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drakoneve · 7 months

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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.

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months

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Happy Monday! Please could I have “I want to give you all the things you never had” with Juice Ortiz? Thanks!

Ties in to upcoming fic This Is The Year

Juice knows that you can’t marry him, no matter how much you may want to. After that night at the botanical gardens, he tucks the ring away in his sock drawer because he hopes that one day things will change.

In the meantime, he strives to give you all the things you never had throughout the duration of your previous relationship, the one that scarred you so badly you’d end up running until you hit Charming.

Support, security, love.

He encourages you to enter your artwork into a showing at the local gallery, you win second prize, and the piece goes regional. You’ve never had someone believe in you that way, who made you feel good enough. He watches your confidence grow the longer he’s with you and it’s captivating.

One of the things he loves about you is how creative you are and how that translates into the bedroom. He’s never experimented with body paint before, the possibility of it hasn’t crossed his mind. You’re a savant with a paint brush, you use it like a tool to tease over his sensitive skin, painting delicate pretty patterns on his flesh until he’s aching for you.

You ruin him on one of your canvasses that night, laughing at the mess the two of you leave on the paper and on each other. He loves moments like this, because you fucking shine. You’ve brought so much light into his life, and he treasures that every single second of the day. In the aftermath he makes love to you again in the shower, the bright paint intermingling with water as it runs off the two of you.

Juice ends up hanging the canvas in his bedroom across from his bed. He likes looking at the swirls of colour, the way the shades intermingle.

You mumble in your sleep, your bare skin pressing against his as you snuggle even closer and Juice smile, because he’s never been as happy as he is in this moment and he doesn’t see that changing any time soon.

@kmc1989 @stydiaswish @goosterroose @librarian1002

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

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ravennaortiz · 3 months

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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

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narcolini · 1 year

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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!

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garbinge · 8 months

Text

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

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

Text

Catching the Red-Eye

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: I just saw a funny post that gave me a fic idea: Friend says “Our flight is at 3am so we could go drinking and then straight to the airport.” Y/N: “Sound like a great idea!” Narrator: “It was not a great idea.” Can I request a Juice x reader where she & her gf (maybe Tara or someone?) are coming back from a girls trip and Juice(&Jax or whoever) have to deal w/ whatever state they find their girls in? 😂😂

Warnings: language, alcohol

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: I started a draft for this months ago when you first sent it in and then my computer deleted it. But I got back to it tonight because apparently my muse is only awake between 11pm and 1am these days 😂 I did tweak a couple little things from the original request but the idea of writing reader an Tara as friends just made my heart way too happy. I love them so much and I hope they have many adventures together going forward. I've missed writing slice of life stuff like this. 🥰 (Also I can't lie this made me want to write more fic for Jax and Tara. It's such a small glimpse of them here but god I mourn the missed opportunities of them just having normal relationship moments man idkidk)

A/N 2: My requests are closed this is an old one that's been sitting in my inbox for literal months. Unedited and unbetad as always lmao

SOA Taglist: @espieviolet99 @littlekittymeow @chibsytelford @juicyortiz @meadowofsinfulthoughts @i-just-read-stuff @bport76 @withmyteeth @buckybarneshairpullingkink @paintballkid711 @jitterbugs927 @fanfic-n-tabulous @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @beardburnsupersoldiers @choochoo284 @artemiseamoon @yourwinchesterbros @nessamc @garbinge @narcolini (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was the first time that you’d ever actually been drunk on a plane. For all the times you heard people talk about airport bars, and all the times that flight attendants had offered you cocktails, you had never really thought much about it. You were always on the go through the airport, always had a book or something to keep you company on the flights. You had never even been buzzed near a plane, let alone drunk and on one.

Apparently the missing ingredient had been traveling with Tara. You had no idea what you had been missing out on until you had it. All because of a trip for a hospital conference. The two of you had spent the better part of your week sitting through lectures and seminars. Sure, the information was interesting, and sure, you were both thankful for the opportunity. But after an entire week in a swanky resort it felt like the two of you had nothing to show for it.

Then to top it all off, your flight got delayed. So you and Tara were stuck at the airport with a few extra hours to kill. It wasn’t long enough to justify leaving just to have to go back through security, but it was too long to just sit there doing nothing. You had no interest in the book in your backpack, and the way that Tara was looking around the airport had you thinking she was in the same predicament.

Then she turned and looked at you, eyebrows raised and a little bit of a glint in her eyes. “You know,” she leaned on the armrest between your two chairs at the terminal, “since our flight isn’t until three now, we could just…” she shrugged casually, “hit one of the bars here and head straight to our flight afterwards.”

You chuckled, trying to gage just how serious she was. “R-really?”

She shrugged, “Why not? The plane has a designated driver. Plus,” she stood up from her seat, “I think we deserve something besides pamphlets and lecture notes for the week we’ve had.” She held her hand out for you to take. “Come on. Closest bar is just a few gates down.”

Despite knowing that it was most likely going to end in a hangover on a plane, you slapped your hand into hers and let her pull you up from your seat and down the hallway. The amount of laughter erupting from the two of you were the sure sign of an impending good time.

It was such a good time, in fact, that it was a just before midnight when your phone started buzzing in your pocket. You pulled it out to see who was calling at such a late hour. You half-stifled a giggle as you showed Tara the name flashing across your screen.

“I forgot to tell him the flight got delayed.”

Her eyes widened as she laughed, taking a sip of her drink before saying, “Oh. When you tell him, make sure he tells Jax.” She let out another laugh. “I forgot to tell him, too.”

You were laughing as you answered the phone. “Hey, baby.”

“Hey,” Juice had been confused the second he dialed your number, but the drunken lilt to your voice only made him more confused. “Are you good? We're at the airport and—”

“Promise me you won’t get mad?” you asked, still giggling.

“He better not!” Tara chimed in with a laugh before ordering the two of you another round of drinks.

Juice couldn’t help but to laugh at the fact that Tara was also drunk. After getting it together, he said, “I promise I won’t get mad. What’s up?”

“Our flight got delayed.” You laughed. “Until 3AM. We aren’t,” you took a sip of the drink that Tara handed you, “we aren’t gonna be home until morning.”

Juice sighed but he wasn’t mad. All the shit that you went through because of him being in the club, all the changed and canceled plans for a myriad of reasons, you more than earned this one. Tara too.

“You’re mad,” you said.

He laughed. “I’m not mad. Just, you know, don’t get carried away and miss your flight.”

You smiled even though he couldn’t see it. “We won’t.”

“Text me later with an ETA?”

“As soon as we board the plane.”

“Alright. I love you.”

You were beaming. “I love you too.” He was halfway through saying goodbye when you remembered, “Oh! Shit. Make sure you tell Jax! Tara forgot too.”

Juice laughed. “Yea, I think he might have figured it out by now.”

You heard Jax's muffled hello on the other end of the line, laughing before finally getting around to saying one more I love you to Juice and saying goodbye.

The rest of the night into the tiny hours of the morning flew by in a bit of a blur. There was a lot of laughing, a lot of drinks. If your memory served right there were a decent number of them that you and Tara didn’t have to pay for yourselves which always seemed to make a drink taste better. It was a great time, and despite the amount of alcohol in your systems you still made it to your flight on time. You even remembered to update Juice.

The two of you managed to get your laughter somewhat under control for the sake of the other passengers on the plane. You didn’t want to keep them up with fits of giggles so you dialed it down. It didn’t take long for Tara to drift off to sleep, but you knew that wasn’t going to be happening for you until you home and in your own bed. And, with any luck, curled up with Juice.

Not sleeping had the unique upside of allowing you to nurse another drink or two on the flight. Just enough to keep you buzzed, to stop you from getting slammed with a brutal hangover. You kept yourself perfectly amused on the relatively short flight home. A few hours on a plane seemed to go by faster than in the car. Being able to watch the sun come up while still having a buzz certainly didn’t hurt.

Tara woke with a groan when you nudged her shoulder after the plane landed. She shook her head at you, not opening her eyes all the way as she felt around on the floor for her purse. “This is why I don’t drink,” she grumbled.

You laughed as you stood up, slipping your backpack on your shoulders. “No, you don’t drink because we always have to be grownups.”

“If we’re both grownups, why am I the only one who’s dying?” she asked as she reached over and snatched your sunglasses off the top of your head and put them on.

“I stayed up,” you laughed as you walked through the airport towards baggage claim, “and I stayed drunk.”

She had to laugh at that. “Smart. I’ll have to remember that next time.”

“Next time?” you said with a grin as you pulled your suitcase and then hers from the carousel. “Hell yea.”

When the two of you stepped outside, Tara immediately let out another groan at the bright morning sunlight. You couldn’t help your laughter as you continued walking, looking for either your car or Tara's. She followed along behind you, trusting you to do the real scouting on her behalf.

It wasn’t long until you saw both Jax and Juice standing on the sidewalk, leaning back against the side your car. You waved to get their attention, picking up your pace, not caring about the suitcase rolling and bouncing along behind you. The second you were close enough, you let go of the suitcase and ditched it on the sidewalk in favor of running up and hugging Juice. You hopped up, wrapping both your arms and legs around him as you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

He laughed, the impact of your jump making him stumble a step but he still caught and held onto you. He hooked his arms underneath you, holding you as your legs wrapped around his waist. He hooked his chin over your shoulder, holding you tight for a moment before you let your feet hit the ground again. Pulling back, you kissed him hard on the lips, leaving the both of you breathless and somehow still laughing.

“I missed you too,” he said with a chuckle. He leaned into it as you cupped his face in your hands. “The trip was good, then?”

“It was great!” you beamed. “Missed you, though.”

“Looks like you two did just fine without us.” He paused, looking over at Tara who was leaning into Jax as he chuckled at her hungover state. “Well, one of you did just fine.”

Jax kissed the side of Tara's head. “Rough trip, babe?”

She shook her head. “The trip was great. I’m still dying, though.” She hugged him and kissed him on the lips. “Take me home so I can die in peace.”

He laughed. “Is this how I am when I’m hungover?”

“You’re worse,” all three of you replied in unison, laughing when you realized.

Jax rolled his eyes but he was laughing too as he picked up both your suitcase and Tara's to toss them into the trunk of your car. “Let’s get you party animals home.”

You immediately ran towards the front of the car. “I call shotgun!”

You were comfortably slouched in your seat with your feet on the dash before Jax and Tara finished settling themselves in the back seat. Jax had his arm draped around her shoulders, keeping her tucked snug against his side as she got ready to lightly doze for the duration of the ride home.

Juice reached over, resting his hand on your thigh as he drove. You interlocked your fingers with his, watching the scenery through the windshield and the passenger window.

Juice squeezed your hand. “How the hell are you not, you know, super fucking hungover?”

You were too busy laughing to answer the question, so Tara piped up from the back seat for you. “Hair of the dog,” she mumbled.

You laughed as you nodded. “Something like that. I just didn’t let myself sober up all the way.” You saw the way Juice peeled his eyes off the road to look at you for a moment and shrugged. “What? The flight attendant offered! Who was I to say no? Don’t worry,” you patted his hand, “when I wake up from my nap in a few hours I will be plenty hungover. By then Tara will be doing better than I’m doing now.”

Juice dropped the two of them off at Jax's. You said a lazy goodbye from the passenger seat, the exhaustion of the week and the all-nighter finally catching up to you. You were starting to close your eyes when Juice got back into the driver's seat. He looked over at you before he put the car back in drive, unable to stop smiling at the sight of you.

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that he was looking at you. “Yea?”

He laughed quietly. “Nothing. I love you.” He leaned over the center console so he could kiss the side of your head. “I’m glad you two had fun. I’m even more glad that you’re home.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him with a smile. “You’re a sap, Juan Carlos.”

He chuckled as he backed out of their driveway. “You love me, though.”

You couldn’t deny that. “I do. But remember that you love me in a few hours when I’m cranky and hungover.”

“When you’re trying to bury yourself in all of our pillows and blankets?”

“And trap you there with me.”

“And all of your crankiness.”

You laughed, resting your hand on top of his on the console between you. “Exactly.”

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

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sogoodtoheritsvicious · 1 year

Text

Juice getting suckered into babysitting would include!

Request from: @darqchilddaydreamz

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

Warnings: None, just fluff!

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

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz imagine #soa x reader #soa imagine #juice ortiz x you #my writing #would include #soa #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #soa would include

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spaghettificationandpretzels · 1 year

Text

Happy Birthday Juan

Sons of Anarchy Masterlist

This is very short, but I hope everyone likes it. This is the fic for the poll a few months ago.

Contains: Fluff on fluff on fluff, very mild angst.

1.5K words

You make sure Juice has the best birthday ever.

You made sure to climb out of bed with the quiet of a church mouse, hoping last night's pre-birthday "gift" had tired Juice out enough that he would say asleep.

It must have worked because you managed to slip on your clothes and brush your teeth before heading out of the bedroom. Happy was already at the counter, having stayed the night after a nice dinner due to "bike troubles."

"I need a favor."

Happy offered you a soft smile, "I think I know what you're going to ask me little girl but go a head."

You smiled, "I have a plan for Juice's birthday, I need you to find some reason to stay the night tomorrow. I'd ask one of the others but they can't keep secrets for shit."

Happy chuckled, "I can do that, what are you planning?"

You went into detail, Happy nodding along, pausing to add his two cents now and then.

He was taking his head as you finished, "and how do you plan to keep him asleep for the first part of this?"

You gave Happy a look, "we're going to play Uno all night long, how the fuck do you think Hap? I spend a lot of money of some very fancy underwear and I'm going to put it to good use."

Happy was unfazed, "alright then, how about I tell the guys while you're busy with that, that way we don't have to do everything?"

You shoved his shoulder lovingly, "we make a great team."

Happy sighed, "yeah yeah, you've already roped me in, no need to butter me up more."

You started making breakfast while Happy called Chibs, making sure to be as quiet as you could so you didn't wake Juice. It took a little longer than usual, but Happy didn't take long on his phone call, so he helped. As you just placed the last egg on the plate, you heard the door open and Juice came out rubbing his face.

"Happy birthday dearest, I made you breakfast."

Juice smiled and walked over to you, pressing his lips to your cheek, "I am one lucky man." He sat down and tucked in while you put in the second part of your plan.

Chibs showed up a few minutes after Juice had finished breakfast with the tow truck for Happy's bike, doing his best to look sad. He sat at the table with a sigh and looked at Juice, "I'm sorry man, I know you were planning to spend your day with your girl, but we've had a rush of parts that need to be inventoried."

You made a sad face, "really, can't you call in someone else to do it?"

Chibs shook his head, "sorry lass, we need all hands on deck."

Juice sighed, "it's alright, we've had this happen before, I should be home by four."

You walked over and gave Juice a hug, glaring at Chibs as his smile widened as if to say, "don't blow this."

Juice walked away a little crestfallen and you moved on to stage three.

****

Juice arrived at T-M to a small surprise, Chibs had led him to believe that there were wall-to-wall boxes, but the shipment wasn't much bigger than average. Jax walked over and gave me a hug, "sorry man, I knew you had plans today but we need to get this shit done."

Juice nodded, "it's fine, it won't take us long."

****

"Wow, you're really going all out." Lyla looked over the ingredients on the counter with a smile on her face.

You smiled back, "I wanted to cook all his favourites, Happy's giving me updates, we have a few hours before he gets home." You picked up the sugar and butter, "I'll do the caramel if you tackle cake batter?"

She nodded, "done. What's after that?"

You thought for a moment, "I have to put the stew in the pressure cooker and make the mix for the pot stickers. This won't take long so I'm hoping we'll be done with most of the stuff in the next two hours."

Lyla smiled, "that sounds like a plan."

****

Juice called you on his lunch break and you did your best to keep the noise down so he wouldn't catch on, "how's your day been handsome?"

You could hear his smile, "better now that I'm talking to you, they guys are trying to take it easy on me but I'm not sure when I'll be home."

BEEEEEEEEEEEP

Oh shit, the oven

"What was that dollface?"

You and Lyla shared a look, "I'm making myself some tuna toast, sorry about that."

There was a pause and you could hear the disappointment in his voice, "oh, but you'll stay on the phone until my break is done right?"

You felt your heart hurt, but you buried it, "of course, it will stay warm for ages. Have you gotten any gifts yet?"

You knew he hadn't, you have carefully hidden all his gifts from the guys in the spare room, "no, I don't think they got me anything, I didn't ask anyway."

You took a deep breath, it was taking everything not to blurt out the truth, "we'll see, maybe they'll give you something before you leave."

There was a shout in the background, his lunch break was done, "I gotta go, I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you too Juicy."

He sounded a bit deflated when he hung up so you went back to work, you were going to make sure today was the best birthday he had ever had.

****

Juice felt his mood drop as the day went on, by the time the guys started to leave his birthday really felt like any other day. He could tell his friends were trying, they let him have the first pick of the donuts, they didn't ask him to do as much as they normally would but it was still a disappointment, you had been telling him for weeks that you were going to make sure today was a good day.

To top it off, his partner at clear passages had called him just as he and Jax were locking up to tell him that something was wrong and that he needed to come by.

He called you just before he got on his bike, hoping that hearing your voice would give him the mood boost he needed to keep going, "hey dollface, I got bad news."

He could hear noise in the background but he figured it was just the TV, "oh no, what's wrong." You knew what was wrong, nothing, the Clear Passages "problem" was just a detour so everyone could be there by the time Juice got home.

"A bunch of money's been stolen at the weed shop, I'll probably be there till late tonight."

You did your best to sound sad, "I'm sorry Juicy, how about we take the weekend off to make up for all this? We can go to that little country house we love so much."

There was a pause and then his mood picked up, "I'd love that, I'll be home as soon as I can. Love you y/n."

"Love you too Juicy."

****

When Juice got to Clear Passages, he was surprised there were no police there. He ran up to his partner, who offered him a slightly embarrassed smile, "I'm sorry, I miscounted then, in a panic, put half of the cash down and walked away, then I forgot where I had left it. False alarm."

Juice breathed a sigh of relief, "no worries man, I'm gonna head back home, it's been a long day."

His partner nodded, "sure, happy birthday Juice."

Juice waved his hand, "thanks."

****

You were lucky Juice pulled up to the house when he did because you didn't think you could hold it in any longer. You shooed back room and sat on the couch, doing your best to act natural as he opened the door, "you're home early, I thought something was wrong?"

Juice shot you a wide smile and opened his arms for a hug, "nah, nothing was wrong." You hugged him as hard as you could and he must have picked up on something because he pulled away and looked over your face, "what are you up to?"

Your eyes went wide, "nothing, nothing at all. Just don't go into the spare room whatever you do."

There was no signs of what was going on around that house and everyone had parked their cars and bikes in the backyard so Juice couldn't see them when he drove in. He brushed pasted you and placed his hand on the door to the spare room as you held back a smile.

He smirked at you and flung it open "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!!"

There was a burst of streamers and Juice's face broke out into a grin, "I fucking knew it, I knew you were planning something." Everyone was there and the room was decked out with balloons and decorations, there was a table piled high with gifts and something off to the side that looked suspiciously like some had tried to wrap a motorbike.

You smiled and walked up to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "I hope you didn't because this took weeks to plan but knowing these guys, they gave it away."

Juice captured you in a kiss and you leaned into it, placing you hand on the back of his head as he deepened it.

The crowd broke into a cheer and you separated from each other, "Happy birthday my love."

Fin

#juice ortiz #soa imagine #juice ortiz fanfic #fluff #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fluff #soa #samcro #juice Ortiz fluff #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz imagine #theo rossi #juice ortiz x you

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all-about-the-fairytale · 1 year

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Him pt.II

It has been several days since he insisted to drive me home on his motorcycle and since the longing kiss on my cheek and the left behind sweatshirt.

Even though I went to the hospital the next day, I didn’t run into him or any of them. Because when I arrived Rose, a nurse and dear friend of me told me.

“They left Y/N, they picked him up and left. Against doctors’ orders.” she shrugged her shoulders and turned around.

I really wanted to return his sweatshirt after washing it last night, so I stored it in my locker but decided to take it home again because, the chances of him showing up there was probably higher.

He never had asked for my number but he for sure knows where I live and work.

But still I’ve haven’t heard a word or neither I have seen him.

When I got back to work the next day for my night shift, his friend we treated the day before discharged himself and no trace was left, he was just here.

It has been a busy couple of days. Work has been up my ass, because two nurses are sick with the cold, so I’m stressed and exhausted to the max. Also, my anxiety is rising because just as I got off work, my car broke down not even one house away from mine - just my luck.

I frustrated closed the door of car as I looked through my phone for a auto shop. Luckily there was one not far and still in the same town Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, so I called.

“Teller-Morrow Automotive Repairs, Gemma speaking how can I help you?” a woman answered the phone.

“Hi, I- um I need help with my car. It just broke down and won’t start anymore. Could you help me out, please?” I bite my lips as I got closed to your front door.

“Sure, sweetheart. I’ll send two of my guys down. Can you tell me where exactly you are?” she asked.

“It actually happened down the road where I live, like two or three houses down the road. So, I could wait at my front porch for them. Is that alright?” I really did not want to wait outside while its getting late.

“Oh that’s alright. What’s your adress honey?” I heard noises in the background. Probably tiping on her keyboard.

“Yes, it’s 3630 Hillview Street, not far from St. Thomas Hospital. I’m Y/N” I told her as Iopened my front door.

“They should be with you shortly Y/N. Don’t worry about anything sweetheart.” with that she hung up.

I took a quick shower, changes into something more comfortable and were now sitting outside at your front porch. Wrapped in a big cozy blanket, a tea and book on my lap - waiting for the tow truck.

I didn’t even finish a chapter in my book when I heard a car arriving and stopping at my house. Two guys walked up towards my in their greyish uniform.

“Excuse me Miss, are you the one calling TM about your car? Miss- um Y/N?” he looked down on a piece of paper assuming your address and name on it. The woman, Gemma, musted have gave it to them.

“That be me. My car is just over there. I’ll go grab my keys and come with you guys.” I pointed to the direction as I got up and went inside to get my keys and a jacket.

“We will take your car to the shop, and when you pick it up you can settle everything with Gemma, she’s the one you were on the phone with and will handle your paperwork.” the big guy said as the other one checked out my car and got it hooked to the truck.

“Thank you...-” I started and just then realized the guys never introduced themself.

“Ope or Opie, whatever is fine. We will give you call when the car is ready” he said with a smile as he got into the driver seat. Two days later you picked it up already without any trouble.

This was eleven days ago.

Eleven days.

And also still no word from him.

No knock on my door asking for his sweatshirt back or stopping at my work. Nothing.

I was and still am working the night shift ever since the next day.

Patients in and out of the ER, the rush and adrenaline to save each and every single one of them. I really did love your job even the hard days.

He got pushed back into the back of my head but not forgotten but as more days go by less I thought about him.

Today must have been one of the hardest days of your career. It started as a normal night shift with a quick handover, ask question about what has and hasn’t been done and go over the medication charts. Check on the post- operation patients and on their family too.

Its was a slow night for once and I was welcoming it by updating charts, getting smaller orders by the doctors as like draw blood, setting up the room equipment suitable for sleeping or necessary update the family members about the progress.

It was 2:08am when the phone rang to inform the ER that the incoming patients was a family of five, who had just been in a car crash, hanging on for their life and needed treatment immediately or even surgery. Paging all the surgeons on call, prepping the trauma rooms its was instantly over with the quit night.

I don’t know how the night went by or how I made it but because after eleven days my mental health was getting the best of me, and I was just so tired by the end of the shift. And by loosing 4/5 of that family did not make it better. It was the worst ever.

They called me in to tell me the news and they tell you to stay strong but seeing the fragile 10 weeks old baby just loosing mom, dad and their siblings was horrible. She’s an orphan. On car crash killed her whole family and now she got no one. I needed a moment to myself, and I cried. Literally cried in the nurse lounge for a good five minutes, only then to be brave enough to face the doctors again telling me “Y/N, the people from CPS will be here as soon as possible but it could take a couple days. We know this is a huge responsibility but as you are off for the next days. Could you take her in and take care of her, please?”

Saying I was shocked but by now I knew how this city and system worked. And I don’t want anything to happen to this baby by some weird as women out there.

So here I am.

Sitting in my car at the parking lot of the grocery store to scared to turn the car back on after putting her back in the cars eat, that made it out intact after the impact on their previous crash, in my backseat. After they have told me to take her in for some nights, I grabbed my stuff and with the help of the security I got everything safely into my car. My mind was running wild and even though she is just supposed to be staying with me for a couple of days it’s confusing.

We made it home and because she was still sleeping, I let her stay in the baby carrier and set her down on the kitchen counter to have my eyes on her while I prep myself some dinner, put the groceries away and stock the baby formular and whatsoever away in my kitchen. In the corner, neatly folded and freshly washed as his sweatshirt.

Holy shit, there is an actual baby sleeping in my kitchen. My house, needing my help for the next days.

“Fuck” I whispered to myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I love kids and babies and probably have my own if the serious relationship has had happen a long time ago, but it was never in the picture with focusing on high school, focusing on college and getting my nursing degree. All my life has been around building a stable life, career and be independent. Never realizing how much I wanted children in my life.

But I life in this very small city now, where you probably met all the guys and rather stay single.

After having dinner/breakfast, which contained only a quick veggie sandwich and water and coffee, she woke up crying.

“Hey girlie, you awake little O?” I unbuckled her and took her in my arms. “Are you hungry?” I asked, knowing she doesn’t understand me but kept spiting out her pacifier. I made her a bottle and set down on my couch, feeding and watching her. She was watching me back and I must look like a crazy lady to her. Hair in a messy bun, sticking out in every direction, glasses and exhausted. After a couple minutes she wrapped her hand around my finger, and I was stroking her cheek. “Did you have a good nap? I bet you did, and you did so good for me, I am auntie Y/N for a couple of days until we settle everything for you. I bet this must be crazy confusing. And I am talking to a baby.” I giggled to myself made her grin at me. “Oh, you this I am funny aren’t you. Huh?”

When she finished her whole bottle, I changed her diaper and put her in the pajamas, I found in the baby bag. We went back to the living room, and I decided to put on some calming music and bounced her in my arms, hoping to get her back to sleep again. We even danced for a while until she finally put her head down on my shoulder and fell asleep.

The made-up safety around her in my bed made her look even smaller, where I put her down. Now she’s laying right in the center of my king size bed with about six pillows around so she would fall out. I left the small light on and door halfway open in case she wakes up again.

I was still in my scrubs, un-showered with a glass of wine in one hand (I know but give me a break I worked the night shift) and a book in the other, glasses high on my nose when the quit street outside started to rumble. You could hear it in the distance, the rattling of a motorcycle. For the first time in nearly two weeks, perfect timing. The motorcycle got closer and louder, and I thought, any minute now there would be crying down my hallway, leading to the bedroom where she’s asleep.

The noise stopped outside the house and not long after the was a someone knocking on my door. And I knew exactly who it was.

When I opened the door a little, he shyly smiled at me “Hey Y/N”

For a moment you just stared at him, opened the door a little wider “Hi Juice”

He shifted for one leg to the other, hands deep in his leather kutte and focused on your face.

“You’re here for your sweatshirt aren’t ya? I’ll go get it, hold on” I was about to turn towards the kitchen, when he stopped me. “Actually, I wanted to see if you want to chill, ma- maybe hang out tonight? But you probably need to work so I ju-“

“You’re rambling Juice” I teased him. “Yeah- Yeah I probably am” he finally looked up again at you, eyes full of hope.

“Do you want to come inside now? Have a coffee, I just got of work and will maybe fall asleep by minute if I keep standing. Have a seat and coffee Juice”

Him and I are sitting in my living room now. “You went MIA the last couple of days. Not that I’ve noticed or anything since the last time and I also have been working at night in the hospital. Which reminds me how is your friend?”

“He’s okay, thanks.” He took a rather large sip of his coffee. “We and the rest had some busy days at work you know, the club, TM and stuff.” He tried to explain to me, shifting in his seat.

I was about to speak when the crying of a baby shrilled from the bedroom out to the living room. He looked over at me with big eyes and I tried to read into them. Shock, fear and confusion. I got up and quickly went to my bedroom and pick her up. “Hey, shh, shh. You’re okay, please go back to sleep little O” I tried to suet her by lightly bouncing her up and down and running a hand over her back, her head on my shoulder. I turned around and saw him watching us in the middle of my bedroom. Me and a baby and I thought he was gonna walk away for a second. But instead, he just watched us. She calmed down after a couple minutes and by the way her head was turned on my shoulder, the two of them must be watching each other. “I didn’t know you had a baby; I should probably go before your husband comes home.” I turned “She’s not mine Juice and I am not married either”

“Did you kidnap that baby?” he asked. “Wh- what? No, god no. Jesus Christ juice. I did not fucking kidnap her. I could be babysitting you know?! Fucking hell.” I probably said a little to loud and she started wailing again. Your hand still going up and down her back “Who’s baby is that, if she’s not yours Y/N?”

“She’s an orphan and lost her family today in the car crash on highway 5. She was the only one who made it our alive without a scratch. Her brothers, mom and dad died. Can you imagine that 4/5 people lost their life and she if totally unharmed. CPS will pick her up in a couple days and because I am off work for at least a whole week, they thought getting her out of the hospital and make her stay with me is easier.” When I turned I had tears in my eyes because I was hurting for her loosing everybody just like I did when I was a little girl.

She calmed down and was nearly fast asleep again, so I put her down on my bed and signaled him to follow me. I walked straight into the kitchen and held onto the counter, while trying to keep the tears in. I heard his shoes on the tiles, gosh why was he standing so close?

“I’m so sorry” he whispered. “You don’t need to feel sorry. I-” my grip on the counter was so strong my knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry” my gaze still down.

A sob left my lips and that’s when he pulled me into his chest and let me cry. I don’t even know for how long I was crying. Crying for her and her family, how hard her life will be and even for myself. He stroked my head, trying to calm me down.

“I’m ju- just so ex- exhausted and tired an-and caring for h-er until she gets picked up is hard. That will be hard again, building a bond and then letting go. F- fuck” my hand held onto his shirt, and he let me cry until I had nothing left in me.

He tilled my head back up by my chin and look into my eyes.

“I will stay the night and help you” “No Juice, you don’t need to do that” “You can’t make me chance my mind Y/N. You take a shower, and we will go to bed, and I watch out for the two of you” he was offering, I knew that and by the time it sinks in I knew I wanted him to stay. “Okay” I whispered.

He kissed my forehead, took my hand and led me down the hallway again to my bedroom. I took a quick shower, trying not to think about the guy sitting on my bed watching over the baby sound asleep. I didn’t bother to dry my hair, only doing my facial night routine, I stepped back in my bedroom. He didn’t notice because she must have woken up when I was in the shower and they were staring at each other, it gave me the chance to make her a bottle again.

I walked around my bed and got under the covers; I felt him staring at me the whole time. Once I’m settled, I turned to the side, and both looked at me. “Hi little O” I smiled at her.

“What’s her name, you keep calling her O” he asked. “It’s Oakley James”

Oakley happily took the bottle and once again held onto my finger, her eyes getting heavier. When she’s done, he offered to burp her which took me by surprise “Are you sure?” “Yeah, here giver her to me” I watched them, and I must admit he rather looks cute with a baby in his arms but who doesn’t. He laid her back down and she turned to me giving me a grin. “Don’t worry you sleep, and I will stay until you wake up again. I promise I’ll be here, now rest Y/N”

I could barely keep my eyes open, so I stopped fighting it and finally let myself rest after those crazy ass days.

His sweatshirt is still in my kitchen.

But he is here, with me, with Oakley in my bed. He didn’t run, he stayed. He stayed the entire time I was asleep; like he promised. He wasn’t in my bedroom but instead on my couch, reading my book with Oakley dozing on his bare chest. And I could help but stare from the doorway because I liked it, a lot. More than I should because my heart was beating so fast it scared the shit out of me.

#juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x y/n #juice ortiz x you #juice ortiz imagine #sons of anarchy #samcro #juice ortiz shot #jax teller imagine #jax teller fanfiction #sons of anarchy imagine

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filthyfluffyfantasies · 8 months

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masterlist ┉ juice ortiz

You’ve reached my masterlist for ( juice ortiz ). Below is a complete and mostly up-to-date list of pieces I have written for ( juice ortiz ) and a little list of symbols and their meanings to better help you find exactly what you’re looking for.

Happy reading, my darling!

NSFW

Alphabet

↪ here

Headcanons

↪ here

Interludes

↪ here

SFW

Alphabet

↪ here

Headcanons

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Interludes

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OTHER

Fic Name

↪ info post

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz fic #juice ortiz x reader #juice ortiz x self insert #juice ortiz x you #fandom file : sons of anarchy ; character - juice ortiz

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bullet-prooflove · 11 months

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Mini Drabble: A Thousand Times - Juan 'Juice' Oritz x Reader

Juice has thought a thousand times about walking you down the aisle. He’s imagined it in a church, on the steps of the courthouse, with his brothers and without. Sometimes you’re wearing a white dress fit for a queen, sometimes it’s that pretty green sundress he first met you in, the one that had ended up on his bedroom floor that night. Sometimes it’s a spur of the moment thing and sometimes it’s not. The point is, he’s thought about it a lot.

When you slip out from beneath his sheets this morning, he watches you, his head resting on his arms as he lies on his stomach. His eyes drift over your naked form as you make your way to the bathroom. He loves how comfortable you are in yourself, that you don’t have a shed of modesty when it comes to your body in bed, and out of it.

He thinks of the ring he’s had his eye on in the jewellers near the ice cream shop. It’s a shiny little thing, a silver circlet set with tiny sapphires that match the lace he peeled from your body last night. He has enough money to buy it, he has for a while, he’s just not sure where you stand on marriage. It’s not something the two of you have ever discussed.

When you come back out from the bathroom, you’re wearing nothing, but a smile and his heart rate picks up just a little bit.

Yea, he thinks, he could get used to waking up every morning like this.

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz x reader #juice x reader #juice ortiz x you #juan juice ortiz x reader

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ravennaortiz · 3 months

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I’m back 😆!!!! Can I get a Juicy with prompt 18. Go Slow, 29. Give me attention and 36. Want a hug? Maybe something sexy with my sexy ass Puertorrican? Thank you!!!!

Welcome back Love!!!! Now you know I can't resist our Juice!!! Then to top if off with the wink gif!?!? *Stares for 10 minutes* Alright alright I am here to work magic so lets get to it! Something sexy with those prompts? I got you! As always 18+.

P.S Stop by anytime!

Attention

"Juice are you listening?" questioned Jax in frustration as he caught Juice on his phone again. "Yup" replied Juice as he glanced up before his eyes drifted back to the screen. A small smile creeping onto his face as he saw your message - I need attention. NOW.- Along with another mirror photo showing your arched back and ass in his favorite lacy panties of yours. "What's so important?" started Tig as he snatched the phone from Juice. "Jesus Christ" he muttered as he handed the phone back.

Juice chuckled as he texted you back - Want a hug?- before closing his phone. "Your gonna learn one day. Your lucky she had anything on" he stated as Tig shot him a glare. "I don't appreciate how you have corrupted my only daughter that is a decent person" scolded Tig as the others laughed. "I'm innocent in this. Shes the one who corrupted me" replied Juice as he put his hands up as in defeat. "Enough" growled Jax with annoyance as he pinched his nose. "All of you just go. I can see we will get no where today" he added with a sigh.

***

"So you want that hug or not?" called Juice as he stepped into your guys house toeing off his boots as he slipped out of his kutte. "A hug the best you can offer me?" you inquired as you stepped into the living room with a laugh. "I'm open to discussion" replied Juice as he looked over your naked body as he licked his lips. Tilting your head to the side as your eyes danced with mischief and lust. "I bet....I could hug you tighter than you can hug me" you replied lowly.

Juice nodded as he walked over to you yanking his thsirt off. The meaning of your words not lost on him as his brain got fuzzy with lust. "Is that so?" he replied as he put his hands on your hips and pulled you into his arms kissing you. "Mmhmm" you moaned as he pushed you into the wall and your hands snaked to his belt desperately wanting to eliminate the barrier between you two. "Not yet" whispered Juice as his lips ghosted the sensitive area of your neck as he grabbed your hands gently. "I'm going to go slow so you get all that attention you were wanting" he added as he nipped your neck making you whimper before carrying you to your bedroom.

Laying you down on the bed he climbed on top of you making you wrap your legs around his waist. "Going to start at the top and make my way down to those cute little toes. Left, right then the center" murmured Juice as he kissed down the left side of your neck as his fingers trailed a path down your left thigh.

Want more Juice? Click here

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

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narcolini · 1 year

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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

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witchthewriter · 10 months

Photo

𝐏𝐎𝐕: You’re Jax Teller’s Old Lady - this is what your photo album looks like.

(the first photo is framed and hung in your house)

#witch the writer's moodboards #jax teller #old lady #old lady soa #sons of anarchy #opie winstone #jax teller x you #chibs telford #tig trager #juice ortiz #happy lowman #moodboard #soa #sons of anarchy moodboard #soa moodboard #pov #pov moodboard

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drabbles-mc · 2 years

Text

I’ve Got You

Juice Ortiz x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Can I please request a juice x f!reader where he falls for a girl that’s stuck in a toxic, emotionally abusive relationship and she’s in love with juice but afraid to leave her bf. Then one day juice sees bruises on her somewhere and loses it and deals with bf and juice ends up with reader please?

Warnings: 18+, abusive/toxic relationship, mentions of bruises/injuries, language, angst (with a hopeful ending)

Word Count: 7.5k (idk y’all this just turned into a beast of a fic)

A/N: Obviously there is some potentially triggering content in this so please don’t read if it’s going to upset you! Take care of yourselves out there. xo

SOA Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @espieviolet99 @mijop @chibsytelford @thanossexual @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff @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 @bruxasolta @i-love-scott-mccall @be-my-dear @toni9 @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You remembered when Juice showed up in Charming. New faces tended to stick out in such a small town, but when one of those new faces had head tattoos and a mohawk, it stuck out even more. The first time you saw him, you did a double-take, and your natural assumption was that he was someone who was just passing through. He didn’t seem like the type to set up shop in a place like Charming. But then you kept seeing him around, week after week.

You made small talk and exchanged pleasantries—that was part of the gig in your line of work. He was always respectful, if not a little clumsy in his interactions with you. He always smiled when you came over, even if some days the smile seemed more genuine than others. He always ordered one of the same three or four things, always tipped well, and always tried to stack his dishes to make it easier for you to clean up after he left.

The two of you had weeks of saying hello, wishing the other a good night, and you checking with him to make sure that the food was okay. You always wanted to start a real conversation, because the more you saw him the more painfully curious you got about him, but you never knew how to go about it. You didn’t know anything about him, and vice-versa, so you didn’t push it. A lot of the time, you wished that he would be the one to start the conversation. But that was a stretch, and you wondered if he ever really noticed you in a capacity beyond the fact that you were usually the waitress who was working on the nights that he came in.

You wished that you could say that you remember the first real conversation that you had with him, but you didn’t. You just knew that one day you found yourself looking forward to your shifts at work, despite the fact that working so late into the night hadn’t been something you were initially thrilled about.

Becoming friends with Juice made you wish that you had met him sooner. Some days you couldn’t help but to think that if Juice had wandered into your life a little sooner, then everything would be a lot different, a lot better. There was a lot to be said about the fact that you felt better, safer, happier at work rather than at home. You were afraid to start unpacking what that meant, so you didn’t. You just took solace in the fact that you had your little pockets of laughter and ease when he would come in.

You heard the bell above the door chime and you looked over to see who it was, confusion rushing through you when you saw that it was your boyfriend who had just walked in. He usually showed up at the end of your shift to pick you up and drive you home, but you weren’t going to be done for another few hours yet—he knew that.

You didn’t try to hide your confusion as he approached the counter, “Hey, baby, everything alright?”

He shrugged, “Yea,” he scanned the mostly-empty diner, “You ready to go?”

Your brows knit together, “N-no? I still have a few hours left of my shift. I’m here till one tonight.”

“You said ten this morning,” he was speaking quietly, but his tone was sharp enough to make you flinch.

“I, I texted you. They need me to stay late because Kate had something with her kid and she can’t get in until—”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, shaking his head, “I’m not waiting around till one in the fucking morning.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, “How am I supposed to get home?”

He shrugged, toying with the set of keys in his hands, “Call a cab. Figure it out.”

You hated the way your voice was wavering, “Are you serious?”

He looked shocked at the question, “Am I serious? I got work in the morning. I’m not gonna wait around.”

“But—”

“I gotta go,” there wasn’t a shred of remorse in his eyes as he turned around and started to walk away.

Tears were stinging at the edges of your eyes as he walked back out the way that he had come in. You wished that you had the guts to make a scene, to yell at him for being such an asshole, but you just couldn’t force it. Deep down, you knew that nothing would come of it even if you did. Or it would just serve to make things worse, and you didn’t need that.

Turning your back to the door, you leaned back against the counter and buried your face in your hands. Pressing at the inner corners of your eyes, you tried to fight the tears. You focused on your breathing, not wanting to lose it at work, even if there was hardly anyone in the diner at the moment. If you let yourself start crying, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to make yourself stop.

You were so wrapped up in trying to take deep breaths that you didn’t hear the chime signaling that the door opened again. Sucking in a deep breath, you slid your hands so that were resting on the sides of your face, fingers pressing against your temples like that was going to hit pause on all of the emotions swirling around inside of you.

Juice strode up, happily taking a seat at his usual spot at the counter. He waited a beat, but when you still didn’t turn around, he said, “Hey, you good?”

The sound of his voice startled you even though he wasn’t being loud at all. Whipping around, you did your best to plaster on a smile as you nodded, “Yea, I’m good,” you fought the urge to sniffle, “What can I get you, Juice?”

Despite your attempt to continue like things were business as usual, he couldn’t ignore how upset you looked. He knew that he didn’t really have the right to pry, but he had to at least ask, “You sure you’re alright?”

The laugh you let out was weighted with sadness as you tried to dismiss the question, “Just…just boyfriend stuff. It’s not a big deal, really.”

“You wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head, “You’re sweet, Juice, really. But I’m okay.”

He nervously drummed his fingers on the countertop, “Anything I can do?” He saw the way you opened your mouth, almost asking for something, before closing it again and shaking your head. He hated feeling like there was nothing he could do for you, so he pressed it, “What?”

You hated feeling like you had to ask people for help in general, but to feel like you had to ask Juice, who you barely knew outside of a work context, because your boyfriend was shitty and bailed on you felt like a whole new kind of humiliating. Still, if he could it would beat paying for a cab or walking home.

“You can say no, because I know it’s late. But…but do you think that you could give me a ride home at the end of my shift?”

His eyes widened, not expecting that to be the thing that you asked for. It was an easy favor, really, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. You were the whole reason he came to the diner anyway. He nodded, “Of course.”

Your relief was impossible to miss, “Yea?”

He nodded, “Yea.”

You let out a sigh of relief, setting your hand on top of his for a brief moment, “Thank you, Juice. Seriously.”

“No problem.”

“I, um, I don’t get off until one. Is that too late?”

“Not at all,” he flashed you a smile, “That’s an early night for me.”

It got a soft but genuine laugh out of you, “Okay. Thank you. I’ll, I’ll grab you some coffee, then.”

The two of you didn’t talk about what had happened before Juice got there. He wanted to ask, but he could tell that it was a very precarious balance that was allowing you to keep yourself together while you were working and he didn’t want to be the one to ruin that. He watched as you worked, flitting around to the few tables that had customers at them so late at night.

You never really talked much about your boyfriend. He knew that you had one because every now and then you’d mention him in passing. But he wasn’t a topic the two of you discussed all that frequently. You never brought him up and, if Juice was being honest, he preferred it that way. It was selfish on his part, but there was always a twinge of jealousy that went through him whenever you brought the guy up. He tried to push it down and ignore it because he knew that he had no right to feel that way, but he couldn’t help it. Now, though, he wondered if he should’ve been pushing a little harder.

When someone finally came in to relieve you from your shift, you felt one weight fall from your shoulders and a whole new one fall onto them. Being done with work was nice, but going home to your boyfriend was something that you were not looking forward to in the slightest. Juice could see it on your face that your mind was somewhere else entirely as the two of you walked towards the door of the diner.

“Oh, um, I probably should’ve said it earlier,” he sounded nervous as he held the door open for you, “but I have my bike. I can bring you home still, but I just, are you comfortable riding?”

You shrugged, giving a shy smile, “I’ve never ridden before.”

“It’s not bad,” Juice reassured you as he handed you his helmet, “I’m a good driver. Promise.”

You chuckled as you clipped on the helmet, “I’ll take your word for it.”

You explained to him how to get to your house. It wasn’t terribly far, so you figured the risk for taking long turns was low. There were jitters running through you as he helped you settle behind him on the bike. You didn’t know why you felt nervous as you settled your arms around his middle, but you did. You desperately wanted to relax into him but something inside you just wouldn’t let you.

Juice turned to glance at you over his shoulder, “You good?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, trying to sound more confident than you felt, “I’m good.”

Taking one hand off the handlebar, he pulled your arms a little tighter around him, making you fall a little closer to him, “I won’t break. Promise.” You let out a soft laugh and Juice tried not to think too much about the feeling of your breath against his neck.

The ride to your house was the most relaxed that you’d felt all day. You weren’t expecting to take to riding on the back of the bike so quickly. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting to enjoy it very much at all. But it felt much safer than you thought it would, although you were sure that Juice was being much more cautious than usual since you were sitting behind him.

As he was approaching the end of your street, you spoke up, “You can drop me off here.”

“What?” his confusion was audible, “I can drop you off at your house. It’s really not a problem.”

You didn’t know how to say that you didn’t want to wake your boyfriend up, the same boyfriend who left you stranded at work to find another way to get home because he didn’t want to wait for you. Saying it out loud would reinforce how absurd the whole situation was, especially when you knew it wasn’t the first or last time that he would pull something like this. You didn’t want to unload all of that on Juice. And, aside from the inconvenience of waking him up, you knew that your boyfriend wasn’t going to like the fact that some guy you knew from work gave you a ride home on the back of his motorcycle. There were too many layers to the issues it was going to cause.

“Really,” you tried to convince him without giving any details, “It’s okay. I’m only a couple houses down the street.”

He rounded the corner onto your street, but he did bring the bike to a stop at the end. Normally he wouldn’t entertain the idea of only bringing someone about ninety-five percent of the way to their destination, but he heard the uncertainty in your voice and he didn’t know what to do with that. He watched as you carefully unhooked yourself from around him and got off the bike.

“Are you okay?” he didn’t try to water down the concern in his tone, “Do you need a place to crash for the night?”

“No,” your response came quick, and you tried to fix the panic in your voice, “I’m fine, Juice, really. I just,” you shook your head, “if I can get to bed without waking my boyfriend up and dealing with all of that, that’d be best. You know?”

He didn’t know. He had no idea. He hated the sadness in your eyes, though, the same look that you’d had on your face all night. He couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of someone treating you poorly. How could they?

“Can I give you my number?” the words fell out of his mouth before he could think to stop them. He cleared his throat, trying to recover, “Just, you know, in case you need anything. I don’t sleep much, so I’ll always pick up.”

“Juice, you really don’t have to—”

“I know,” he nodded, watching you fidget with the clasp on the helmet as you took it off, “But it doesn’t hurt to have it. Just in case.”

You hesitated, but you finally nodded as you handed your phone over to him, “Okay.”

His shoulders sagged in relief as he took the phone from you and started putting his number in. It crossed his mind as he did so, that it was a little strange that the two of you hadn’t done this sooner. Sure, you didn’t see each other outside of the diner, but he was there fairly frequently, and always stayed for a fairly long time so he could talk with you. He wondered what had stopped him from doing this sooner.

You handed him his helmet when he handed you your phone. Both of you didn’t quite know what came next, how you were supposed to say goodbye. The energy and tension between you were so different because of the circumstances. There was so much left unsaid, so much concern weighing down the air around you both.

“Get home safe, okay?” you finally broke the silence.

“Yea, will do,” he clipped on his helmet but he couldn’t stop looking back and forth between you and the houses on the street, “Promise me you’ll call me if you need me?”

You nodded, doing your best to force a somewhat convincing smile, “I promise. But I’m alright, Juice. Really,” stepping in, you hugged him as best you could while you were standing and he was still sitting on the bike, “Thanks for the ride.”

You started walking towards your house, and every step of the way you had to make a conscious effort not to look back over your shoulder at Juice. It wasn’t until you started walking up your driveway that you heard the sound of his motorcycle taking off. Resting your forehead against your front door, you took a deep breath before slipping the key into the lock and letting yourself inside.

Doing your best to move as silently as possible, you toed off your shoes and dropped your purse by the door. Tip-toeing down the hall to the bedroom, you silently stripped off your work clothes and pulled on an old t-shirt and shorts to go to bed in. Your boyfriend was sleeping peacefully on his side of the mattress, looking perfectly unbothered as he snored and slept away the fact that he had left you stranded only a few hours before. Shaking your head at yourself and at him, you slowly and carefully slipped underneath the covers next to him, turning so that you were lying on your side with your back to him. You glanced over at your nightstand and stared at your phone, and for a moment you contemplated calling Juice to come back and get you.

You were woken up a few hours later by the sounds of your boyfriend getting ready for work. It took a few moments, but you finally forced your eyes open to see how close he was to being ready to leave for the day. Once he was gone you fully intended to go right back to sleep.

“See you made it home,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed to pull his socks on.

You wanted to have a snarky comment, but more than an argument you just wanted him out of the house, “Yea.”

“How’d that happen?”

Nothing that you did the night before had been wrong. Nothing weird or bad had happened between you and Juice, but you knew that that wouldn’t matter. If he knew that some guy gave you a ride home on the back of his motorcycle, he was going to lose his shit. You didn’t have the energy to deal with that.

“I just called a cab,” you lied.

He nodded, standing up after he tied the laces of his work boots, “Good. Maybe next time you’ll remember to tell me when your schedule changes.”

You did tell him. You could grab your phone and show him the message you sent him as soon as you found out. But, again, you just wanted him out, “Right.”

“I’ll be home in time to bring you in tonight,” he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that should’ve felt soft and sweet but it didn’t, “I’ll see you later, babe.”

You nodded, falling back against your pillow as he walked toward the bedroom door, “Bye.”

Despite your initial plans to go back to sleep the second he left, once you heard the front door slam shut behind him, your ability to sleep completely left you. You laid on your back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to figure out how it all got this bad. You didn’t remember when your whole life started revolving around when he decided he could make time for you. It wasn’t always like that, he wasn’t always like that, but yet here you both were.

When you finally resigned yourself to the fact that you were awake for the day, you forced yourself to get out of bed and shower. The hot water made you feel a little better, but it did nothing to curb the intense exhaustion that was buried deep in your bones. You made yourself breakfast and a cup of coffee and tried to figure out what to do with your day until he came back home to bring you to work. You were hoping that sooner rather than later your body would shut down and you’d be able to take a nap to try and catch up on missed hours of sleep, but you weren’t going to hold your breath.

When you’d caught up on cleaning around the house that afternoon and you still weren’t any closer to falling asleep for a while, you decided that for once you just didn’t feel like waiting around for your boyfriend to come and get you. Part of you was tempted to call a cab and just head to town for a little bit, just to get out and have some time to yourself before you had to work, but before you could follow through on that you found yourself grabbing your cellphone and calling Juice instead.

True to his word, he picked up almost immediately, “Hello?”

“Hey,” you hated how nervous you sounded, “It’s me.”

He chuckled, “Hey, everything alright?”

“Yea. I, um,” you realized that you didn’t really know what exactly that it was you wanted from him besides wanting to see him and also not be home anymore, “I was just wondering if you were free? Maybe wanted to get a cup of coffee?”

He wasn’t expecting that, “Oh. Um, yea, definitely. Do you…do you want me to come pick you up?”

“If you can. If not, no worries I can just—”

“I got it,” you could hear rustling coming from his end of the line and you had the feeling that he was already about to be on his way to you, “I’ll see you in a few.”

“Okay,” you managed a laugh, “Thank you, Juice.”

“Anytime.”

It didn’t take him long at all to get to your house, which told you he was either close by or speeding, and both were equally likely. He parked at the end of your driveway and you were already out your front door before he could walk up and knock. He smiled at the sight of you not in your work uniform for once, although when he spotted the bag hanging off your shoulder, he assumed that that’s what was inside of it.

“I brought a spare this time,” he held a helmet out to you, a proud smile on his face.

You laughed as you took it from him, “Thank you. So,” you asked as you clipped and adjusted the helmet on your head, “You know any good places for coffee?”

He laughed as you climbed onto the bike behind him, “I usually go to you.”

You chuckled as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling a little more comfortable with it than you had the night before, “There’s no way the diner coffee is that good.”

He was glad that you couldn’t see the embarrassed look on his face, “Yea, guess I don’t really go there for the coffee.”

You assumed that he had thought of another place to go, because before you knew it he was taking off out of your driveway and cruising down the road. You found yourself melting into him in a way that you hadn’t before, but he didn’t seem to mind. Your chest was pressed flush against his back, hands interlocked in front of him. Juice didn’t make a habit of taking girls for rides on his bike, but even if he had he was sure that it wouldn’t have felt quite like this.

He came to a stop on the main street that cut through Charming. Looking around, you spotted a coffee spot that you hadn’t ever noticed before despite how long you had been in Charming. You were so in your usual routine that you never took the time to branch out all that much anymore. You wondered how often Juice came here.

Like he could read your thoughts, Juice spoke as he hung his helmet on the handlebar of his bike, “I’ve never been here, but a guy I work with swears by it.”

“Yea?” Juice had mentioned some of the men in the club before, but never quite like that, “You trust his opinion?”

He shrugged, laughing, “Yea. He’s weird but he’s pretty spot-on when it comes to food.”

The two of you sat at one of the small tables by the large front windows. It was so different to be across from him but on the same playing field for once. You were just existing with him as a person, not as a waitress serving a customer. It felt different to you, but it was nice.

Juice’s friend from work had been right—the coffee was very good. But the drinks became a bit of an afterthought the longer that the two of you sat together and talked. It was nice to not have the interruptions that came when you were at work. You didn’t have to step away mid-story to take care of someone else or run something back to the kitchen. You just got to sit across from him and enjoy his company undisturbed.

You were pretty sure that you could sit and listen to Juice talk all day and never get tired of it. You always looked forward to him coming in to see you, sure, but now that it was essentially just the two of you spending time together, it hit you just how much you found comfort in his company. There was a warmth in your chest that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

Every time that you smiled or laughed, Juice became mesmerized all over again. Ever since he stumbled across you in the first place all that time ago, he always felt a little better when he was around you. He wouldn’t have been able to explain it to someone if he tried, but there was just something about you that drew him in. He didn’t know what to do with that feeling, knowing that trying to act on it at all would be futile, but that fact didn’t stop him from always circling back to you over and over again. It didn’t feel real that he was really able to sit across a table from you and spend time with you like this. He kept waiting for it to be a dream that he was going to get woken up from.

“Thank you,” you said when there was a pause in the conversation, you couldn’t quite force yourself to meet his eyes as you spoke, “I really needed this.”

Something in the tone of your voice made his heart soften a bit, “No problem. I told you, anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”

His words felt so genuine. There was so much more that you wanted to say, answers to unasked questions that you wanted to give him. But you didn’t want to pop the bubble that the two of you had been in since he came and picked you up. Maybe another time you would try to scratch the surface of the mess you now found yourself in.

The two of you jumped back into lighter conversation again, completely losing track of time as you sat and talked. Part of you was almost tempted not to go to work just so that you could stay with him a little while longer. One night off wouldn’t be the end of the world. How were you supposed to tear yourself away from the man sitting across from you?

You were just about to start telling him another story when your phone started to go off in your pocket. You shot him an apologetic smile as you pulled it out to see who was calling. All of the warmth and joy that had been coursing through you immediately dissipated when you saw the name that was flashing on the screen. Juice noticed the immediate change in your demeanor but before he could ask you answered the call, holding the phone up to your ear.

“Hel—”

You didn’t even get the greeting out before your boyfriend’s voice boomed from the other end of the line, “Where the fuck are you?!”

You cringed, pulling the phone away from your ear in an attempt to ease the blow, “I just—”

“You didn’t think to fucking tell me where you were going to be? I flew here from work so I could get you to your fucking job. And now you’re not even fucking here?!”

Tears were filling your eyes as you tried to get a sentence out before he cut you off again, “I just went to get coffee with a friend.”

His laugh was cruel, “A friend? What fucking friend?”

“You don’t—”

“I hope that friend can get you to work tonight. Because you’re on your own.”

Your lip was quivering and you were trying not to completely break down, “Listen, pl—”

“I’ve got nothing else to fucking say to you.”

You were about to respond but before you could the line went dead. Shutting your eyes tight, you tried to ignore the tears that slipped out onto your cheeks. Dropping your phone on the surface of the table, you buried your face in your hands, shoulders shaking as you started to cry.

Juice had never in his life felt so simultaneously angry and helpless. He was caught between wanting to hold you, and wanting to take off and put an end to the man who made you cry like that. He’d only heard parts of his side of the conversation, but that was all he needed to hear. No wonder you never really seemed to talk about the guy.

He gave you a moment before speaking very softly, “Hey,” he waited for you to finally look at him, “what do you need?”

You tried to take a deep breath and almost succeeded. Wiping the tears off of your face, you said, “A ride to work.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “You’re…you’re still gonna go to work?”

You shrugged helplessly, “Where else am I gonna go?”

He was at a total loss, “I mean, I…I can bring you to work. I just feel like, I don’t know, like maybe we should…” he didn’t know how he wanted to end that sentence.

You shook your head at him, your breathing starting to even out a bit, “It’s fine. Really. I promise,” you propped your elbows on the table and rested your head against your fingertips for a moment, “Whenever he gets like this, he’s always cooled off by the time I get home.”

“Is that what happened last night?” it wasn’t his business but he couldn’t not ask.

You nodded, not able to look him in the eye as you did, “Yea.”

His heart broke for you, “I get it if you don’t wanna stay with me. But really, we should find you somewhere else to crash. I can ask—”

“Juice,” you reached across the table and gently took hold of his forearm, thumb tracing back and forth as you spoke, “it’ll be fine. I know how to handle this. Really,” the frown on his face almost made you backpedal, but you knew that staying away wasn’t going to make things any better for you at home, “Please, right now, I just need a ride to work.”

He hated it, but he wasn’t going to tell you no, either, “Okay.”

You gave his arm a light squeeze, “Okay.”

When he parked outside of the diner, you saw that he went to get off of his motorcycle and go in with you. Handing him your helmet, you tried to stop him, “You don’t have to go in with me, Juice, really. It’s fine.”

“It didn’t sound fine,” he tried not to sound confrontational at all.

“I know,” you couldn’t really argue his point—he was right, “But I got it under control, okay?”

He wasn’t looking for an argument, but he couldn’t pretend that anything about the situation was sitting right with him, “You’ll call me if anything happens?”

You couldn’t remember the last time it felt like someone cared so much, “I will,” putting your arms around him, you wrapped him in a tight hug, like if you held him close enough to you that the rest of it all would just fall away, “I’m sorry, Juice, for all of this. But thank you.”

He tucked his chin against your shoulder, wishing that he could just scoop you up and whisk you away, “You don’t gotta apologize. Just, you know, be safe, alright?”

You could feel it in the way that he held you that he didn’t want to let go, “I will.”

Peeling yourself away from him, you made your way towards the diner. As you reached the door, you turned back to Juice, who was in the same spot, same position as when you’d walked away. For a moment you thought that he really was just going to get off his bike and stay with you for your entire shift. You appreciated his concern, not sure what to do with it. You offered up a small wave to him before entering the building, leaving the both of you to wonder how things were going to play out, leaving both of you to wonder about it alone.

Juice didn’t see you for a few days after that. He wanted to call, but he had a hunch that it might just make things worse for you. He showed up at the diner every day around the time that he would usually see you there, but there was always someone else working. He asked the other waitress that he saw around a lot if she had seen you or heard from you, but she didn’t give him anything. He understood why, but he wished that she would’ve told him something.

He showed up again, knowing that if he didn’t see you there tonight, that he would leave and go to your house himself, consequences be damned. It wasn’t like you to be gone for so long. He took a deep breath as he walked to the door. He was already looking through the glass paneling of it for you before he opened the door and stepped inside. His heart dropped into his stomach when he didn’t see you behind the counter. He was about to turn on his heel and take off when the door to the kitchen swung open, and out you strode with a tray held above your head. You had a smile stitched onto your face as you walked up to the table of customers you were serving, but Juice could see it in your eyes that it was fake. He was relieved to see you, but the knot in his stomach persisted as he wondered where you’d been, what had happened to you.

He sat down at the counter and quietly waited for you to come back over. You were so zoned out, just trying to get through the motions, that you almost didn’t recognize that it was him sitting there. You saw a person in your peripheral, so you instinctively grabbed a menu and got ready to do the usual customer service spiel. However, when you stopped in front of him and finally looked at him, your heart stopped in your chest for a moment.

“Juice,” you set the menu down, not sure what to say, “hey.”

His eyes searched yours intently, looking for something that he wasn’t finding, “Hey. How…how are you?”

You nodded, fiddling with the towel that was draped over your shoulder, “I’m okay. You?”

He sounded so small as he said, “I’ve been worried about you.”

You frowned, not because you were upset with him, but because you were upset with yourself, “I’m sorry.”

He immediately shook his head, “No, no, don’t be. I just…you weren’t here. I wanted to call you but I didn’t know…”

You leaned on your side of the counter, offering a shrug because you didn’t know what else to do, “I wish I had a good answer. Things just, you know, got a little messy.”

“But you’re okay?”

You didn’t want to break his heart by telling him the truth, so you nodded, “Yea, I’m okay,” reaching across the counter, you placed your hand over his, interlocking your fingers to give his hand a squeeze, “Thank you.”

Looking down, you both saw the same thing at the same time. Your sleeve slid up when you reached across, revealing bruises all in different phases of healing dotting your forearm. Juice knew those types of bruises only came from someone grabbing onto you with some serious force. His heart plummeted as he wondered what bruises you had that he couldn’t see.

You quickly pulled your hand back to you, pushing your sleeves down as far as they could go, “Juice, don’t—”

“Did he do that to you?” he sounded fairly calm despite the rage that was bubbling up inside of him.

“I’m not talking about this here,” you shook your head, feeling your body starting to tremble as you thought back on all of it.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he was desperately trying to keep himself in check, not wanting to scare you more than you already were, but he was already having racing thoughts about what he was going to do to the person who left those marks on you, “Just tell me: did he do that to you?”

You could see the anger in him and while it should’ve scared you, it didn’t. You found yourself nodding as you tried to steady your trembling hands. You didn’t know what was going to happen next, but you could feel it in your gut that this was going to be a conversation that changed everything.

“How much longer on your shift?” he asked.

You shook your head, trying to sound as normal as possible, “Only about another hour or so. I started early today so…”

He nodded, “Okay,” he paused, “You…you can’t go back to him tonight.”

“Juice, I—”

“You can’t,” he sounded desperate.

Your lip quivered, “Where am I gonna go?”

“You can stay with me until we figure it out, okay?”

“Okay.”

He nodded, and that was the last that the two of you talked about it. You tried your hardest to slip back into your work persona but it wasn’t easy. You poured Juice a cup of coffee before going off and taking care of the other customers. You felt Juice watching you as you made your rounds. He held onto the coffee mug in front of him but he didn’t take a single sip, mind racing.

When it came time for you to clock out, you almost didn’t want to. Juice stood up from his spot at the counter, and the certainty that he carried himself with gave you some reassurance. You gathered up your things, said goodbye to the other staff who were there, and then quietly followed Juice out to his bike.

Neither of you said anything as you got onto the bike behind him. To think that it wasn’t long ago at all that you’d never even come close to a motorcycle, but now settling in behind Juice felt second-nature to you. It was a tiny bit of comfort in the midst of the worry clouding your mind.

It wasn’t long before he rolled into his driveway. You felt frozen on the bike, and if he didn’t gently clasp his hands over yours, you weren’t sure if you would’ve had it in you to move. You managed it, though. You followed him up the front steps of his house, standing silently as he unlocked the front door and held it open for you to walk in before him.

Looking around, you supposed that his place was about what you had expected. You never gave much thought to what Juice’s house looked like, but it was nice enough. Sparse, sort of what you’d expect from a single man living on his own. It was clean, organized. You were sure that under different circumstances you would’ve felt comfortable there.

Juice gave you a quick tour, pointing out the guest room, the bathroom, and where he kept stuff in the kitchen in case you got hungry. You assumed your stomach would be riddled with too many knots to eat, but you appreciated the gesture.

“You can shower if you want,” he felt bad leaving you but it wasn’t going to be for too long, “Anything here is yours, alright?”

“Alright,” you nodded, twisting your hands nervously.

“I won’t be gone that long. Promise. And I can, I can grab you some of your stuff if you want?”

You nodded, not sure what else to do at that point, “Okay.”

He gently pulled you into a hug, not wanting to scare you or hurt your further, “You’re gonna be fine. I got you.”

That was the last thing that he said before taking back off out the door. You watched from the front window as he called someone on the phone, not that you could hear what was being said. In the blink of an eye Juice was on the back of his bike and taking off down the road, leaving you there to wait for whatever came next.

You did a little snooping around his house, just to keep yourself busy more than anything. You didn’t find anything all that concerning. You contemplated cashing in on the, “What’s mine is yours,” sentiment when you found one of his week stashes, but you refrained. It might’ve done the trick to calm your frayed nerves, though.

You wanted to shower, to wash off everything that you had been thinking and feeling since Juice walked into the diner. But you didn’t want to shower just to have to change back into your work clothes. So, instead, after doing some snooping, then trying and failing to watch something on TV, you made your way to the guest room that Juice had pointed out.

You laid down on top of the comforter, resting your phone on the pillow next to your head so that you wouldn’t miss a call or a text from Juice. You weren’t sure what he would even say, what was even happening, but you knew that you couldn’t afford to miss anything.

At some point you must’ve fallen asleep, but you didn’t remember doing so. You didn’t even remember your eyes starting to feel heavy. But you were woken up some time later by the feeling of the mattress dipping next to you. Your eyes flew open and you shot upright, fumbling to brace yourself.

Juice was sitting there, looking exhausted and guilty for not only waking you up, but for scaring you. The ends of his mouth lifted into the smallest smile you’d ever seen on him, one that was tired and apologetic.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You shook your head, trying to get your heartrate and breathing back under control, “It’s okay,” looking at him a little closer, you realized that he wasn’t in the same clothes that he left in, and that he smelled like body wash, like he’d just gotten out of the shower, “What happened?”

“You’re safe,” he nodded, voice still soft.

You were comforted but also conflicted, “Juice, what—”

Even though he cut you off, his voice was still gentle, “He’s not going to hurt you ever again,” he nodded, resting his hand gently on your leg, “You’re safe.”

Tears sprung into your eyes again as you nodded, trembling as you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder. Your body shook as you started to cry, and Juice did the only thing he knew how to do and he moved closer to you so that he could hold onto you. You gripped tightly onto the fabric of his t-shirt, balling the fabric up in your hands as you pulled yourself as close to him as you could.

Minutes passed by until the both of you lost track of them. It was long enough for you to soak Juice’s shirt in tears, not that he minded at all. He’d hold you for days if that was what you needed. He was fully prepared to do that. He also understood if you pulled away and decided that you couldn’t ever look him in the eyes again. He wasn’t quite as prepared for that, but he knew it could be a possibility.

When you finally pulled away to wipe the last of the tears from your face, Juice prepared himself for the fallout of it all. He waited for you to look at him, and when you did, he had no idea what to make of the look he saw in your eyes.

“Do you need anything?” he asked, “I can go get you—”

“No,” you shook your head, grabbing his hand, “please, stay with me.”

He felt the tension melt out of him as he nodded, “Okay, yea, of course.”

You collapsed back against the mattress and pillow, lying on your side so that you were facing Juice. He scooted closer to you on the bed, his face only an inch or so away from yours. He wanted to reach out and hold you, pull you closer, but he didn’t want to push things too far. Reaching out, you rested your palm against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. In turn, he placed his hand lightly on your hip, not noticing or caring that you were still in your clothes from earlier. He watched as your eyes slowly started to flutter shut. You wanted to say thank you, and he wanted to promise you that nothing would ever hurt you ever again, but neither of you said anything. Instead, you both drifted closer on the mattress until you were chest to chest, legs tangled. Even though you knew you weren’t going to actually fall asleep, it was the most peaceful that you’d felt in a long time.

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

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