#juice ortiz

[the-wandering-lunatic]

🗳️ ALRIGHT, WHAT ARE WE READING NEXT?

So while Roads We Didn't Choose prepares to encounter some mild turbulence this week...

👀

I've been thinking about what we're doing after RWDC wraps up.

And because apparently I have absolutely no ability to work on one story at a time, I have options.

IMPORTANT: This is NOT everything currently lurking in my drafts.

Not even close.

These are just the fics that are either finished, nearly finished, or far enough along that they're basically post-ready and I can confidently start releasing them without disappearing into the wilderness halfway through.

So.

You guys get to pick what comes next.

---

💍 THE WEDDING DATE

Chibs Telford x OFC | Mini-Fic

Fake date.

Family wedding.

A woman who needs someone convincing on her arm.

And apparently Chibs Telford cleans up very fucking well.

Excerpt:

A knock sounded. Nora looked down at herself. Smoothed the front of her dress. Immediately became annoyed that she'd done it. Then walked to the door. She reached for the knob. Paused. Gemma had known. That bitch had absolutely known. Nora opened the door. Chibs stood on her porch. For a second, neither of them spoke. His eyes moved over her. Not crudely. Not slowly enough to make her uncomfortable. Just enough that she saw the appreciation register. Something warm flickered in his expression. “Well.” Nora's eyebrows lifted. “Well?” A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Gemma was right about the green.” Nora stared at him. Then closed her eyes. “I'm going to kill her.” “Aye.” She opened them. “Did she tell everyone about this dress?” “Only me, far as I know.” “Somehow that's worse.” His smile widened. Then Nora noticed what he was holding. A flower. One. A pale pink rose.

---

♟️ ROOK'S GIRL

Chibs Telford x OFC Maeve (pronounced "Mave") Byrne | Full-Length Fic | ~20–30 Chapters

Maeve Byrne was supposed to bury her uncle.

Instead, the night before his funeral, she finds a hidden backpack, an old photograph, and one final set of instructions from the man who raised her:

Go to Charming, California. Find Filip Telford. Trust him. He’ll protect you.

Hours later, Maeve is running for her life.

Beaten, terrified, and carrying something men are willing to kill for—even if she has no idea what it is—she crosses the country chasing the only name Declan left her.

Filip Telford hasn’t heard the name Rook in years.

But when a battered woman walks into a Charming diner carrying Rook’s old backpack and wearing his watch, Chibs knows exactly who she is.

What he doesn’t know is where Declan is.

Or why someone followed his girl all the way to Charming.

Now an old life Chibs thought he’d buried is creeping back into his own, SAMCRO is watching every shadow, and keeping Maeve alive means figuring out Rook’s final move before the men hunting her do.

The problem?

Somewhere between safe houses, sleepless nights, old stories, and constantly looking over their shoulders, Maeve stops being Rook’s girl to Chibs.

She becomes his own reason to fight.

Excerpt:

The ice machine sounded like it had been dying slowly since sometime in the Reagan administration. Maeve stood beneath the fluorescent light with the bucket positioned under the dispenser and pressed the button. Nothing. She stared. Pressed it again. A mechanical groan came from somewhere inside. Then silence. "You have got to be fucking kidding me." Maeve rested her forehead briefly against the machine. Cold metal. Bad idea. She stood upright again. "Come on." Button. Groan. Nothing. Her body felt unbearably heavy. Not sleepy exactly. Past sleepy. Like everything inside her had gone numb while her muscles remained full of sand. The vending machine beside it glowed too brightly. Crackers. Chips. Candy bars. Maeve couldn't remember what she wanted. Food. Something. She'd barely touched dinner. No. Not dinner. Eggs. At the diner. Hours ago? Jesus. Maeve pressed the ice button again. The machine suddenly dumped half an avalanche into the bucket. She jumped. The bucket nearly fell. Her ribs lit up. "Fuck." She clutched it against herself. Wrong move. Pain sharpened. Maeve closed her eyes. Waited. Breathe. Small. Careful. When she opened them again, the vending machine was still there. Crackers. Get crackers. Then back to the room. She flattened a dollar against her thigh. Fed it into the machine. Rejected. Again. Rejected. Maeve stared at the bill. For several seconds, nothing happened inside her head. Then: Turn it. Right. She turned it. Tried again. Accepted. "Thank you." She pressed the crackers. The metal coil turned. Packet slid forward. Stopped halfway. Maeve stared. "No." She pressed the button again. Nothing. "Come on." She leaned toward the glass. Maybe... An arm hooked around her waist. A hand clamped over her mouth. Maeve's mind disappeared. No thought. No recognition. Nothing. Her body reacted first. She screamed into the hand. The ice bucket hit concrete. Ice exploded everywhere. Maeve kicked backward. Twisted. Her elbow drove behind her. Caught something solid. The arm around her middle tightened automatically. Pain ripped through her ribs. White. Blinding. Her knees gave. A strangled cry tore against the palm over her mouth. Maeve clawed at the hand. Tried to bite. Tried to turn. Her body simply couldn't generate enough force. "Easy, lass." Everything stopped.

---

🎮 LOADING...

Juice Ortiz x OFC | Full-Length Fic | ~20–30 Chapters

For almost a year, they were nothing more than usernames on a screen.

JuiceBoxx and InkWitch.

Late-night gaming sessions turned into hours-long conversations. Messages became the first thing they checked in the morning and the last thing they sent at night.

They knew almost everything about each other.

Almost.

When they finally decide to meet at Comic Con, neither expects the friendship they've built behind screens and headsets to survive quite so easily in the real world.

And neither expects three days together to change everything.

There's just one tiny problem.

Juice has never told Nikki he's a Son.

Nikki has never told Juice her last name.

And when those two missing pieces finally collide...

loading complete. chaos unlocked.

Excerpt:

His chest tightened. No. He couldn't leave it like this. Juice sat up. Grabbed his key. Crossed the room before he could talk himself out of it. And opened the door. Both froze. Nikki stood directly in front of him. One fist raised. Poised to knock. Juice stood halfway through the doorway. One hand still wrapped around the handle. Neither moved. "Oh." "Oh." A beat. Then... "I was gonna-" "You were gonna-" They stopped. Nikki laughed first. Juice followed. "You first." "No, you." "You came over here." "You opened the door." "Because I was coming over there." "Well, I got here first." "By like two seconds." "Still counts." He shook his head. And just like that... some of the panic disappeared. There they were. Ink and Juice. Arguing over absolutely nothing. Again. Except this time they were standing in a hotel hallway in the middle of the night. Barefoot. Neither apparently capable of sleeping. Because of each other. The laughter slowly faded. Neither moved. Suddenly... they were standing very close. Too close to pretend they hadn't noticed. The hallway seemed smaller than it had a moment ago. Quieter. Nikki swallowed. "What are we doing?" The question escaped before she could stop it. Juice looked at her. Really looked at her. "No idea." Honest. No joke. No smart-ass comment to soften it. Just the truth. Something in her chest tightened. His gaze dropped. Only briefly. To her mouth. Then back to her eyes. Nikki stopped breathing.

---

🏥 ON CALL

Angel Reyes x OFC Mara Sullivan | ~10–20 Chapters

It starts with a collision.

One exhausted ER nurse. One unsuspecting biker. One cup of coffee dumped all over a perfectly good pair of boots.

Mara Sullivan expects that to be the end of it.

Angel Reyes has other ideas.

Suddenly, the man she literally ran into keeps appearing at her coffee shop. Then a scrapyard accident lands him on a gurney in her overcrowded ER, giving Angel a front-row seat to the smart-mouthed nurse who can calm a terrified child, shut down an asshole twice her size, and somehow make six stitches and a concussion feel suspiciously like flirting.

Coffee turns into food trucks.

Food trucks turn into dates.

Dates keep getting interrupted by a phone that never seems to stop ringing.

Neither of them has a life that respects plans—but somewhere between midnight takeout, ER coffee runs, club business, and a relationship neither of them saw coming, Angel becomes a familiar face in her world.

And Mara becomes something much more dangerous in his.

His person.

Excerpt:

The next morning, Mara stepped out of the coffee shop... And heard a motorcycle. Her head turned. No. Absolutely fucking not. The bike slowed. Pulled toward the curb. Angel saw her. His expression changed. Just slightly. The expression of a man who had been caught doing something he knew damn well he wasn't supposed to be doing. Mara stopped walking. Angel stopped the bike. Neither spoke. Her eyes went to the motorcycle. Then to him. Then very deliberately... To the six fresh stitches near his hairline. Back to him. Angel gave her a sheepish smile. “Morning.” Mara just stared. Nothing. “Mara.” She slowly lowered her coffee. “Get.” Angel blinked. “What?” “Off.” “Mara..." “The.” She pointed at the motorcycle. “Fucking.” Angel's mouth twitched. “BIKE.” There it was. The full look. Angel Reyes had been stared down by men with guns. Men who wanted him dead. Men considerably larger than the woman standing on the sidewalk in dark green scrubs holding an Americano. None of them had ever made him feel quite this much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I feel fine.” Her eyes narrowed. Angel immediately regretted his choice of words. “Oh, you feel fine.” “Yeah.” “Wonderful.” “Mara...” “How's the headache?” Angel hesitated. Her eyebrows lifted. “Angel.” “…Little one.” “Dizzy?” “No.” “Angel.” He looked away. Mara's jaw dropped. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” “Barely.” “Get off the bike.” “I gotta get to the clubhouse.” “Then walk.” “It's like three miles.” “Sounds therapeutic.” Angel laughed. She did not.

---

And again:

THIS IS NOT THE ENTIRE WIP PILE.

This is merely the portion of the WIP pile that has stopped actively fighting me and can reasonably be released into the wild. 🤣

There are more.

There are always more.

So...

WHAT DO YOU WANT NEXT?

💍 The Wedding Date - Chibs

♟️ Rook's Girl - Chibs

🎮 Loading... - Juice

🏥 On Call - Angel

Vote below and tell me WHY in the comments/tags because I thoroughly enjoy watching you all campaign for your man. 🤣

Choose wisely.

Or don't.

I'm still gonna emotionally inconvenience you either way.

Tags: @coffee-obsessed-writer • @hanaissunshine • @darqchilddaydreamz • @jvalentinesworld-cokes-hyna • @shinymoonstarfish • @stitchattacks • @meera10 • @withmyteeth • @baybaybear1 • @pacyfka13 • @sparkprime • @ghostlytraitortale • @ravennaortiz • @msjava1972 • @5trawb3rry-mi1k • @staley83 • @tssweets

[ravennaortiz]

For the Monster Lover Event I would love something with Juice and Chibs as werewolves please!!! <3

Two werewolves!!! Yes! Yes and yes! 🧡

[brunettemarionette]

Hi! Could I get a blue present with a white bow for Juice please. Also, I love your writing!!💖

unwrapped masterlist | main masterlist | navigation

title; jealousy, jealousy

pairing; juice ortiz x fem!reader

prompt; blue present (hurt/comfort) + white bow (jealousy)

You'd been nursing the same half-empty beer for twenty minutes, leaning against the far end of the bar while the clubhouse thumped with music and loud voices. Juice was somewhere in the mix—usually he stuck close, but tonight he'd been pulled into a conversation with Happy and Bobby about a run.

You didn't mind; you liked watching him like this, easy in his skin among the brothers, excitable grin on his face, and the way his hands moved when he talked.

Then some new prospect, all tall, cocky, and reeking of cheap cologne, slid up beside you as if he belonged there.

"Seen you around," he said, eyes dragging over you in a way that made your skin crawl. "Juice's old lady, right? He's a lucky bastard."

You gave him a flat look. "I'm not interested."

He didn't take the hint as his hand landed on the small of your back, fingers pressing just a little too firmly. "C'mon, just talk to me. I can be real nice-"

You shoved his hand away. "I said no."

The prospect's smile tightened as he leaned in closer, and that was when Juice appeared.

He didn't raise his voice; he didn't need to. One second the prospect was crowding you; the next Juice had him by the collar, dragging him back three hard steps until the guy's back hit the wall.

"You touch her again," Juice said, low and flat, "and I'll put you in the ground myself. You understand me?"

The prospect's face went pale as he nodded quickly. Juice let him go with a shove that sent him stumbling toward the door. A few of the guys glanced over, then looked away. Happy nodded to Juice for handling business.

Juice turned back to you; his eyes were dark, jaw tight, the muscle in his cheek ticking. He reached for your wrist, gentle but insistent, and steered you out the side door into the cooler night air of the lot.

The door swung shut behind you, muffling the noise. "You okay?" His voice was rough and irritated.

You nodded anyway, not wanting him to get any more upset, even though your pulse was still jumping. "I'm fine. He was just being an asshole."

Juice's hands flexed at his sides as he looked at you like he was trying to decide whether to pull you in or punch something. "He put his hands on you. I saw it."

"Juice-"

"I don't like it." The words came out sharp, then softer, almost ashamed. "I don't like other guys looking at you like that. Touching you. Makes me feel… I don't know. Crazy." He dragged a hand through his short mohawk, the way he always did when he was wound up. "I know it's not fair. You're not property. But every time someone gets near you, I want to-" He cut himself off, shaking his head.

You stepped closer, seeing the jealousy sit on him like a weight, and under it you could see the worry, the protectiveness that always lived just beneath his skin. You reached up and cupped his face, thumb brushing the edge of his jaw.

"Hey. Look at me." He did, and the hard edge in his eyes softened the second they met yours.

"I'm right here," you tell him firmly. "I'm yours. That guy doesn't matter. Nobody does. Only you matter to me."

Juice exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for minutes. His hands came up to your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you in until your chests touched. He rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

"I hate that I get like this," he murmured. "Hate that it makes me feel weak. But when I saw his hand on you…" His voice cracked a little. "Scared the shit out of me. Thought for a second I might lose you."

You slid your arms around his neck, holding him tighter. "You're not losing me. Not ever."

He made a small sound, like both relief and hunger, then kissed you. It started soft and careful, then deepened when you opened for him. One of his hands slid up your back, anchoring you against him like he needed the contact to believe you were still here, still safe, still choosing him.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was uneven. He pressed a softer kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your temple. "Come home with me," he said. "I just… I need you close tonight. Need to know you're okay."

You nodded, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. "I'm okay because of you. No doubt the guys will give him shit for this. He'll probably be cleaning the toilet in a thong if Tig gets a hold of him."

Juice's arms tighten around you one more time, like he was still chasing the last of the fear out of his system, letting out a breathy laugh. "Poor kid." He snorted with a small laugh.

Lacing your fingers together, he led you toward his bike. The jealousy still lingered in the set of his shoulders, but the worst of it had burned off, replaced by something quieter. Something that felt a lot like need, so you let him keep you close all the way home.

[ravennaortiz]

for the monster lover event:

puppy boy juice (maybe a dog hybrid of some sort) who gets worked up so easily by any touch reader gives him (fingers brushing, reader gives him a lil peck on the cheek or holds his arm in theirs), until he practically explodes from trying to Keep It Cool™

(this 100% came to me while listening to dollface by ellise earlier)

Yesssss! I love this idea and will def be listening to this song when I get to typing it up! 🧡

[scrmqwn]

juan carlos ortiz x "cougar"gf!reader

(yea sorry not shutting the fuck up about these two either, psycho control freaks who level each other out. each other's sun and moon, yin and yang, cheech and chong. juice's girlfriend is the only person who has ever been able to love him the way he needs and juicy is the only person who's been able to love her the way she's wanted.)

[belleeebelleee]

Clay letting Tig take shrooms before the vote for Jax going Nomad and saying he’ll proxy for him.. Evil motherfucker 

Juice actually tearing up when told that Jax is asking to go Nomad

[ravennaortiz]

We need some smut girly I'm dying for your writing 🥹❤️❤️ love your blog btw it's my favorite blog on Tumblr 😫

I got 4 smutty birthday fics you this weekend love! 💜🔥💜

Love bites with vampire coco

Shit! With juice

Filled up with demon juice

Quiet for me with manny

I appreciate your kind words about my writing and blog! 🥺💜🤗 it means a lot!

[tiredtripp]

//18+, NSFW

Prospect Juice being a virgin in Tigs eyes. Obviously the younger man isn't but unlike most prospects, Juice isn't jumping to have sex at every given moment. So after bothering the shit of him Tig finally got an answer. That being he didn't really think he was good at it. Especially when his ex girlfriend admitted she was faking it during sex when she broke up with him.

Obviously this can't keep going on. Not according to Tig at least. That's one of the great things about being in SAMCRO. Getting laid whenever you want without a worry in the world! So instead of finding a crow eater Tig calls up his own partner that has no issue having a little fun.

That's how the three of you end up at Tigs house in his king sized bed. Clothes all over the room as Tig practically cucks himself. (You'll make it up later, he knows you will) Tig is the only one still in his jeans. While Juice is bare between yours legs. Feeling like a damn lab specimen while Tog is the crazy scientist.

When Juice finally pushed into you he looked at you, waiting for permission to actually move. When you did he started off fast, sloppy, nervous. Tig grabs the younger mans hips. "Slow and easy, just to start." Tig mumbles as he slowly starts to guide Juices thrusts. Telling him how you liked to fucked. How Juice just needs to stop being so worried and just touch you.

When both you and Tig started praising him his thrusts got sloppy again. Something about the sweet praise just seemed to break something in his brain. Tigs hands tightened on Juice's hips again. Steadying his thrusts. "You can go fast but that doesn't mean you have to go hard. Keep the rhythm." Juice looked down at you. Apologizing. "It's okay, keep going. You're doing better." You responded. Juice nodded, letting Tig guide his hips.

Obviously Juice is the first one to come. But you didn't mind. Not when Tig pushed his head down, telling Juice that a gentleman always cleans up his messes. When Juice looked up at you there was absolutely no way he could even think about disobeying. So with his dick soft, and no longer feeling nervous, he put his mouth to work. Not yet ready to admit to Tig that today he learned a few things.

One, he needs to actually focus when having sex. Then two, he absolutely loved having sex with you. Maybe he won't tell Tig that second one.

(Half asleep and thinking about Juice)