#my fanfiction ; juice ortiz | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

narcolini · 1 year

Text

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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marleyelona · 11 days

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RIDE OR DIE (THE PRESIDENT'S DAUGHTER)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sons of Anarchy. All rights go to Kurt Sutter, FX and any others that made this amazing show possible. I do, however, own my character, Letitia Morrow, and any other OCs I might add in the future, along with their backstories and their storylines within the show.

GRAPHICS: I MAKE the gifs that are used throughout this book. On occasion I will use gifs I find on google, which I will clarify. Any gifs I haven't made, all rights of those should go to the rightful creators. I also DO the aesthetics, covers, tags and trailers that are made. Please do not steal them. HOWEVER most of the images you see in this book are made by A.I imaging unless stated otherwise.

WARNING (Mature Audience Only)⚠️: violence, murder, gore, coarse language, mental health issues, domestic violence, drug and alcohol use, and detailed sex scenes will appear in this book. If any of these are a trigger for you, please take caution if you decide to continue.

[ RIDE OR DIE! ]

Prologue

A Trunk Full of Problems

[Pre-Season One]

" There are two sides to my daughter; the angelic side of her mother and the devious side of me. And you never know which side you're gonna get from one moment to the next. She can switch just like that. "

~ CLAY MORROW to JUICE ORTIZ

☆《》¤

CAST

Emmy Rossum as Letitia Morrow

Penn Badgley as Lewis Mckenna

☆《》¤

TRIGGER WARNING⚠️: Mentions of domestic abuse, a shooting, minor gore and some coarse language.

☆《》¤

LETTY'S CAR

☆《》¤

LETTY'S OUTFIT

☆《》¤

LETTY'S TATTOOS

☆《》¤

A TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD LETITIA MORROW sped down the highway so fast if she took a wide corner her car would most likely turn over. Apart of her was dreading seeing the 'Welcome to Charming' sign. Letty or Lett, as she was called by many of the small town's residences, speed increased, while tears streamed down her beaten and bruised face. A dark purplish bruise hung under her left eye, her bright cherry lips had grown two sizes too big, as blood oozed out of the corner of her mouth.

Pressing her foot down on the gas, made her engine let out a loud roar, as a sob escaped her lips when she aggressively rubbed her blood stained hands onto her ripped jeans. Her tears continued to flow like a tap, as the memories of the night prior flashed through her mind like an old movie projector.

A blood curdling scream echoed in her ears, as she gasped, her eyes shot wide open at the sight of a car inches away from colliding with her front bumper, their bright head lights shinning into her eyes, almost blinding the brunette.

Her shaky hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, as she turned it, managing to dodge the oncoming car without damaging her beautiful mustang - Thank God or her dad would have killed her.

The car was in fact her baby. She received him on her sixteenth birthday from her father, who just so happened to be the President of Samcro, Clay Morrow.

Her father and her had a complicated relationship, childhood worth of resentment hung heavy for Letty, and she was just as stubborn as him, so any chance she got, she liked to remind him how much he wasn't there for her growing up. Sometimes they were too similar, because of this, they constantly butted heads. But at the end of the day they loved each other deeply and were very protective over one another - they would quite literally kill for each other.

Admittedly, it had been a few years since Letty had been back to Charming, she had moved pretty quickly after she graduated from high school, not wanting to end up some Sons' old lady like Gemma. God, she loved that woman like a mother, but she did not want to turn out like her.

Gemma and Letty had a close relationship. Letty's mother died in 1987 during an emergency c-section. And when her father married Gemma, she became mum to her, as she had helped raise her pretty much since birth, making her the woman she is today.

Gemma was the one person Letty was worried to see, as she headed towards the club house. After she left, they had talked on the phone a few times here and there, but it wasn't the same. Gemma didn't fully support her leaving town, so she wasn't excited about the lecture she would mostly definitely receive when they came face to face again after three years.

Her eyes travelled to the back seat of her car at the many bags she stuffed inside, knowing she couldn't return to her house in Los Angeles, not after what happened the night prior with her boyfriend of three years, who she met during her freshman year of college, where she went onto complete a diploma in nursing.

That was probably the hardest thing about her decision to race back home to Charming, having to quit a job she loved with people she loved. But she was sure she'd be able to pick up a nursing job at the hospital easy, as they always seem to be short staffed.

As she passed the out dated 'Welcome to Charming' sign, which hadn't been updated since she was born, maybe even longer, a cold chill ran down her spine. She wonder what the small town of Charming would have in stall for this next chapter of her life. Because one thing was for sure, Charming was never boring, there was always something happening, whether it was good or bad that was up for interpretation.

Sure, she was happy to see her old friends and family. There was Jax and Opie, who were like her older brothers growing up. Before she had left she got pretty close with Opie's wife Donna, while Opie was inside. Donna actually helped Letty look for colleges far away from Charming and Samcro, thinking if she couldn't get out of the crippling town herself and away from the toxicity of the club, she'd want someone to, who else more deserving than the sweetheart that was Letty Morrow.

She'd love to see all the boys again. Chibs, Bobby, Tig and Piney were all in the waiting room of the maternity ward when Letita Loraine Morrow was brought into this world. They all actually got kicked out for smoking a couple fat cigars. A story that was continuously told throughout her life, the boys thought it was pretty funny, mainly trying to shine some light on the day they lost a good woman, Loraine Morrow, the most caring woman you'd ever meet, a trait her daughter inherited.

Letty was close with them all, but Chibs was like a second father to her, so even when her dad wasn't around much when she was a kid, Chibs was there to fill that emptiness in her heart.

Piney was someone she loved to call her crazy grandpa, she had actually went to calling him Pops or Poppy at a young age.

And Bobby and Tig were like her eccentrically crazy uncles that would willingly get her plastered, partying right into the night together - she loved them to death.

As Letty finally pulled into Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair Shop, that was used as a front for their motorcycle club's dealings, she gave herself a small pep talk inside her head, 'It's going to be okay. Sure, you haven't seen most of these people in years, but you got this. It'll be fine'. In fact, she was so deep in her own thoughts and still pretty hysterical, that she didn't realise how far she actually drove into the large compound and before she knew it...BANG!

☆《》¤

A loud CRASH! Followed by a continuous horn caught the Sons' attention from inside the Chapel. Like any other day, the boys sat around the table discussing current business, before they were oh-so-rudely interrupted.

Instantly, they were all on their feet, their senses on high alert, because when you were apart of a motorcycle club that did questionable dealings, you should always expect the worst. Each member had a hand clamped around their gun that sat on their hips; ready to draw it if need be.

Clay Morrow held up a hand, signalling from them all to stay put. Placing a finger to his lips, he motioned with his head for them to quietly follow him outside.

Making it outside and around the back of the large compound, they all noticed the familiar red mustang, which had clearly crashed into the garage sliding door.

"Jesus Christ!" Clay hissed under his breath, running hand through his white-blonde hair, as he released his grip from his glock. Jax Teller, Chibs Telford, Bobby Munson, Piney Winston, Tig Trager and Opie Winston, followed suit, relaxing slightly. Although, both Juice Ortiz and Half-Sack Epps were still clearly on high alert - what the hell was going on?

Concern and worry had washed over the older members' faces, Clay being the first one to rush over to the car. But all of them sighed in relief when the driver's side door opened and a girl with long, brown, curly hair stepped out of the vehicle. Juice and Half-sack had held back; having no idea what was happening.

"Daddy!" Letty immediately broke down at the sight of her father, instantly running into his arms and soaking his chest with tears, as she sobbed. And as Juice watched the scene unfold, he felt a small pang in his heart for the poor girl.

Clay pulled back, holding the woman at arms length, as he cupped her beautiful face. And once Juice finally got a good look at her features, his jaw almost hit the floor. She was hot. No, not hot...Gorgeous. He honestly thought she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his whole life. And he had been with his fair share of beautiful women, but not one of them held a candle to Letty Morrow.

"Honey, what happened--?" Clay started to ask, before his face fell, noticing the state she was in and the bruises that scattered her entire body, not just her face. "Did he beat you again?" Clay's whole face turned murderous, as he tightly gripped his daughter's shoulders, which made her wince in pain.

All the girl managed was a nod of her head, which only angered Clay more.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him!" the man clenched his fists, as he started to storm towards his bike, but Letty was quick to grab his arm.

"No! You're not going anywhere," she declared, sending her father a stern look.

Yanking his arm back, he glared at his only daughter, "Don't tell me what I'm gonna fucking do. He put his hands on you, baby!"

"I understand that," she said, matching his tone. If the situation wasn't so serious the boys would of had a laugh at how quickly father and daughter had started arguing. It was always said, 'You can't have Clay and Letty in the same room for too long or a storm would brew'.

Clay went to open his mouth to argue once again, but Letty cut him off and continued with what she was saying, "That's why I took care of it," she said in a tone of voice that gave nothing away, her face even remained solemn, so you couldn't even read her facial expressions to guess what she meant by that statement.

Clay furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "What does that even mean?" he slightly snapped, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"I came here because I need your help," she stated, making her way over to her car, Clay and the boys followed after her as she started to unlock her boot. Pulling the door open, the boys leaned over to look inside and their eyes widened at the sight of a man all tied up with a gun shot wound on his lower region, his blood staining the lining of the boot.

"You stupid fucking bitch!" Lewis Mckenna hissed, glaring bloody murder at his girlfriend of three years, as he thrusted around, trying to get free from the tight binds. "You actually fucking shot me! Oh, my God, you shot me in the dick!" he cried, looking down at his wounded genitals that oozed with blood.

While amusement was clear on the older members' faces, Juice and Half-Sack were watching on, completely confused, but also very intrigued, watching this all play out like it was a brand new movie at the cinemas. All they were missing was popcorn.

"And I should of done worse, you fucking cock sucker!" she sneered, shooting daggers with her eyes at her latest ex-boyfriend.

A growl sounded from the back of Lewis' throat, as his glared up at her hatefully, "I'm going to fucking kill, you crazy bitch--!"

The guy's threat was cut short by an elbow to the face, knocking him out cold, "That's enough out of," Jax smirked, owner of said elbow, earning him a chuckle from the girl that was basically his sister, they gave each other enough wedgies growing up to justify that.

"As you can see..." she said to her father, putting on her best, 'I'm sweet and innocent' look "...I fucked up."

"Yeah, you should of went for the head," Clay hissed, looking at the man in complete disgust, like he was the piece of gum under his shoe.

"I thought it showed creativity," Letty pouted like a five year old who was just refused ice cream for dinner, crossing her arms over her chest. "So sue me," she shrugged nonchalantly.

"I thought it was pretty creative, darlin'," Tig stated with that somewhat sinister smirk of his. "Take away a man's equipment -Worse and most painful punishment there is."

"Thanks, Tigga," she said, sending the man a kind smile. Her nickname for Tig came from when she was a toddler and just learning to say a few words here and there, so when Tig tried to teach her his name or his nickname, she kept just getting excited repeatedly yelling her favourite cartoon character's name and the nickname just stuck ever since.

Clay shot his Sergeant in Arms a glare, "Don't encourage her," he scolded.

Tig raised his hands in mock-surrender, "Hey! She's your daughter."

Clay's glare sharpened at his words, making him take a step back, his hands still raised, "That's all I'm saying."

"Letty?!" the voice of Gemma Teller-Morrow sounded from behind the girl. The woman had stepped out of the office to investigate what the commotion was all about, she didn't recognise the woman at first, squinting her eyes, as she blocked out the sun's UV rays with her hand. And that's when she saw it, the face she hadn't seen in nearly three whole years. One she'd recognise from a mile away.

Letty was quick to whip her head around and a smile immediately graced her face as she spotted Gemma striding over to her in a quick pace.

"Well, well, well, look at what the cat dragged in," chuckled Gemma, as she reached the girl, looking at her fondly.

"Gemma," Letty beamed, bringing the woman into a hug.

"Gemma?" the woman frowned in confusion as they parted. "What happened to Mum?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side, as she raised an eyebrow, staring the girl down. "Been gone too long, you forgot who raised your skinny ass," she teased, cupping the girl's chin as she gave her face a playful shake. "Huh?"

Letty chuckled, shaking her head amusingly, "Never."

Gemma smiled, wrapping her arm around her step-daughter's shoulders, before leading her back over to her car and examined the contents of her boot, a hum leaving her lips, "This is the boyfriend I'm guessing?"

"Ex-boyfriend," Letty corrected.

"Well, they can't say you don't know how to make an entrance."

"Well, you know..." she said, shrugging nonchalantly. "I gotta keep the old man on his toes," she said, flashing her father a cheeky smirk, as she sent him a wink, earning a playful glare in response.

Gemma let out a loud chuckle, snapping her head back in amusement, "Well, what do you say, why don't we leave the boys to clean up this mess you created, and you and I grab a cuppa and catch up?" she asked, as she started to guide the girl back over to her father's office. "It's been so long. I've missed you around here, baby!" Gemma beamed happily, as she rubbed her shoulders - glad her daughter was back.

"Yeah, I've missed you guys, too," Letty said, and it was true, she did. She never wanted to leave the people. She wanted to leave the club and small town life behind.

Meanwhile, Juice was in a hypnotic state, his eyes watching Letty closely as she walked away, he was practically drooling over her, "She's beautiful, isn't she?" he whispered to Half-Sack in a monotone voice. Juice didn't think about who was around at that moment, as the words slipped from his lips.

"Yeah," Half-Sack rapidly nodded his head in agreement, while he was actually drooling over her and had to readjust the spring in his jeans. "Hard to think she came from Clay," he chuckled.

"Hey!" Clay whacked both the zombie like boys on the back of the head.

"Ow!" they both hissed simultaneously, rubbing the back of their heads.

"Both of your ugly mugs better not be thinking what I think your thinking about," he warned, pointing a stern finger in their faces.

"Hell no, sir" Half-Sack immediately uttered, his eyes awkwardly finding his feet when he looked away from the girl, not knowing where else to look in the mean time.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Clay shot back with narrowed eyes.

"Damn," Juice whistled, his eyes still locked on the girl, who was now inside, sipping a coffee as she talked with Gemma, still visible through the window, as he remained in his hypnotic state.

"Oh, Juicy Boy," Tig chuckled amusingly, coming over to wrap his arm over the boy's shoulders, giving him a light pat. "She's gonna chew you up and spit you out."

"Ain't that the truth," Opie agreed, shaking his head in amusement - Juice could not handle a girl like Letty Morrow, not in the slightest. Stronger men have tried and let's just say, it didn't end well for them.

Clay joyfully chuckled, finding the boy's crush on his daughter kind of hilarious, knowing she had no interest in dating a Son. He would have applied the rule when she turned eighteen himself, but she had already stated she would never date one of his 'brothers' way before that.

"There are two sides to my daughter; the angelic side of her mother and the devious side of me. And you never know what side you're gonna get from one moment to the next. She can switch just like that," he said, clicking his fingers together, as a sinister smirk tugged at the corner his lips. "So, this should be fun to watch, aye, boys?" he mocked, as they all roared with laughter.

Poor Juice had no idea what he was getting himself into; swooning over the President's daughter.

☆《》¤

Originally Published on Wattpad on the 10/03/2024

A/N:

Please not, all Images were created by Bing's AI generator. Although, the title tag at the top was made by me.

Let me know what you thought of the Prologue to my Sons of Anarchy Fanfiction - Ride or Die.

Marley 😁

Words: 3182

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ravennaortiz · 1 month

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I totally didn't wake up at midnight with a idea for a story based off of letters and hurt my own feelings in the process 🤣. Soooo one hour later I have a mood board, two new OCs and have quite a lot jotted down so I can go to bed and wake up for work at 4am.

Currently still untitled but will be a follow up to Ratboys story in my Raising Girls Series that will be out this weekend.

#sons of anarchy #ravennasmasterlist #ravennas rambles #when inspiration hits you gotta wake up and write #juice ortiz #soa fanfiction #ratboy sons of anarchy #soa moodboard #my wips #soa fanfic #soa #sons of anarchy juice #imagine juice #juice fanfic #soa ratboy #juice fanfiction #juice ortiz fanfiction

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ashes-writing · 2 years

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p h o n e l i n e s | sons of anarchy ; j.ortiz

|| taglist,babes + req rules + send ?s + masterlist + kinktober masterlist ||

** graphics made by me with help from google images /pinterest. the list I'm using for this provided by @the-purity-pen, please do go check out their writing and a huge thanks to them for allowing the prompts to be used. **

𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚝𝚠𝚘 ; 𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚡

Summary ;

--- Juice really, really misses you.

Pairing ;

Juice Ortiz x fem!reader.

--- no physical description given beyond having female parts.

Warnings ;

--- minors, abso-fuckin-lutely not. In addition to the prior, masturbation, dirty talk, body fluids, fluff, petnames, masturbation in a semi public place, risky sex,

Taglist ;

--- the people listed below are the only ones I have on my sons of anarchy taglist. If you'd like to be added, click the little link up top.

@beardedbarba

@chieflawyerpastatoad

You’ve been waiting by the phone all day. It’s around midnight now and you’ve nearly given up on the hope of Juice getting a chance to call you tonight. You’re settled into bed in his apartment and you’re trying to fall asleep when your cell phone starts to ring. Your arm shoots out and you answer on the second ring.

“Baby girl. I didn’t wake you up, did I?” Juice has to talk louder in the phone because the Arizona chapter is loud as hell right now and he can barely hear himself think, he knows you can’t possibly hear him.

“No.” you laugh softly. “I miss you.”

“Only two more days, princess.” Juice leans against the wall at the back of the bar but the noise is making it harder to hear you, so he steps into the bathroom, finding himself a stall. He can hear you better now, the quiet creak of the mattress as you roll around in bed. And the sound has him calling to mind other reasons the bed would be creaking if he were there with you.

“It feels like forever.” you mumble softly, yawning out the words as you roll over onto your stomach and press your finger to your lips to reach out and press your fingertip against the picture of you and Juice that sits on the nightstand. “Can’t sleep when you’re gone cos you’re not holdin me, I can’t hear you start mumbling in your sleep.”

The statement has Juice chuckling quietly as he grins. A hand rakes over the tattooed side of his head and he bites his lip. “I’m not that bad, baby girl.”

“You are! And now I’m used to it.” you pout to yourself a little in the darkened bedroom, hesitating for a second or two before finally blurting out, “Miss going to sleep with your cock inside me too. I’ve been cranky this week.”

Juice bites back a groan, his cock getting hard in seconds. “Baby, fuck. Are you tryin to kill me?” he questions, pout playing at his lips as he props his foot against the stall door behind him, leaning back against it. His hand dips down, ghosting over the way he’s straining even harder at his jeans because he’s picturing it now, you’re all sprawled out in his bed, wearing one of his tank tops like you always do and he can imagine himself there, leaning down over you from behind, his hands skimming your sides and his lips dancing across the back of your neck and across your shoulders. “I’m gonna take care of that when I get home.” he promises, breath hitching as he speaks because he’s started to really palm himself through his jeans and now, his hips are bucking upwards against his hand as if he can feel the way your velvety walls wrap around his cock and take him so well every time he’s inside you.

You can hear the exact second his voice drops and gets huskier.. The breathy panting that follows on his end of the line have you whimpering quietly as you ask softly, “What are you doing, baby?”

“Thinkin about you.” Juice answers, working the zipper to his jeans down, pulling his cock out. He steps closer to the toilet, one arm out ahead of him so he can brace the wall. His other hand circles his thick cock, giving a lazy pump as he cradles his cell phone between his ear and shoulder. “Hey, baby girl?”

“Mhm?” you’ve rolled onto your back, your hands wandering over your body because you’re picturing him, more to the point, what he’d be doing if he was there with you right now, and you’re so wet your dripping, the flimsy material of your favorite red panties soaked. Your hand settles against your cunt and you press the heel of your hand against your clit, the pressure of the touch drawing a needy whine out of you that has him swearing under his breath on the other end of the line. He clears his throat and asks in a shaky gasp, “What are you wearin?”

“Your black tank top… That one pair of red panties with the chili peppers all over them.” you hiss out as you slip your fingers into your panties, letting them glide over your throbbing sex. Juice tightens his fist around his cock, pumping a little faster. “Fuck, fuck.. Fuck, baby girl..” he growls out quietly, “Can’t wait til there’s not a phone between us anymore, I wanna bury my cock so deep inside you.”

“I can’t wait til you’re buried deep inside me..” you whine out, back arching upward as your hips try to rock into the way your fingers work in and out of your cunt. “Baby?” you whimper, the coil in your stomach building at a steady pace. Juice’s breath catches in his throat, “Slow down, princess… Y’know if I was there I’d fuck you slower than that.” he coaxes, speaking up again, “Gonna fill you so full.”

“Fuck.” you whine, your finger grazing against your clit in a semi circle, drawing a louder moan out of you as you tilt your hips upward slightly, your fingers making contact with the spongy softness of your own g-spot as you work them in a come hither motion to keep contact. Your breath catches in your throat, your stomach is coiled just a little tighter. Your orgasm is close, you’re chasing it desperately but somehow, your fingers don’t feel quite as good as his cock.

“Doesn’t feel the same, baby.” you gasp out, Juice agreeing in a breathy pant as his hand pumps up and down, tight as he can squeeze but it still feels nothing like the way being buried inside you feels. “Two more days, princess. That’s not -ah, oh fuck, getting closer,” he leans his head back and his eyes flutter open and closed, heavy lidded as he imagines exactly what he’s going to do to you the second he’s home again, “It’s not so bad.” he whines out, needy. Desperate. You moan his name over and over, your orgasm shattering through, your juices coating your fingers.

“Fuck.” Juice is imagining the way you’d be pinned beneath him, fucked out gleam in your eyes, clinging to him or melted against him and letting him fuck into you until he’s pushed over the edge for himself. “Baby, baby girl, fuck. Fuck.” he growls out as his cock spasms and he slumps back a little, ragged breaths as he fucks into his hand clumsily, his seed leaking down into the bowl. He chuckles quietly after a few seconds. “I can’t wait to be home, princess. Miss you so fuckin much.”

“I miss you too, baby.”

#juice ortiz #juice ortiz smut #juice ortiz imagine #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz x fem!reader #<- minors I thinketh the fuck not. a general warning for all my adult content.#-> please read all warnings before reading.#<- fem reader ; vague description ; (female parts)#tppkinktober2022 #tppkinktober22 #kinktober22 #kinktober 2022 #kinktober 22

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loveinkfanfics · 1 year

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She left him wondering what was an exciting story to tell in her book. He bet she had all kinds of them since she worked with dead people and all. "Will do," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Nice to meet you, Angel. "Angela opened her mouth to correct him then decided against it. She didn't mind the way the nickname sounded coming from the handsome man's lips. "You too, Juice. You guys have my number if you need anything else, right? ""Maybe I'll take it down again,"

Omg yes! I love this! Thank you @juiceortiz!!! 🥰🥰 Taking it waaaay back to the first chapter of “Hands All Over”! :)

Writing wise, I was still finding my voice and still flip-flopping between POV mid-paragraph, which I sometimes miss doing but know it can get really confusing (as a reviewer pointed out). Also, personal life wise, I started this story in 2011 (it took me awhile to work up the nerve to publish it to Fanfiction.net in 2012) after my grandmother, who I was very close to, passed away. One if my favorite authors in another fandom (the Fast and the Furious) started posting a Sons of Anarchy fic, and I kept getting the notifications for updates. SOA Seasons 1-3 were streaming free and because I loved her writing (big shout out to xsparklesthemagicalunicornx and her SOA fic “Stylized Violence”), I decided to give it a chance so I could at least understand the characters in her fic. I fell in love. The sense of family (at least in the first season) and the love between the brothers was just what my aching heart needed to get through one of the hardest times in my life. I was obsessed. I binged the first three seasons and bought season 4 just to watch that too…and it brought me back to writing. I had several false starts with this fic with all sorts of situations (starting with Opie/OC, then I fell in love with Juice midway through season 1…it was that smile, damn it). I have PAGES of Juice/OCs that never made it past a few pages and sometimes I go back and read them and smile. It wasn’t until I met a badass mortician with braids in her hair, a great sense of humor, and a toughness about her at my internship at a local Coroner’s office that this idea hit me, and the rest, as they say, is history. Through this story, I’ve “met” some amazing people (readers, authors, etc), and I’m so grateful for it. 💕

But, I digress, this part is Juice and Angela meeting for the very first time! Juice sees this attractive girl who’s also interesting and intrigues him a bit. There’s a mystery about her that kind of draws him in...

He wants to know what story she’s thinking about, wants to hear more about her. Other than Old Ladies, Croweater, and the occasional TM customer, I don’t see Juice as having much time to sit and talk to women. The club is all encompassing, and he’s all about the club. Theo Rossi has mentioned in interviews before that Juice wouldn’t have time to date, and I honestly, don’t think he’s all that far off. The club is everything to him. He doesn’t have a lot of free time. I think Juice is also mildly impressed that Angela’s not fazed by the group of bikers (little does he know, she has her own connection to them in her cousin), and she’s not being overly flirtatious or coming onto them. She’s just going about her business like her boss told her to and brushing off the very weird thing that they’re doing like it is nothing…which to any normal person, digging up a body to use for something that’s definitely not legal would be cause for alarm. Him calling her “Angel” instead of by her full name is also a little test. Will she correct him? Will she let the nickname slide which kind of takes the next step in a sense of familiarity? She doesn’t correct him, which, despite his oblivious ways, is a subtle open door showing she’s interested in some sort of relationship. At least, she’s not shutting him down.

And on Angela’s side, that’s most definitely why she lets the nickname slide. Here’s this sexy biker man who’s giving her this killer smile calling her by a sweet pet name? She’s not about to correct him. Same with the sly way she gave him her number. They’re feeling each other out. Angela was offering her number in the most covert way possible. She knows one of them has the funeral home number, of course they do, but she’s trying to see if Juice wants her number. If he’ll catch on to what she’s offering. And for once, Mr. Oblivious takes advantage of it and takes down her number for himself just so he has it. It’s a bit of a dance for the both of them. Also, Angela’s trying to make herself look a little more mysterious than she is with saying she’s seen “weirder shit” than them exhuming a body. That’s a lie (she tells him so about 40 chapters later in the story). She was playing it cool, trying to look nonchalant and enigmatic…and it worked. ;)

Plus, Angela’s been hurt by biker boys in the past (Esai), so she’s hesitant to go whole hog into it, and Juice hasn’t had a “normal/civilian” girl show interest in him in a long time (that he’s noticed. I’m sure there have been others, Angela’s just a bit more obvious). They both are intrigued by each other because they’re different (if that makes any sense). To Juice’s knowledge at this point, Angela is a non-club-affiliated girl with a stable but weird job that he’s intrigued by (probably from video games and comic books because I’m sure Juice has read his fair share of zombie shit and played all the Resident Evil games). Being Happy’s cousin, Angela is used to a…tougher kind of biker. Sure, she has Kozik to be more light hearted, but she saw him through a dark patch of his life when he was struggling with addiction. Juice with his big goofy grin doesn’t quite exude the same commanding, somewhat intimidating presence as the SAMCRO boys she’s used to, which I think is what makes her more curious and attracted to him too. I mean, who wouldn’t be after being on receiving end of one of his smiles? ;)

Aaaaand I think that’s all I got! 🤣 Sorry for the rambling, but it was insanely fun to explore!!! I haven’t read the first chapter of this story in a LONG time. >.<

THANK YOU for the snippet!!

#this has been one of my favorite things I've done in awhile #juice ortiz #loveink fanfics #Sons of anarchy #soa fanfiction

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magickhajiit · 2 years

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A 📂 for Chibs?

@vulgar-display-of-escapism

Alright continuing with the theme of animals.

In direct contrast to both Tig and Juice, Chibs has never been a dog person or an any sort of animal person really. He’d once been asked to dog sit Juice’s Jack Russel and the trauma still haunts him. Life was stressful enough without a furry creature relying on you every day to feed, walk and play with it, Juice and his idiocy was enough of a handful on its own.

His daughter, from the first few months she could talk to six years old, had continued to begged him for a cat, despite his repeated refusal. He tries not to think about the fact that one of Jimmy’s first moves, when he’d forced Chibs out of Ireland, was to buy his daughter an overpriced Persian kitten , as if that was somehow better than a moggie.

(ok moving onto less depressing territory)

Every year when the fair came to Charming the Sons had shown their faces, it was a good way to build up community support in the times when it was running low. A game that had gained infamy throughout Charming and caused a headache for many of the Sons was Old Duke’s hook a duck. With the impossible objective of hooking three ducks within a minute it had become a legend to folks coming to the travelling fair, Chibs was yet to see anyone manage it.

One year Juice had gotten more than a little tipsy at the clubhouse and decided to ride over to the fairground to finally defeat the ducks (his own words). Chibs had gone along with him to try to keep him in line (Tig in tow laughing his ass off of course). They both watch as Juice slams a five dollar bill on the table demands their best fishing rod. To the surprise of everyone in the tent, alcohol only seemed to improve Juice’s hooking ability and three ducks were soon lined across the table.

Both the Sons and their small audience look up when the stall owner clears his throat, only to see him holding up a plastic bag with a copper-coloured fish swimming around. Juice being drunk on vodka and exhilaration rides behind Chibs on their way back to his house. Chibs spends the ride making sure his passenger doesn’t fall and crack his head open whilst Tig rides behind them, the goldfish bagged, boxed and tied to the back of the bike.

The next morning Juice and Tig were nowhere to be seen but the fish was in his living room swimming around in the newly installed large tank by the couch. Unsurprisingly neither of them had answered the phone that morning.

Chibs had been convinced it wouldn’t last the week, the fairground goldfish when he was a boy certainly hadn’t. His fish had one eye, too large for even its own fat little body. And its scales were a sickly shade like its orange glow had been diluted beyond recognition. As expressionless as fish tended to be this one was an exception, Chibs had never before seen a fish with a resting bitch face. Against all odds the fish had lived, it had apparently made a deal with the reaper.

As much as he whined about it being forced on him Chibs secretly began to grow attached to the fish (dubbed Doris by one of Opie’s kids). So much so that every time it flipped on its back and played dead he ran to it in panic only for it to regain life a moment later.

Fearing Doris would get lonely Chibs had once gone to the local pet shop and picked up some siblings for him. Only to return a few hours later and find them nowhere to be found. With the fish now having a taste for flesh Chibs was sure to stop sticking his fingers in the water.

After the cannibal incident Chibs had once again tried to unload his fish onto Juice only for him to say that he would, but his dog tries to eat any living thing in his house.

He watches Chibs walk away with confusion, hearing him mutter that his dog could, ‘’Bloody well try.’’

#chibs telford #tig trager #juice ortiz #soa #writing #my writing #ask #answered asks #fanfiction writing #headcanon #drabble

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filipfuckingtelford · 8 months

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Broken memories

Juice x OC fanfiction. ANGST.

Warning: mention of death.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Juice woke up and looked around. He couldn't realize where he was, he didn't recognize the room. He sat up in bed and frowned, in fact he couldn't remember anything about himself. Neither his name nor his life. It made him terrified.

The door opened slowly right when he was about to rush outside. The young woman entered the room and looked at Ortiz with pain and worry in her eyes. He was... confused. Juice had no idea who was she and why she had this expression on her face.

"Oh, baby, you woke up" The woman said, relieved and hurried to come closer to him.

"I... Who are you?" Juice moved away. He couldn't understand what was going on and all he could feel was fear.

"Oh, god! Of course, you don't remember me, I'm sorry" The woman stopped and sat down in the chair next to his bed "Juice. You got in the car crash"

"I did?" Juice closed his eyes and saw it for a bare second. Mangled car on the road, police, ambulance. He saw some images but couldn't make any of those stay long enough to remember.

"You did... It's been rough, Juice, but you made it. You were in the hospital for almost a month" The woman continued and looked at him worried "Do you remember any of this?"

Juice shook his head and felt a sharp pain in his temple. "I don't... I... who am I?"

He suddenly realized he had no idea who he was. Not only his name, but anything else. How did he look like, what was he doing, how old was he. Nothing. He was trying to find any memories but it was all dark. He felt so lost and scared. But the woman touched his palm gently and it made him calm down immediately.

"You are Juan Carlos Ortiz, but your friends call you Juice. You are the loyal member of the morotcycle club called Sons of Anarchy" The woman was trying to find words to explain and to not bother him with too much information.

He felt lost, confused and scared. But the words she was telling him brought up some memories... He remembered some faces, leathers with patches. He remembered his own face but what if it was just his imagination? Juice looked around to find a mirror but he only saw his reflection in the dark window. Yes, it was him, Juice Ortiz.

"And who are you?" He asked when the first portion of information was absorbed by his mind. At least now he had something about himself.

"We'll talk about it later" The woman said and gave him a soft smile. "I'll bring you some food. You need to eat and have rest. The memories will come back eventually"

Juice nodded quietly while she stood up and left the room. Soon the woman came back, she brought him some chicken noodles and wanter and left him alone.

While eating he was trying to remember anything else. He could recall some faces, probably other club members as they were all wearing the same leather cuts with same reaper on the back. But he couldn't recall the names. Finally Juice felt his head aching from too much efforts. He laid down on the bed again and soon fell asleep.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Next morning when he woke up, the woman that visited him yesterday came back again with breakfast for him. Juice sat up on the bed and looked at her with a faint smile.

"I remember something" He said, excited.

"Really?" Some glimpse of hope appeared in her eyes.

"Yes. I remember the club, my brothers... I remember... what we were doing" He said. It was such a good feeling, to remember at least anything, but he saw this glipse of hope faiding from woman's eyes and he didn't know why.

She put the plate on the table and sat in the chair next to him.

"I don't remember you..." Juice sighed.

"My name is Y/N, Juice. We were engaged" She said quietly.

"Engaged? I... we love each other?" He frowned and looked at her. Damn, she was beautiful but he really couldn't remember...

"I do love you, Juice. And you... will decide if you will remember me" She gave him a soft smile.

"I..." He felt some worry, some tension in his chest "I want to remember, tell me more"

"About us?" Y/N raised her brow watching him, she didn't want to tire him with too much information.

"Yes... how long have we been together?"

"We knew each other for five years and we were dating for two years" Y/N tried not to show any emotions, only facts.

"Wow... I've been with you for two years and I don't remember anything" Juice felt confused, it seemed impossible. But somehow he trusted her. "When our wedding is supposed to be?"

"It was supposed to be a month ago... You got in a car crash on your way to the wedding" Y/N said, her eyes filled with pain.

"So we did't get married... I'm sorry" Juice sighed. He didn't know what he felt about it.

"It's not your fault Juan Carlos. You will remember eventually and then... if you would still want it, we will get married" Y/N smiled softly "Now eat and have some rest, Juice. You need to recover"

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Y/N came back in the evening to bring him more food. He was sleeping for almost all day and couldn't even tell how he fell asleep.

"I want to remember you" Was the first thing Juice said as soon as Y/N entered the room. "Tell me more about us"

Y/N sat in the chair next to him again and gave him a soft gentle smile "I've came to Charming five years ago and I started working as a mechanic in the Teller Morrow car service. Do you remember what it is?"

"I..." Juicce closed his eyes for a moment and nodded "Yes... This car service is our club's legal business"

"That's right... That is how we met. You were alway so good to me and I fell for you almost at once. But we were both too shy to make the first step" Y/N smiled gently as she was thinking about the very beginning of their relationship "So we... were just friends at first, we've been spending a lot of time together, playing video games, watching movies, just talking about anything in the world"

"How did I make a move finally?" Juice asked quietly.

"Why do you think it was you who made it?" Y/N smirked.

"I..." Juice frowned, trying to remember, but he could only see some brief scenes, nothing more "I just know it was me"

She laughed quietly and nodded slightly "I was you, my love. You are right. It was during the party, we were dancing and you asked me why haven't you ever saw my boyfriend. I told you that I didn't have one. And then you said..."

"I want to be your boyfriend then" Juice said quietly. Suddenly he remembered everything. Her, the way his heart was trembling with affection when they kissed, when he finally knew that she felt the same way about him.

He could remember everything about her and it filled his heart with joy as Juice looked at her. "I remember... you..."

"Oh, my love" Y/N smiled, tears in her eyes, as she leaned closer to him and kissed his lips so soft and genle.

"I love you!" Juice said, smiling "I want to marry you!"

But she pulled away and something in her face changed, something about her changed as she shook her head slightly.

"You can't" She whispered almost inaudibly.

"Why?" Juice couldn't understand but he felt as if something happened, something terrible.

"Because it was not you who got in this car crash, my love... It was me. And I didn't make it" Her words could hardly be heard, her figure was fading.

"No... please, it's not true, I love you..." Juice tried to grab her, hold her, but his palms went through her body. He felt his world crashing, he felt despair filling his heart.

And he woke up. The room was dark and the bed was empty. Their bed where they've spent so many nights together.

He remembered everything. The mangled car, the police, the ambulance and her lifeless body on the road.

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

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roadtogracelandx45 · 2 years

Text

:Prompts List:

I am starting with 50 for now, I may add or change them going forward. but for now these were the ones i had in my notebook. i got all of them off of Pinterest. Some already have names by them but go ahead and request them again if you like the prompt and I can redo them.

Fandoms I write for:

Top Gun Maverick: All

Elvis: Elvis

One Chicago: Kelly Severide, Jay Halstead, Will Halstead, Connor Rhodes

Avengers: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bucky Barnes, Natasha, Clint Barton, Peter Parker

Triple Frontier: Will Miller and Benny Miller

Four Brothers: Bobby Mercer, Jack Mercer

Sons of Anarchy: Jax Teller, Opie Winston, Juice Ortiz, David Hale,

Fast and Furious: Dom Toretto, Roman Peirce, Brian O'Conner, Letty Ortiz

Band of Brothers: All

Twilight: All of the Cullens, Jacob Black and Bella Swan

Harry Potter: All

WWE/TNA/AEW/ ROH : Seth Rollins, Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, Stephanie McMahon, Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Chris Jericho, CM Punk, The Young Bucks, Adam Cole, Bobby Fish, Kyle O'Reilly, Roderick Strong, Chris Sabin, Alex Shelley, Randy Orton, Edge, Christian Cage, Matt Hardy, Jeff Hardy, Hurricane Helms. Mr. Kennedy

Supernatural- Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Cas

The West Wing: Josh Lyman, Sam Seaborn

*****

01 “Oh you think I am cute when I am angry? Well get ready because I am about to be gorgeous.”

Olivia Stewart- Light in The Darkness- Band of Brothers fanfiction

02. “I can’t lose you again. Can’t you see that? I am not strong enough.”

03. “Marry me’

04. “I’m not jealous.”

05. “Kiss my ass.”

06. “Were you ever gonna tell me?”

07. “Excuse you?”

08. “This is all your fault.”

09. “It’s not fair.”

10. “Game Over, you lose.”

11. “Is she always this obnoxious?” “Oh, she is just getting warmed up.”

Ajay Reso- Stronger Than Yesterday series

12. “We don’t need to control them. We need to unleash them.”

13. “It should have never come to this.”

14. “I’m not a lot of people’s favorite person.”

15. “I shouldn’t have wasted 3 years on someone when Russia could have sent me a good bottle of vodka.”

16. “Can we have this conversation when you aren’t upset?”

17. “Come over here and make me, why don’t ya?”

18. “I am tired of being your secret.”

19. “Mess with them, you mess with me.”

20. “I don’t want to sleep alone tonight.”

21. “ I am coming to get you. Stay there.”

22. “Are you safe?” “I, I don’t know.”

23. “This is why I don’t let myself fall in love.”

24. “You are my regret.”

25. “You have to make a choice.”

26. “Put the knife down.”

27. “Jokes on them.”

28. “The way you flirt is shameless.”

29. “With all due respect, I’m going to ignore everything you just said.”

30. “It’s me! It’s me baby! Calm down.”

31. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

32. “Hey, I am here with you. Okay? Always.”

33. “Hold me back.”

34. “You aren’t a bad guy.”

35. “You know we are meant to be.”

36. “Mine.”

37. “Seriously, you are a manchild.”

38. “I get it alright! I fucked up!”

39. “She’s dead! I killed her!”

40. “You smell nice.”

41. “I think I am pregnant.”/ “I am pregnant, not helpless. Stop worrying so much.”

42. “So what if I am jealous? Its not gonna change anything.”

Ryder Winston- Charming Town

43. “You owe me.”

44. “Be careful.” “I always am.”

45. “Take my jacket, it's cold outside.”

46. “I am not some toy you can play with.”

47. “Just play long. Please.’

48. “I did something terrible.’

49. “Don’t hurt the hair on their head.’

50. “I got your back.”

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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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snarkwrites · 3 years

Text

nosy ➼ j. ortiz

➼ Before I even start, I wanted to point out that this content is obvs not meant for minors. Credit to @the-purity-pen for the prompts which can be found [here]. While I won’t make 31.. I hope to at least make 13.

This one..I have no excuse other than just wanting to attempt writing something cute and sweet, a private moment between two people that maybe gets interrupted by outsiders. This one is actually safe for the kiddos, so y’all can stick around. Given that it’s totally SFW, it’s not that long either. Sorry in advance.

┇ᵖʳᵒᵐᵖᵗ ┇

almost getting caught

┇ʷᵃʳⁿᶦⁿᵍ ┇

Totally SFW. Hints of two people dating but choosing to keep it private. There’s a mention of Juice getting a boner, and there’s a makeout in a supply closet, but beyond this, I feel it’s safe for minors... This time.

┇ᶜʰᵃʳᵃᶜᵗᵉʳ | ᶠᵃⁿᵈᵒᵐ | ᵖᵃᶦʳᶦⁿᵍ┇

Juice Ortiz & Girlfriend!Reader, Sons of Anarchy ┇ᵗᵃᵍᵍᶦⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ᵇᵃᵇᵉˢ;┇

@chasingeverybreakingwave

@kyleoreillysknee

@sassymox

@twistnet

┇ˡᶦⁿᵏˢ┇

┇everything you’re looking for, right here ┇

Arms circle around your waist and you’re pulled into the storage room off the side of the garage before you even really have a chance to react. You’re just about to scream but Juice’s tongue circles the shell of your ear as he chuckles against it. “It’s just me, baby girl. Relax.”

You turn to face him and lightly smack his muscular chest. “You jerk! You better be glad I didn’t scream just now.”

He chuckles and his eyes roam over you, filled with mischief. “What if I like when you scream, huh?”

“Ju-uice, behave! We’re both on the clock right now, baby!” you say it through a series of quiet giggles as his hands smooth over your sides and eventually, they settle on your hips. He pulls you against him completely and his mouth crashes against your own, any protest you may have made swallowed up in a deep and needy kiss. As the kiss breaks he mutters huskily against your lips that he can’t quit, that you’re an addiction and he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep what’s going on between the two of you hush-hush.

His words have you grinning and you melt against him as you catch your breath. Your fingers dance over smooth leather and you gaze up at him, biting your lip.

“I’m being serious, baby girl.” he mutters softly as he gazes down at you. What he’s admitting is… definitely huge. It would definitely take your private lives and make them public.

You’re blushing, you can feel your face heating up a little.

“I wouldn’t object.” you admit quietly, dropping your gaze to his cutte for a few seconds. You realize exactly how serious what you’ve just admitted truly is. You’re aware that this means you’re basically admitting that you’d proudly take his crow. That you want the world to know you’re with him and you couldn’t be any happier if you tried.

Your words are the cause of the bright grin that stretches his lips and turns them upward and he tucks his fingers beneath your chin to make you look up at him. “You bein’ serious, baby girl? Because if you mean that…”

“I know, baby. I know. If I weren’t being serious, I never would have said it in the first place. It’s so hard keeping it just between the two of us.” you admit and you’re grinning right back at him just as bright. You wrap your arms around his neck and he wraps his arms around your body with his hands settling across your ass. Squeezing as he molds you against him tight. You whimper when he rocks himself against you and you can feel his cock push against the zipper of his favorite jeans as it twitches and grows.

“You’re gonna keep teasing me, Juice and I’m going to do something about it.”

“Oh you are, huh?” Juice laughs softly as his forehead rests against your own. He thinks he’s being slick when he bucks his hips into you all over again as his fingers dig against your backside and he rocks you against the bucking movement,and honestly? He is.

The handle on the door jiggles and the two of you freeze, sharing a look. Juice holds the side of his finger to your lips and the handle jiggles again, accompanied by Chibs Telford and Tig Traeger arguing noisily on the outside of it.

“They’re in there man.. Together. And it ain’t the first time. Go on old man, open the door. I dare ya. I bet you twenty five bucks you find ‘em both.”

Chibs scowls and raps on the door again.

“Juicey, lad. Are y’ in there?”

Tig calls out your name.

This leads the two of you to share a look and Juice reaches out, unlocking the door. Neither one of you bother pulling yourselves together and you’re even pouting a little as Juice smirks at the look on Chibs face before glancing over at Tig.

“Nosy assholes, aren’t ya?” he asks before closing the door and locking it all over again, in a hurry to get back to what you’d been up to….

#tppkinktober2021 #// totally sfw by the way #juice ortiz #juice ortiz imagines #juice ortiz fanfiction #juice ortiz imagine #my writing ; juice ortiz #my fics ; juice ortiz

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marleyelona · 11 days

Text

Material List (Ride or Die)

☆《》¤

RIDE OR DIE

(THE LETITIA MORROW SERIES)

☆《》¤

"With you, I've found my ride or die, my partner in crime."

☆《》¤

In which; Clay Morrow's daughter shows up at the club house all bruised and battered in desperate need of her father's help.

☆《》¤

Status: ongoing

08/03/2024-present

SOA: S1--

Juice Ortiz x fem! oc

☆《》¤

Prologue

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tragertrap · 4 years

Text

Intimidating || Juice Ortiz x Reader

Summary: (Y/N), although Jax's best friend, wants nothing to do with the motorcycle club that's fucking up her town. Well, at least that's the case until she meets a certain member of SAMCRO with a stupid haircut. Even though he seems too intimidating at first, (Y/N) learns to never judge a book by its cover when she gets a chance to see his softer side.

Having a best friend that works at an automotive repair shop definitely comes in handy for (Y/N), especially since her 'old ass disaster of a car' constantly breaks down.

"Wow, that's the 3rd time in a month (Y/N)!", Jax said before he let out a chuckle.

"You know I'm saving for a new one asshole." She hit his bicep playfully.

"I hope the best friend discount is still on", she mumbled.

"It expired after the forth time you used it darling."

"I'm sorry. It's just that... money's kinda tight right now."

"I can imagine..."

"Can I pay you back in pancakes?... or waffles? I know you won't deny waffles." She asked with an awkward smile on her face, hoping her best friend would accept.

"Have you not pay for the car AND poison me with your cooking? I think I'll pass", he teased her.

"I meant going to the diner outside of town but since you're being an asshole I guess the offer is off the table."

"Okay okay if you're not the one cooking, I'm down", he said, his smirk never leaving his face.

She couldn't help but laugh, thankful for her best friend being there to cheer her up.

"Thank you Jackie."

"My shift ends in half an hour. If you wanna wait we can go for pancakes after I'm done here", he said, putting an arm around her.

She had just left work, so the timing was perfect for a warm meal at a cozy diner with her best friend.

"Yeah, sure! I can wait."

They started walking towards the garage and the blond man started talking again: "You know I'd fix your car for free anyway but then you mentioned pancakes so I couldn't say no."

She narrowed her eyes and looked at him.

"You're lucky I love you Teller."

He laughed and gave her a kiss on the cheek, his arm still around her shoulder.

"Me and Chibs are just finishing off with an old bike and then we're good to go."

"Chibs?" she asked with a raised eyebrow as they were approaching the bike Jax was talking about.

"One of the guys... the Scottish one. Do you ever listen to me when I talk?"

"I was mostly asking because of the weird name but sure... Scottish one. Got it! One of your scary biker friends, right?"

He couldn't help but laugh yet again.

"Scary biker friends?"

(Y/N) loved Jax. The two immediately became best friends at a pretty young age when (Y/N)'s family had moved to Charming next to Gemma and John Teller's house. She loved him the way you'd love a brother, she was always there for him whenever he needed her but one thing she decided to stay completely away from was the club. She wouldn't approve of the outlaw lifestyle in the first place but also witnessing the mess it caused to her town, and most importantly her best friend, was only making it worse. She wouldn't ask any questions in case she'd get answers she wouldn't like. He was ok with it. More than ok with it actually. She was an escape for him to a carefree past and a light of positivity in his chaotic present.

She met the 'Scottish one' that was helping Jax fix the old bike and it went better than she expected. Once she got over his pretty intimidating look, scarred face, leather jacket and all, he actually seemed pretty nice and interesting.

She was sitting on a bench next to the two bikers working when she noticed another guy trying to fix a car nearby. Well, it was pretty hard for him to go unnoticed. He had a short dark mohawk and a tattoo on each side of it on his head, wounds on his face from god knows what and tattoos all over his arms and torso, that was now visible since his shirt was long gone. His muscular body was glistening from his sweat in the Californian heat and the muscles on his arms and upper back were moving in sync as he was working on the damaged car.

He had been over that car's engine for what seemed like forever and as much as she hated to admit it, (Y/N) wished she wasn't jealous of an old car. She had noticed the guy before, one of the many times she had to visit TM due to her shitty car, but that day she had the chance to take a 'closer look'.

His left hand was resting on the car's open hood now, giving her a better view of his muscular arm and flexing abs. The focused look on his face, lowered eyebrows and clenched jaw, made him appear even more intimidating and yet attractive, especially when he unconsciously licked his lips in deep thought.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)?" her friend interrupted her watching of the 'show'. "Can you pass me that cloth over there?", he asked as he pointed to a gray piece of cloth on the bench she was sitting.

After that small interruption she was back at unapologetically starting at the tan guy nearby. She guessed that she had missed a lot since a small part of his abs was covered in grease now and his face seemed even angrier after the amount of failed attempts to start the car.

After some more conversation with Jax and Chibs, once she looked over at the mohawk guy again, he had already put his black shirt on, meaning that his job fixing the car was done. Later as he was putting a no-sleeve leather jacket on, which (Y/N) unfortunately recognised, he was aimlessly looking around when he caught the almost-drooling girl looking at him. She immediately dragged her gaze to Jax and Chibs, mostly out of embarrassment as well as some fear of his intimidating look. Next thing she knew, the mohawk guy was strutting confidently towards her and the two bikers, shoulders and arms swaying back and forth. He was wearing a pair of black sunglasses, no one knowing where his brown eyes were focused on.

"Hey brother", Chibs said with a smirk.

He answered with a simple 'hey' and a light hit on Chib's back and then did the same to Jax, after he took off his sunglasses and put them hanging outside his leather jacket's pocket.

(Y/N) didn't know if she should have been mad or relieved that the hot outlaw completely ignored her existence, exactly because he was a hot outlaw. Nevertheless, she was satisfied she could study the biker up close. He was wearing buggy cargo pants with chains hanging from one side near his waist and the black shirt she had noticed earlier was visibly a little too tight on his muscular chest. He put his hands in his pockets, as (Y/N) was staring at the veins and black tattoos on his arms that had started to fade.

"Jax, I wanted to tell you that I can't come with you guys tonight. I have something personal to take care of." He didn't give any further details since his brothers were not the only ones present. He was waiting for an answer from Jax with a frown on his face since the sun was getting into his eyes. (Y/N) noticed how his chocolate brown pupils appeared almost red against the sunlight.

"Yeah, that's okay. We're more than enough for tonight anyway. You can take the evening off."

"Awesome, thank you man", he said with a smirk as he lightly hit Jax's back.

He then shook his head up as an indication of saying goodbye, while maintaining eye contact with (Y/N), before he walked away.

Was that saying goodbye to me as well?

It was a goodbye to everyone.

He was looking at my direction though.

(Y/N) wasn't exactly loving the fact that she was enjoying this.

______

The hot pancakes Jax and (Y/N) were eagerly anticipating finally arrived at the table.

"Thank you darling", the blond biker said to the waitress while intensionally making his voice sound a little deeper. He was smirking the entire time while sitting all laid back, exuding confidence. The young girl gave him a cheeky smile and went her own way.

"Do you ever take a break?" (Y/N) questioned him sarcastically.

"A break of what?" Jax asked, a playful look on his face since he obviously knew what she was talking about.

"Hitting on innocent women."

"She was eyeing me since the minute we walked in."

The only way she could respond was with an unamused look.

"Also don't act all innocent to me. You're worse than I am", he said before letting out a chuckle and taking a big bite of his pancakes.

"What are you talking about? I don't hit on any person on a 18 feet radius, at any given time and place."

"Well yeah, that's because you're too scared to actually hit on them so you just stare from afar."

(Y/N) kicked his leg under the table.

"Ouch", he screamed in a playful manner while rubbing his leg. "You bitch", he whispered.

"That's not true."

"You were staring at Juice the entire time we were at TM. Didn't even say hello to him."

"Staring at what?" She asked while laughing, not even understanding that with the word Juice, Jax was refering to a person.

"The guy back at the garage. Mohawk and tribal tattoos. You were practically drooling over him."

"No I wasn't", she sounded offended.

"You can't hide from me girl. You know that. I know you better than I know myself."

"Ok he's hot... I was looking, yeah... but 'drooling over him' is an overstatement."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say", he raised his eyebrows while taking a sip of water.

"Jax!"

"You weren't even listening to what me and Chibs were saying."

"Actually I was actively trying not to listen to your club... business... stuff."

Jax rolled his eyes at her desperate attempt to change the subject.

"You could've at least say hello, you know. Dude doesn't bite."

"Are you sure about that? He looked like he could bite to me. If I'm being honest I was kinda scared of him."

Jax started laughing. "Scared? Of Juice? I can guarantee you he was more scared of you than you were of him."

"What do you mean?" she asked amused.

"Let's just say that not everyone has their way with women like I do."

"You're an idiot."

"No seriously, he'd get nervous even if he was around a female dog."

"What? He looked pretty confident to me. Intimidating. And scary as I said before."

Jax couldn't help but roll his eyes and sigh. "You know, underneath all the leather and the tattoos, we're still human. Didn't you like Chibs?"

"He was pretty nice I guess. Well, when I could make out what he was saying", she said referring to his thick accent.

"See? And Juice is even... milder...", he was trying to find the right word, "than Chibs. Dude's into technology and computers, coding and shit. He's a total nerd."

"He's still an outlaw biker. Seriously, could you ever imagine me being with someone like that Juice guy?"

"With the stupid haircut of his? Hell no, you deserve way better."

"Jax, I'm serious."

"Well... no, it's not the easiest thing to imagine, but you're full of surprises baby, I know that", he chuckled.

"A mohawk, head tattoos and chains hanging from his pants is a pretty big surprise though, don't you think? And these fucking leather jackets."

"I've told you a million times, they're called kuttes."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes.

"(Y/N), if you can be best friends with me, you can date a guy like Juice, trust me. Also I have chains on my pants too, should I be offended?" he was once again teasing her.

"Yes."

"You should meet him. And by meet him I mean like actually have a conversation." He was trying to find a reason for her to meet the Sons after all those years, meet the other part of him she had been avoiding for so long.

"I'm not getting into your club business shit for some boy, Jackie. Especially a boy with a fucking mohawk."

"I'm not asking you to get into the club shit. Trust me, I wouldn't want that", he was all serious now, "I'm just saying that you can meet the guys. They are my family. They... they're a part of me. You met Chibs, he was ok. You know we don't only talk about dead bodies and guns. We have other interests as well."

She was quiet, not knowing how to respond, so he continued:

"We are family (Y/N). They've been there for me through my hardest times, just like you have. Maybe you have more things in common than you think. Besides, I think you and Juice would make a great duo", he told his best friend, smirking after the last sentence.

_____

A few days later (Y/N) was heading to TM once again. She had agreed with Jax that when she'd come to pick up her car, she'd come in the clubhouse to meet the guys for the first time.

So there she was, nervous, walking slowly towards the clubhouse entrance. Second thoughts were taking over her mind.

I don't know if I'm ready for this. I'm not meant to be involved in this kind of stuff... with these kind of people. What am I supposed to have in common with a bunch of criminal bikers? If only it wasn't for this dumb, scary, hot ass Juice dude.

To her surprise the dumb, scary, hot ass Juice dude was sitting by himself on a bench outside the clubhouse.

Shit, shit, shit. Ok. Go talk to him. No I can't go talk to him. I have to walk right by him anyway, I should talk to him. What am I supposed to say? I can just say hello. Or hey. God just look away.

Juice was looking down at something so she hoped he wouldn't look up at her. She was getting closer, still overthinking.

I should ask him about my car. Or Jax... yeah, I should ask him where Jax is.

Juice looked up giving her a small smile that made her knees weak.

"Hey... you're Jax's friend right? If you're looking for him he's probably in the clubhouse", the tan biker spoke first, making everything way easier for her. The truth is he did know who she was, that's for sure. 'Jax's cute bubbly friend whose car was breaking down constantly.'

"Awesome, thank y-" she didn't finish her sentence. She had felt something against her ankles, so she looked down. To her surprise there was a small gray kitten slithering between her legs and rubbing its small head against her ankles.

"I think she likes you", Juice said with a wide smile, the kind where his eyes smile as well. Apparently that's why he was looking down earlier.

"It took her weeks to trust me and stop running away from me and now she's all up on you the minute she meets you. I'm kind of offended actually", he said before letting out an adorable laugh, while spreading his right arm close to (Y/N)'s shoes, making the kitten rub its face on his big palm. He eventually grabbed it and put it gently on his lap where he was sitting.

A 'badass' biker dressed in black leather, full of tattoos and with a fucking knife hanging off his belt, petting a small kitten that was purring loudly on his lap. The contrast in this image was pretty apparent, to say the least. (Y/N) was sitting there taking in this unusual sight before he spoke again:

"She's a stray. Found her by some trash cans a few weeks ago and fed her. Now she won't leave." He was busy petting the cat, only looking up to face (Y/N) by his last sentence.

What he said, along with his big smile at the end, warmed her heart. Maybe bikers do have feelings after all. He suddenly didn't appear all scary to her. She sat on the bench next to him and although confident, it took all the courage she had.

"Why don't you take her to the animal shelter?" she asked while petting the cute kitten that was still on his lap.

"I wanted to... but I couldn't", a loud laugh escaping his lips. "I tried, I promise", he added while raising his hands in the air in an 'I'm innocent' motion. "I mean look at that face."

The cat was looking up at them, its green eyes shining. She was still petting it, when her hand accidentally brushed against Juice's.

"She's so cute", (Y/N) said after a few moments of silence while looking at the kitten, in order to change the sudden awkward atmosphere.

"She is", he said softly while looking at the cat and then up to the girl next him, not knowing who he was referring to either.

"I wanted to take her home but I'm too busy for a pet, you know, with the club an' all. I'm not even home that much. I wouldn't want to neglect her."

"I've always wanted a cat, but never really made the decision. I... I would love to get her... Well, if you're okay with that of course."

"Yeah, of course", he exclaimed all excited, "it breaks my heart knowing she's out here day and night. Getting her a home is everything I could ask for... you're gonna have to let me visit her though."

A sexy smirk appeared on his face and (Y/N) responded with a lovely smile. Maybe meeting the club wasn't such a bad idea after all.

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