodbye anyone wanted. But it was what you had.

That was years ago now, though. Not a day went by that you didn’t think about it. So often you were tempted to look him up, to try and find out where he had ended up, but you were always so afraid of what you might find. One night, after a few too many glasses of wine and too much time spent reminiscing, you finally decided that it was time to figure out what he had been up to. You hadn’t heard anything from him or about him in years, but he wasn’t the only kid in Queens who knew how to weave in and out of databases that he shouldn’t.

That’s when you came across the mugshots for his most recent arrest. It was a few years ago still, but it was proof of life at least. You were too busy looking at the photos to even think about seeing what the charges were. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head at the sight of him. Despite the fact that you were alone, you shook your head, whispering to yourself, “A mohawk? Head tattoos?” Even with the bruises on his face and the smear of blood under his nose in the picture, you could see that his eyes and the smug grin on his face were still very much the Juan Carlos you’d known all those years. You weren’t able to do much but stare for a few minutes, trying to reconcile it all.

Then you started to look for the real information. The police report came from Charming Police Department, which got another laugh out of you because what a name. Charges: drunk and disorderly, assault. Arresting officer: Deputy Chief David Hale. Pled guilty and served thirty days along with paying a fine. It was a little amusing to you to think about, because it wasn’t like Juice had ever been an overly confrontational kid when the two of you were growing up. He was a trouble maker, sure, but he wasn’t one to pick fights. Ten years was a long time and you wondered how much he had changed since you last saw him. You wondered if it was worth it to try and find out for yourself.

And now here you were, in sunny California. Of course he ended up in a town that wasn’t on the coast, somewhere close to a nice beach. The sun felt like it was pointed directly at you, a different kind of heat than the heaviness of the warmth of summer in Queens. Looking around, you noticed how quiet everything was. It was mellow—completely opposite from where you’d just come from. Adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, you set off, not exactly sure what you were looking for.

When you scrolled through some more of his rap sheet, you noticed that the repeated mention of his affiliation with the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club. It was hard to picture him rolling with an MC, but you supposed that anything was possible. After all, you’d made it across the country looking for him and no one would’ve been able to call that.

You walked down the street, taking in all of the buildings that you walked past. None of them looked like they’d been updated in the last few decades. It contributed to the small town feeling, you supposed. Charming, indeed. You just wanted somewhere to duck into to buy a bottle of water and maybe sit for a second so you could try to scrape together a plan. Perhaps you should’ve had that figured out before you got here, but it was all a bit of a whirlwind.

As you continued to get a little deeper into town, you saw a sign that listed out gas prices, and let out a sigh of relief. Almost every gas station sold snacks and drinks. You just had to hope that the spot was at least modern enough for that. You picked up your pace just slightly, wanting to get into a building that perhaps had AC, or a strong fan.

When you stepped onto the lot, you immediately noticed a few motorcycles parked by the gas pumps. Anyone could own and ride bikes, you knew that—there was no guarantee that those bikes belonged to anyone from the club that Juice was apparently in now. For all you knew, they were just a few people passing through town on their way to literally anywhere else. It’d make your life a lot easier if it was them, though. Although you had the feeling that you’d have to have some semblance of grace when asking about Juice, not just walking up to a group of strangers and asking about a member of their club. You knew enough to know that that wouldn’t come off great, per se. You’d figure it out on the fly. You were pretty good at making things up as you went along.

Pushing open the door, you heard the chime upon your entry, but more importantly you felt the drastic shift in temperature. You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the cool air that washed over you. You knew it was going to be toasty in California, but you couldn’t help thinking that being in a town that was essentially in the middle of nowhere made the heat all that much more intense.

You were zeroed in on the coolers at the back of the store, already ready to buy the largest bottle of water that they had. You were vaguely aware of the conversation that was happening at the register off to the side, but it wasn’t your main concern at the moment. You snagged a water bottle and a bag of chips, tempted to rip into both of them before paying but managing to stop yourself.

Looking up, finally seeing who the owners of the bikes were, you froze in your tracks. Not only were you faced with kuttes that said Sons of Anarchy written across the back of them with an impossible to miss reaper plastered across the leather, you also found yourself looking at the very reason you had made your way to Charming in the first place.

The water bottle slipped from between your fingers and hit the ground with a thud, causing all three of the men, and the young woman behind the counter, to turn and look at you. Two of the men seemed fairly uninterested, already about to return to whatever conversation they’d been in before, but Juice seemed just as frozen as you were.

“Holy shit,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You’d changed a lot over the years, but he still recognized you immediately—it could’ve been twenty years or more that passed but he’d always know you.

Ten years of silence and suddenly you found yourself unable to say anything to him. You crouched to pick up the bottle you’d just dropped, trying not to let it fall from your grasp a second time. Clearing your throat, you offered an uncertain smile, “Hey, Juan. It’s been a while, huh?”

That got the other two men to tune back in to whatever was unfolding in front of them. They looked back and forth between the two of you, waiting for one of you to do something. After a few agonizingly long seconds, the look of shock on Juice’s face shifted into a smile as he strode over to you, closing the distance in what felt like one large stride. He snaked his arms around you, managing to slip them between you and your backpack so he could pull you as close as he wanted to. You huffed out a soft laugh at the strength with which he hugged you, letting your arms drape around his neck. It was a bit hard to believe, but there you two were.

Pulling back, he couldn’t stop himself from constantly looking you up and down. The last time he saw you, you were sixteen. That certainly wasn’t the case anymore, and the years spent apart had been more than kind to you. It was hard to believe that it was really you. He knew that his appearance had changed a lot since he last saw you, but even so, it was hard to wrap his head around the fact that the woman who was standing in front of him was the same person he had been so connected to so long ago.

“I can’t fucking believe it,” he let out a surprised laugh, not quite wanting to let you go, “You’re…you’re here.”

You chuckled, nodding, “I’m here.”

Confusion morphed his expression as he tilted his head slightly, “Why…are you here?”

You nervously toyed with the bottle in your hands, “Well, I gave you ten years to call or come back home, then I figured maybe I should try and look for you.”

He sucked in a breath, the weight of your words hitting him instantly, “Right.”

“Wanna introduce us to your friend, there, Juicy?” the older of the other two gentlemen spoke, and you wondered how you hadn’t heard his accent when you first walked in and they were talking amongst themselves.

You were the only one who heard the whispered, “Fuck,” he let out before turning back to the men behind him, introducing you to them. You could see the nerves in him as he spoke, “And this is Chibs,” he gestured to the man who had just spoke, pausing before he nodded towards the other man, “And that’s Jax.”

You nodded, managing a small albeit unsure smile, “Nice to meet you.”

A smile that was a little too slick for your taste crossed Jax’s lips, “Welcome to Charming,” he turned his attention to Juice, his expression shifting slightly, “We’re gonna head back to the clubhouse. We’ll finish up later.”

Juice was afraid that his response was a little too eager, but he didn’t really care, “Alright, sounds good. See ya,” he turned back to you, holding out his hands to take what you were holding, “I can get that for you.”

You shook your head, laughing softly, “Juan, I haven’t seen you in how long now? I’m not gonna show up and make you pay for my snacks.”

“C’mon,” he insisted, a joking lilt to his voice despite the emotions in his eyes, “I owe you.”

You were tempted to say that what he owed you was an explanation. But you didn’t want to come out swinging like that. Instead, you gave in, handing over the two items that you had. You tried not to think too much about the way that the woman behind the counter was watching the two of you with such interest. You stuck out enough because you were a new face, but all the tension in the air between you and Juice didn’t do anything at all to help you blend in.

By the time the two of you stepped back outside again, you’d downed almost half of your bottle of water. Juice scanned the parking lot for a moment before realizing that his bike was the only thing left there. Turning back to you, you could see the confusion on his face all over again.

“How’d you get here?”

You chuckled, “Taxi, plane, bus. In that order.”

“Jesus Christ,” he shook his head with a laugh, “You don’t have a car?”

You shrugged, tearing into your bag of chips, “I think we can safely say that there wasn’t a lot about this trip that I thought through very much, alright?” you laughed.

He went back and forth between looking at you, and staring down at his boots as he walked, “How did you…how did you find me?”

Tossing a chip into your mouth, you shot him a look of disbelief, “I can’t believe you just asked me that,” you shook your head, “Like you’re the only one who knows how to look someone up.”

He shook his head, smiling, “Didn’t think you would ever use your powers for evil like that.”

“Evil?” you feigned offense as you rested your hand over your heart, “I would never. Honestly, evil would be if I erased the record for the mugshot I got your location off of,” you paused to soak in the surprised look on his face, “Which I didn’t, by the way. Your rap sheet is still as impressively long as ever.”

He was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that it was really you, that you were really there next to him, in Charming of all places. You crossed the entire country on a whim after so many years and he couldn’t quite process the weight of that.

The two of you lingered by his bike, both asking the other questions that weren’t really the ones you wanted to be asking, but knowing that you had to lay some groundwork before asking the more hard-hitting ones. You were still trying to figure out how he ended up in an outlaw motorcycle club. That fact still blew your mind even though the reality of it was staring you so plainly in the face.

“I’m guessing you don’t really have plans then, huh?” he asked as he watched you toss your trash into the garbage can next to the gas pump  

You chuckled, shaking your head, “No, I don’t. Honestly, I thought it was gonna take a lot longer to find you. Didn’t bank on you being the first person I saw when I got here.”

“Right,” even though there was so much to unpack between you, he couldn’t not smile a little bit every time he looked at you.

“I know you’ve got shit to do, especially with,” you gestured to his bike, “you know. So I won’t…I won’t keep you,” you didn’t know where else you would go or what else you would do, but you hated feeling like you were holding him up.

“You should come to the clubhouse,” he blurted out.

“What?”

“The clubhouse,” he sounded a bit more in control of his words now, “it’s like, home base for the MC. You should come hang out.”

“You sure? I know they don’t know me—”

“I know you,” he cut you off, sincerity dripping from the three little words.

You found yourself smiling and nodding in agreement, “Okay, then,” you paused, “You’re not gonna make me walk, right?”

He shook his head as he handed you his helmet, “No, I won’t. It’s a short ride,” he looked at you for a moment, “You ever ridden?”

You shrugged, a mischievous grin on your face as you clipped the helmet on, “Once or twice, yea.”

He laughed as he swung his leg over his bike, “We've got a lot of catching up to do.”

Saying you felt out of your element in the clubhouse would’ve been a grave understatement. You felt the eyes on you when you and Juice walked in together and there was quite the range of emotions written on the faces of people present. Most people looked confused, a little intrigued. You didn’t miss the couple of dirty looks from a few of the women that were there and you tried not to give it too much thought. Juice had reassured you when he parked the bike outside that you being there and hanging out wasn’t going to be a problem. And, while that might have been true, even if you weren’t a problem, you certainly felt like a spectacle.

“Jax said that you might be bringing a friend,” an older man came over, a grin on his face as he looked at you.

Juice huffed, shaking his head, “Tig, come on.”

He held his hands out in an attempt to seem innocent, “What? Just wanted to come and introduce myself.”

Jax was chuckling as he came over, inserting himself into the conversation, “Don’t mind him—he doesn’t get out much. Plus,” he nodded to Juice, “not like this guy gets many visitors.”

“Yea,” Tig was looking more at Juice than you, considering that Juice was the one giving him a dirty look, “I’m curious, sue me.”

For the sake of curbing some of the curiosity that was quickly taking over the air of the clubhouse, you introduced yourself to Tig, doing it just loud enough so that anyone who was eavesdropping, and people most definitely were, wouldn’t have to come and ask you and you wouldn’t have to repeat yourself twenty times over.

“How do you two kids know each other?” the glint in Tig’s eyes let you know that this man was definitely an interesting one.

“Old friends,” you shrugged, trying to play it as casually as possible, “grew up together in Queens.” You didn’t say it, but all you could think was that that was so long ago now.

The seconds of silence that followed left you feeling like perhaps you had said the wrong thing. You glanced over at Juice, hoping that the look on his face would give you some kind of inclination of what to say or do next, but it didn’t. His expression was one that you hadn’t ever seen on him before, and you tried not to think too much about it as you continued to fumble your way through the conversation at hand.

“I’d ask how you know Juice, but the matching outfits kind of speak for themselves,” you smiled, letting them know that the comment was in jest.

“It’s actually pretty embarrassing,” Tig said with a smile, “We didn’t plan this. We all just showed up like this.”

You laughed, feeling a little more at-ease, just a tiny bit less like you were in the hot seat, “Hate it when that happens.”

The clubhouse door swung open, an angry-looking man with gray hair storming through. He didn’t really take the time to look at who was or wasn’t in the room, dead-set on getting to wherever he was heading.

“Church,” he barked, “Now.”

Glancing around at the rest of the men in the room, you noticed all of them letting out various sighs, some of them shaking their heads as they started making their way towards the same doors that the other man had just walked through. None of them said anything to you, or even to each other, as they walked away.

Juice lingered back for a moment, watching you watch everything unfold, “Sorry,” he motioned towards the doors, “I gotta…”

“Yea,” you shrugged, not sure what else you were supposed to do or say in the current circumstances, “do what you gotta do. I’ll hang out till you’re done.”

His lips lifted into a weak smile, “Alright.”

“Juice!” the man from before yelled out to him, “Let’s go!”

Juice didn’t say anything as he did something resembling a jog over to the room all of them had gone into. You caught a glimpse of all of them sitting down around a table before Juice shut the doors behind him. Your lips twitched in thought as you took a seat at the bar, not sure what you were supposed to be doing with yourself at this point. The clubhouse felt so empty now. You glanced around, trying to get a better look at everything now that a lot of the people were gone.

You saw the wall covered in mugshots and you couldn’t help but to get up and walk over towards it. You sort of recognized some of the men as ones who had just been in the room with you. Others you assumed weren’t around anymore for one reason or another. Some of the photos were old, the people in them were men now but they were still basically boys when the pictures were taken. It raised a lot more questions than it answered for you. You wondered how Juice got wrapped up in all of this. You wondered if there was a right way to ask him that.

You didn’t keep track of how much time they all spent behind the closed doors. It felt like an insanely long time, but you also knew that part of that feeling was due to the fact that you didn’t have anyone to talk to or much of anything to do. You weren’t going to try and insert yourself into anyone’s conversation, so you kept yourself seated at the bar.

When the doors opened up again, you tried not to look to eager as you turned around to watch everyone walk out. A few of them were already heading for the door to leave, not looking overly thrilled with whatever had been said and done inside the other room. You watched everyone intently as they went.

Juice came right back over to you, his face brightening considerably as he did. He offered an apologetic smile, “Sorry about all that.”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize—I definitely came and crashed in on your whole thing here.”

“I’m glad you did.”

You waited for a moment to see if he was going to say anything else. When he didn’t, you asked, “What’re you guys up to now?”

He shook his head, “Nothing, really. Rest of the day is pretty quiet.”

You wanted to ask him if the two of you could go somewhere, anywhere else to talk. You had so many questions and things you wanted to talk to him about but you didn’t want to do it in front of a crowd. A crowd of strangers, at that. But you didn’t know how to say that. It all felt so precarious now because you were very aware of the fact that you didn’t really know him anymore. Sure, some things about him probably hadn’t changed too much, and the same could be said for you, but the Juan Carlos you knew at sixteen in Queens wouldn’t have been a part of whatever all of this was. You didn’t know if you were more sad or angry about that.

“Can we, you know, talk?” you hoped your face would say everything that your words hadn’t.

He studied the look on your face for a moment before nodding, “Oh, uh, yea. Sure. If you wanna, um, if you wanna leave your stuff here in my dorm we can go for a ride and get coffee or something to eat or whatever.”

You looked at him confused, “You live here?”

He chuckled, “No, no. I just have like, a spare room I can crash in if I want.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “Got it.”

You followed him back to where his, and apparently a lot of other guys' dorms were. Dorm was certainly a fitting word for it. Juice's was so organized, although you couldn’t say that you were too surprised by that fact. The clutter and scattered clothes in your room used to drive him nuts.

Apparently you had been standing there silently looking around for just a bit too long. Juice stepped in front of you, a concerned look on his face, “You good?” he saw the way you were suddenly white-knuckled on your bag.

You locked eyes with him, the reality of what the last couple of days had been, what happened ten years ago and all the years since, it all came slamming through your chest as you stood there looking at the random Harley posters on his wall, “How the fuck did this happen, Juan?”

His eyes widened. You hadn’t yelled at him, but the tone you used wasn’t one that he had ever heard from you before. He supposed that as kids the stakes were never quite high enough to warrant it, “Wh-what?”

“This!” you gestured desperately to the room around him, to his kutte, pausing for a moment before motioning back and forth between the two of you, “What…” you shook your head, not really knowing how you wanted to finish that sentence.

His lips morphed into a frown, the sadness in his features so saturated that looking at him made you feel like someone had dropped yet another weight on your chest. He looked like a dog that’d been kicked enough to know when another blow was coming. And you didn’t mean to come off so frustrated, but you thought that at this point what the fuck was a perfectly fair question.

You took a shuddered breath, shaking your head before dropping your face into your hands, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that. But just…ten years, Juan? And nothing? Then I come and see all of this and you’re just…so not fazed I don’t…”

He struggled to find the words, “I know there’s nothing I can say that is going to make all that time be okay. But this,” he repeated your gestures from before, “is my life now. I know it’s not like home but it’s what I have. And you’re here and, fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Then why didn’t you call?”

His gaze dropped to the floor again, “For a while, I couldn’t. But then…”

“Then what?” you stepped in closer to him, “You were my best friend, and you just fucking left. Ten years, and not even some weird postcard with no return address so I know you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere?” you really hadn’t felt angry about it in a long time, most days when you thought about it you were just wistful or sad. But being here, seeing him, you had a decade of emotions to convey in one conversation and anger was definitely one of them.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just, what was I supposed to say?”

“The truth?” you shook your head, “All that time, I thought that we didn’t keep things from each other. But then you just showed up to leave. And it almost felt like I didn’t know you at all but I couldn’t…I couldn’t believe that. I couldn’t believe that I didn’t know my best friend. And now—”

“You did know me,” he cut you off.

“Did I?”

“You did,” there was no room for argument in his tone, “The trouble I got in had nothing to do with you.”

“But you still left.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that for a moment. The two of you stood there, almost chest to chest as the words hung in the air between you. Part of you wanted to turn and run out the door, but an even larger part of you wanted to just collapse against him and cry. You had no idea how you were supposed to be working through all of this. You hadn’t thought this part through.

“What made you come find me?” he asked.

The question caught you off-guard. You shrugged, trying to play it off, “I got sick of not knowing where you were or how you were doing.”

“You’re still a bad liar,” he said, the end of his lip curling up just enough for you to see it.

It wasn’t a total lie, but even with all the time apart he still knew how to read you, how to tell when you weren’t telling the full truth. You huffed, shaking your head, “I just. I didn’t feel like I was home anymore. Life was fine, you know? Had a job and friends and whatever. But I started feeling so out of place. I tried to wait it out, see if the feeling would go away, but it didn’t. And I thought about you, about how you took off. I wondered if you ever actually settled somewhere. So I looked you up. And I figured if I can’t find what I’m looking for in a town called Charming, then I might just be a lost cause.”

He laughed softly, “It’s not Queens.”

“Fucking tell me about it.”

“You think this is what you were looking for?” he sounded sad, but still just a little bit hopeful.

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

He could see it in your posture that you were fighting to hold it together. He looped his arms underneath yours and pulled you against him in a hug. The thought of fighting it crossed your mind for the briefest of moments, but you were too busy falling into him to follow through on it.

You were fighting to keep your voice from cracking, “You can’t do that to me again.”

He squeezed you a little tighter, “I know,” he sighed, letting his eyes shut, “I’m so fucking glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” you mumbled against his chest, “Because I really didn’t want to keep going from town to town looking for you.”

He chuckled, his hand running up and down your back, “Would you have, though? Kept looking for me?”

Pulling back, you looked up at him and nodded, “Yea. I already crossed the country for you. What’s a few more miles?”

He smiled, reaching up to thumb the couple of stray tears on your face, “I know it’s not much here, I know it’s a lot different than back home, but if you can, you should stay. At least, at least for a little while.”

“I’ve got no other pressing plans, so I guess I could stay for a bit. Besides,” you tried to get your emotions back in check after your little outburst, “you apparently have a lot to fill me in on. Like, how all of this happened,” you tapped on the Redwood Original flashes on his kutte.

He looked just a little bit sheepish, “It’s a long story.”

“I don’t doubt that,” you paused, seeing the shift in his expression, “What?”

He shook his head, “No. Nothing. I just,” his eyes darted to the floor and then back up to yours, “I know you’re upset, and you should be. And I know things are different and weird but the fact that you’re really here?” he let out a soft laugh, “That’s wild. I’ve thought about you so much and now you’re really here and I just,” he gave your shoulders a light squeeze, “I can’t believe it.”

“I’m just,” you leaned against him again, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

One hand came up to cradle the back of your head, his other resting between your shoulder blades to keep you pressed against him. He placed a soft kiss on the side of your head, relief flooding through him when he felt you let out a deep breath, easing into him a little more.

“Do you still wanna get coffee?” he asked, and you could hear the humor in his voice.

You laughed, “Yea,” you took a step back, “we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa #soa imagine #juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #august prompts #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

[filipfuckingtelford]

Just before the shadows fall. Part 3

I'm not sure if it's a Chibs x Reader or Juice x Reader or both. Mystical fanfic. 18+ ONLY

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Y/N haven't seen Juice for several days and didn't hear from him either. It made her sick with anxiety, if everything was fine he would've been calling her or texting her all the time like he usually did. She knew guys were visiting some motorbike show and was trying to calm down by telling herself that Ortiz just was busy and had no chance to contact her, but she saw Happy that morning and he said they came back yesterday. Y/N tried to call her boy several times but he never picked up neither did he return the call. Worried, she didn't know what to do.

Juice promised her to think about talking to one of his brothers before he will decide what to tell Roosevelt, but Y/N didn't know what had Ortiz decided after all. She could only hope he didn't do anything stupid. Last time when she saw him Juice was nervous and lost, he hardly could think straight.

Finally when the last client left and Juice still didn't call back, Y/N headed to the clubhouse. She never been there before, Happy made it clear, he didn't want her to be too close to the MC. But now she couldn't care lerss, she had to find out what happened to Juice. If the only way was to pay Sons a visit, so be it.

Y/N parked her car next to the car service and looked around. She spotted Chibs in the garage and took a deep breath. Was it a good decision to talk to him about Juan Carlos? Will he really help? She didn't know this man too good, he only visited for a tattoo once, but Juice said the Scotsman was always good to him. If Juice didn't want to talk to his brother it could probably help if Y/N will.

She got out of her car and was about to come up to Chibs who still didn't notice her, but she suddenly felt someone gripping her arm and stopped, stunned with fear.

"What are you doing here?" Juice whispered and Y/N turned to him. She noticed bruises on his face and frowned.

"I was worried, boy, I've tryied to call you several times" She explained and tried to hug him, but Juice pulled away.

"Leave. I don't want to see you here... or see you at all" Juice was trying to sound like he didn't care, but Y/N saw the pain and fear in his eyes.

"What are you talking about, Juan Carlos? If you want to dump me at least have courage to explain why!" She felt her heart squeezing with pain, but was trying to hold back her tears.

"Fine. But not here" Juice sighed after couple of moments and headed towards the passenger's door.

Y/N noticed he was visibly limping on his way but decided to wait untill they get to her place before she will ask all the questions she had for Ortiz.

The drive was silent, neither Y/N nor Juice said a word on the way to her house. She wanted to touch him, hold his hand, but he was detached and tensed, so she decided to give him some space.

When the door behind them closed however Y/N turned to Juice and looked into his eyes, her palms on his cheeks. He tried to pull away again, but she didn't allow him to.

"Boy, please. Tell me what's going on" She pleaded, her thumbs carefully rubbing his skin.

"We need to break up" Juice whispered through his teeth trying to break the eye contact.

"Why?" Y/N was still cupping his face forcing Ortiz to look at her.

"It's getting too dangerous to be around the club. I don't want you to be hurt" He sighed and took her palms away from his face. "Just let me leave, okay? Don't make it even more complicated"

"If that's the only reason, Juan Carlos, I'm not leaving you. I don't care how dangerous it can be, I need you" Y/N felt dizzy, the only thought of loosing him made her heart break.

"Fuck, do you need to be so stubborn?" Juice rolled his eyes, faint smile forming on his lips.

"If you are stupid enough to think I will leave you so easily I have to be stubborn, boy" Y/N laughed and pulled him closer to herself to kiss him.

But Juice winced with pain and almost lost balance. He had to support himself against the wall. "Sorry... my leg" He explained.

"Fuck. What happened, Juan Carlos? You need to tell me everything" Y/N supported him and helped him to sit down on the couch "And what about Roosevelt? Did you talk to your brothers?"

"I... didn't" Juice let out a heavy sigh not looking at Y/N again. He seemed to feel guilty and even more lost than before.

"What did you tell Roosevelt then?" She still couldn't believe Juice could give his club out.

"I agreed to cooperate" The answer was almost inaudible, Juice was looking down at his palms.

"Fuck, boy! You have to talk to someone before it's too late, I'm sure something can be done, there's a way to get around the rules" Y/N sat down next to him and took his hand gently.

"It is too late, girl" After several moments of silence Juice turned to her, tears in his eyes were breaking her heart "I killed Miles today"

Y/N didn't know what to say, staring at Juice, still holding his hand. But he continued, now when he knew she won't leave him, he couldn't stop. As if he knew Y/N was the only person he could trust now, and needed to let it all out. Juice told her about the deal with Roosevelt, about the cocaine he took from the club and how Miles saw him when Ortiz was trying to bring the pack back to the storage.

Y/N wasn't even moving at first, but the more Juice was telling her, the closer she leaned to him, wrapping her arms around his body, stroking his head with her palm to ease his pain. Finally he fell silent, hiding his face on her chest, tears soaking her shirt. The helplessness and hopelessness were the only feelings both in Y/N's and Juice's soul, but they were holding each other tight, her trying to comfort him and him trying to hide from the reality in her embrace.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Y/N sat up in her bed and gasped, trying to shake the feeling off of her. This dream was even more disturbing than the previous one. She felt sorrow and panic as if it was all real. She was still hearing every word Juice told her in the dream and it was tearing her heart apart. Poor boy, he was so scared, the weight of guilt so heavy on his shoulders. He was so confused, he didn't know what to do and what he'd done was terrifiying.

Chibs growled as he was waking up and looked at Y/N worried. He could see something was wrong with his wife but had no idea what could it be.

"Lass, what happened?" He said, his voice raspy, as Chibs carefully pulled her towards him and made her lay down.

"Just a nightmare, Filip, everything's fine" Y/N whispered, wrapping her arms around his waist, hiding her face on his chest. Her man was here with her, she loved him so much, she loved him since she was so young and they've been together for five years now. But now all she could think about was Juice and it was slowly driving her insane.

"Sleep, lass. It's only a dream, it can't hurt ye. I'm here, love, don't worry. Close yer eyes and have rest" Chibs was murmuring quietly stroking her hair and finally he fell asleep again.

Y/N carefully pulled away from him and went to the bathroom. She turned the water on, closed the door and leaned against it with her back, covering her lips with her palms to muffle her sobs, tears falling down uncontrollably as she dropped on the floor. She needed to let it all out now while no one could see her.

Sitting on the floor, Y/N was crying, wiping tears from her face with the back of her palms, it was hard to breath, hopelessness and despair overwhelming her every time she heard Juice's voice in her head again and again.

"What are you doing to me, why?" Y/N sobbed, trying to stop crying, to calm down. There was no answer of course, only darkness around.

She didn't know how long was she sitting fhere like this before the dream finally let her go, when the voice finally fell silent. Y/N stood up, heavily, pressed her palms against the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. In the dim light of the street lamp reaching through the window she saw the blue eyes and blond curly hair. She gasped and closed her eyes in fear. It couldn't be true, it was all just her imagination, nothing more. Y/N turned the light on and opened her eyes. There in the mirror was only her face, red swollen eyes, looking tired at her own reflection.

Y/N washed her face, allowing cold water to calm her down a little and went back to bed. She needed to pretend everything was fine tomorrow when Chibs would wake up. Before she understands why she kept seeing those dreams, there was no need to tell anyone.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

There was only one answer for this question but Y/N kept pushing it away. It couldn't be true. For the last several days since Juice told her about Miles, the drugs, feds, she was worried all the time. If he wasn't calling her or texting her in couple of hourse the panic was consuming her. But Juice usually was in touch all the time. Her being the only one who knew his secrets made him attached even more to her.

"Where are you, boy?" Y/N texted Juice for the tenth time that night, but had no reply. She tried to call him, but got no answer. They've been talking in the afternood and he said Clay wanted to talk to him. Sounded worried. What if, she thought, the club found out about all this shit with Roosevelt? What would they do to her boy?

But not tonight. It's been good eight hours since she heard his voice. She laid down on the couch and was staring at the ceiling blindly. There was nothing she could do. They agreed that it would be better to keep their relationships in secret. Well Juice insisted and Y/N didn't want to give him more reasons to worry. So she couldn't go to the clubhouse again. All she really could do was to wait.

When she opened her eyes it was morning and someone was knocking on the door persistently. Y/N stormed to the door and opened it not bothering to check who there was.

Juice was there, looking tired. He entered the room and closed the door, then turned to Y/N who was looking at him silent, unable to say a word.

All she could see was the big bruising on his neck and the new patch on his kutte. She shook her head and shrank back when Juice tried to hug her. Y/N could not believe what she saw. She knew what he did and knew why he did it, but it wasn't helping.

"Fuck, girl, I'm so sorry" Juice whispered, looking at her guilt in his eyes.

"How could you..." Y/N pressed her palm against her lips trying to hold back tears.

"I... It was too much" Juice looked down. He didn't know what to do.

"How could you think of leaving me, Juan Carlos?" She sobbed. Y/N was ready to support him, to comfort him, but this was breaking her heart.

"Don't leave me, boy. Please, I won't make it without you" She begged, tears streaming down her face.

"I'm sorry... Y/N I was stupid, I know, I won't ever try to do this again. I promise. I'm lucky that it didn't work" Juice took her palm and pulled her towards himself.

"I won't... I just... Clay was telling me how proud he was, how I was such a worthy brother, how I proved my loyalty... He gave me this patch" Juice was explaining, pulling her to bedroom, where they sat down on bed still holding each other "And I... Y/N I betrayed them! I love them so much, it's all I have, this club and you. And I betrayed them out of fear to lose them. I couldn't bare the weight of this guilt especially after Clay told me all those things"

He was crying as well and Y/N raised her gaze at him, touching his cheek with her fingers. "You won't lose them, boy. And I can't lose you. Please, Juan Carlos... I love you"

It was the first time she said it and the moment was absolutely wrong but she didn't care. Y/N needed him to know. Maybe it would stop Juice from doing anything stupid again.

"I love you too, girl. I'm sorry, I promise I won't try to do it again" Juice sighed and cupped her face with his palms as gently as he could before he leaned closer to her and kissed her.

Kissing him back Y/N took his kutte off and laid it carefully on the bed. Then pulled away only to get rid of his t-shirt. Her palms sliding down his chest as she pressed her lips against his again. Soft moan escaping her throat.

There was no joy left for two of them, but they still had each other and needed to feel it now. Juice was undoing her shirt while his lips were traveling down her neck, as soft and gentle as he could.

It was all slow and tender, the way they were touching each other, loving each other, cherishing every moment they had.

⊹──⊱✠⊰──⊹

Y/N woke up but didn't want to open her eyes. It was too much! She was afraid to fall asleep every night, those dreams now coming too often. It's been only two days since she had a previous one and now this. What was worse, Chibs seemed to notice something was wrong with her and Y/N had no time between those dreams to put herself together.

"Lass, wake up, it's almost noon" She heard Chibs calling her quietly and groaned, pretending to be sleeping. She just wasn't ready to face him right now.

"Lass, please. What's going on?" Chibs sat down next to her and put his arm on her shoulder. Of course she couldn't trick him, he knew her better than anyone else.

"I couldn't sleep and now I feel exhausted" Y/N explained never opening her eyes.

"Okay, but have breakfast and then you can get more sleep" Filip leaned down and kissed her cheek gently.

"I'm not hungry" Y/N sighed. For the first time in her life she wanted Chibs to just go.

"I made breakfast for us. Myself. Do you really want to miss it?" Chibs smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N sighed and turned to him. He didn't deserve it, to be treated this way. Chibs loved his wife with everything he had in him and she knew it. "Okay, that's not fair, you know I can't miss it" She laughed gently and reached out to brush her palm against his cheek.

"Good. Let's go lass. I promise I will leave you alone after you have breakfast" Chibs caught her palm and pressed his lips against her soft skin.

"No way. You will be laying next to me being my pillow to hug" Y/N gave him a soft smile.

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

[mycupoffanfiction]

Distracted

Juice x Reader

Summary: Juice wants to make cookies for his roommate who usually makes him cookies, but he’s a bit out of his depth, especially when he’s falling hard for her.

Warnings: Just lots of fluff and kissing.

Word count: Approx 1200

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves, I hope you enjoy some soft Juice 💖 I’ve had a little anon request for this waiting for me to write for a little while, so I hope you enjoy it anon! 💖

Walking through the apartment you shared with your best friend Juice, you wandered into the kitchen to find him staring long and hard at a recipe he had printed out. “What are you up to, Juicy?” You asked softly, though it startled Juice and he fumbled with the bowl of flour he held in his hands, trying hard not to drop it before slamming it onto the kitchen counter with a breath of relief passing through his lips.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, Juice.” You giggled as you approached, watching as Juice smiled at you over his shoulder and you almost melted at the way he looked at you. Of course, you had always had a thing for Juice, he was sweet, funny, protective and very handsome, but your feelings for him had blossomed into something more than just a little crush since you moved in together and became roommates.

“It’s all good, sweetheart.” He chuckled and you had to try hard not to show the little soft, flustered smile on your lips from the name he used for you. “I was just trying to bake some cookies like you do but, man, I got no idea what the hell I’m doing.” He laughed, shoulders dropping slightly as he sighed. “Want some help?” You asked, absentmindedly touching his arm and leaning against him without even thinking, the biker smiling sweetly down at you, admiring the way you looked against him. “Yeah, some help would be great, sweetheart. Then I can make you cookies too.” He grinned, winking at you, his smile widening when you giggled, looking away from him for a second.

Suddenly, you realised how close you had gotten to Juice and you quickly let go of his arm and stepped away from him, pausing before occupying yourself with washing your hands at the sink. Juice watched you, barely able to pull his eyes away from you, hoping you’d lean on him again and he’d get to feel your sweet touch again too. Sometimes, spending the evening in and playing video games together or watching something on the TV together had brought you two closer and left you leaning against him, but as soon as you realised what you were doing, you always pulled away and Juice was always a bit too shy to encourage you to stay.

“Okay, let’s make some cookies.” You beamed at him as you dried off your hands, taking a couple of steps over to him and standing at his side. Within minutes, Juice felt like he might have found heaven. The kitchen was warm, your soft music playing in the background as you talked him through the steps of making the cookie batter, but Juice was mostly distracted by the fact that you were casually leaning back against his chest as you explained something and he felt a little ashamed that he was paying more attention to how much he liked you against him than your probably very well explained help.

“What do I do again?” He asked, a little confused as you stepped away from him and slid the packet of sugar across the counter to him. With a little giggle, you playfully rolled your eyes and lifted the packet of sugar. “You need to weigh some of this out.” You told him, the biker nodding and taking it from you before trying his best to concentrate on baking and not looking at you.

How on earth had he managed to live with you for so long without asking you out? It was truly baffling how much he had managed to restrain himself from admitting any feelings when nearly every time he was around you, Juice felt like he was suddenly on cloud nine.

It wasn’t long before the pair of you had something that resembled cookie dough and Juice grinned at you triumphantly as he slid the tray of cookies into the oven and set the timer, his gaze falling onto you as you cleared away some of the bowls and baking supplies you had used. He wasn’t even thinking when he got closer to you and you turned around with the bag of flour in your hands, smacking into his chest with a huge puff of flour going up between you both, sending you both into giggles when you realised what had happened.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He chuckled, watching as you reached up to wipe the flour away from his chin, his smile and chuckles uncontrollable. “I was just trying to-.” Juice stopped himself, abruptly snapping his mouth shut because he had almost admitted that he had been about to hug you from behind. “What were you trying to do, Juan?” You asked sweetly, the biker preoccupying himself with wiping flour off your face. Hearing you say his name like that melted him and Juice wanted nothing more than to make you his already, but he had no idea if you liked him the way he liked you.

“I was,” He paused, the words catching in his throat as he watched you lean into his chest, your hands gently wiping flour off his shirt. “Mm?” you hummed softly, prompting him to continue as you trailed your hands over his shoulders and before you could stop yourself, you found yourself with your hands linked at the nape of his neck, Juice’s hands naturally falling to your waist as he watched you, eyes warm and sweet and full of love and adoration for you.

“I love you.” Juice blurted out, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “God, I love you so much.” He whispered, a streak of confidence overtaking him as he leaned in to kiss you. His lips captured yours in a sweet, yet tentative kiss and he almost couldn’t believe it when you kissed him back, leaning against him even more, your lips gently moving against his as you deepened the kiss, both of you relaxing into it. “I love you too.” You murmured softly between kisses, his arms embracing you against his chest, heart racing and the feeling of butterflies and warmth filling him because Juice had only dreamed of you saying those words to him, dreamed of you feeling that way too and suddenly it was reality and even sweeter than he had imagined.

He kissed you breathless, gentle touches, tender and sweet as you poured your emotions into the kiss, unsaid feelings rising to the surface as you leaned into him, Juice’s mind awash with thoughts of love, of a feeling that felt almost indescribable, as if he had found his home with you.

The timer went off, pulling you both out of the loving moment, though the hazy, soft feeling that seemed to consume you both didn’t lift away and Juice quickly turned the oven off before pulling the cookies out and setting them on the side. It didn’t matter how good they smelled, how tempting they were, the only thing on his mind was you.

“Can I kiss you again, sweetheart?” He asked softly as his hands returned to your waist, pulling you against him and you hummed with a dreamy little smile on your lips. “Please, I don’t want this to end.” You whispered, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, Juice chuckling softly against you as he carefully lifted you in his arms, carrying you off into the living room, ready to spend the rest of the day with you in his arms, relishing in every little kiss, every tender touch, each whisper of sweet words against lips. “I don’t want it to end either, sweetheart.”

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