I’m Sofía!! I’m 20, I used to b up there in fanfic writers during the pandemic era, sm ppl might recognize me as siv-tries or isatuamor if u were in hq fandom then. I did a lot of latina readers so idk. I’m back in fanfic bc I think the community has devolved so imo I’m doing God’s work in this bitch 🗣️🗣️🗣️. I’m fluent in 3 languages and intermediate in another 2, and this is a hobby account.
DNI: pro-ana, ed/sh, “older men do it better”, bigotry
I am a college student, so posts will be sparse and I won’t b accepting requests until MAYBE summer even then I might not bc u ppl js req the same thing to different writers. BACK IN MY DAY THAT WAS TABOO AND IF U DID THAT U WOULD GET BLOCKED OR IGNORED IF ON ANON. And I’m here for the latina readers bro. There’s such a ridiculous lack of it again that I need to come out of fanfic retirement to fix it.
I have a studyblr acc @pinkpeonydream if ur interested, I need to lock in on that one and will post more often almost daily on there but it’s not fandom related at ALL.
My most common posts on here will be reblogging fics that I really like, but I will not reblog or write smut. There’s enough of that.
Since we’re in Latino heritage month now I want to bring something up again that’s worth talking about when it comes to reader insert fic:
Can we as writers please be aware that latine people are present in fandom and not make the assumption that the reader does not speak Spanish?
Especially when writing for Latino characters, latine people look to them for representation and it feels very exclusionary to assume the reader doesn’t know Spanish. Latine representation is hugely important for us. Actors like Pedro Pascal, Oscar Isaac, Diego Luna, Gabriel Luna, and more are so important for that representation and they all understand that importance. With the lack of latine and poc characters, it’s always very meaningful when we are represented. And it’s very hurtful that people can assume that their audience is only white.
Some ways to work around and be inclusive: You could use italics to indicate Spanish, say “you didn’t hear” instead of “you didn’t understand” so that way it’s more open to interpretation, provide an immediate translation in or out of the context and let readers decide for themselves if they understood it or not. Very simple things make a huge difference in inclusivity and don’t change your story at all!
And another note too: please be respectful when writing Latino characters and actively work to avoid getting into fetishization territory. Be aware of harmful tropes and stereotypes that exist while writing Latino characters. I.e. the Latin lover trope, the whole papi thing, “spicy Latino” etc. The characters aren’t real but the impact it can have does affect real people and it can make latine people uncomfortable to see it in fic.
Remember that inclusivity is a kindness and people of all walks of life read fics to let’s work to make everyone feel welcome and loved and seen in our reader insert fic!
Maul x Reader, slight Obi-Wan x reader (not tagged)
Established relationship + canon typical violence
Basically szn finale of Maul Shadow Lord :3
Hi guys I’m in love w Maul and Din so uhhh uhm here’s this ur a Jedi and u had two padawans + were a council member + Jedi lineage from Mace Windu before the fall of the republic that’s all the context but u barely need it. Watch out for my actual oc 🤗
You knew the Jedi Hunters would come for you at some point. Especially now that you had reunited with Maul after the war that had torn you apart. You hadn’t expected two hunters to make an appearance on Janix, much less him.
He had come after you himself once before, so you truly thought he would not repeat the same action. In your heart of hearts, you knew he never gave up easily. Especially when given a clear target.
That little boy from Tatooine, so innocent and sweet and passionate. It was impossible to not think about the ten year old Anakin during the early years of your knighthood, when your friendship with Obi had begun to blur the lines between the growing intimate attraction and familiarity.
Anakin made it difficult, as did your own padawan. But yours and Obi’s youth and passion had no other outlet save for missions. And the boys could entertain each other.
It was nice up until the rare slow morning turned into a day full of more chaos than you could imagine.
“Anakin, give that back!” you screeched as he ran out of the chamber with your small burowgas-leather-bound journal. Obi-Wan shoots up from beside you at your scream, but you’re already tugging a loose robe around your shoulders.
“What on-“
“That damned padawan of yours,” you mutter angrily as you slam the button to the door of the Temple’s chambers. “Anakin!” you yell after the boy.
“I thought I saw your face today!” he yelled out mischievously as you stomped your way to the boy.
“Anakin, do not read from that journal!” you berated him, locating him quickly with a mind touch his clumsy force training couldn’t sense yet.
“But I just turned my head away!” he read from the journal once again, running out from behind the couch, and you caught Obi and your padawan’s silhouettes in your peripheral.
You grab the boy, your arm jutting out from your side like lightning. He may be powerful now, but at the time, he was just a clumsy, whimsical, blooming child.
“Not another word from you,” you hissed, snatching the journal. His doe hazel eyes peered back up into your own, and a pang of guilt made its way up your spine. You loosenned your grip on his bicep. “This is personal, Ani.”
“I’m sorry, Master,” he bowed politely, realizing he was in the wrong.
“The next time you have expendable energy,” your voice softenned, realizing how he didn’t mean any harm. “Practice your saber forms with Minta, hm?”
He sighed dramatically, “Yes, Masterrr.”
You release him completely, and walk back to Obi’s chambers, the ‘slumber party’ now come to its end.
Such a sweet sweet boy. Where did he go?
“Spirits above,” you whisper, feeling your body slack as Rook is dragged back into the fog. Everyone else arms themselves, but you can’t. You feel your blood run ice cold the moment you hear the mechanical automatic cyborg breathing. His shadow begins to loom in the fog as he steps forward, and you instinctively step back. You were the only one who knew him in the ragtag group Maul had gathered up, the only one to encounter him before…
He lights his red saber, and your breath catches. Blasters shoot, only to be blocked without a second look. The Lawsons and their droid run away at someone’s command. Master Daki, Devon, and Maul are no match for him. He pushes them away with the force, and his attention is unequivocally on you. Your legs practically glue you to the forest floor. He’s looking at you, coming after you. The others are too slow, too far from you.
“Ani,” you whisper, and the nickname makes a newfound rage flow through him. His saber comes down upon you ferociously, and you block him with you own, the red and purple light mixing. A tear runs down your cheek as you think of the little boy from Tatooine.
“Please,” you whisper again. “I know you’re in there.”
He doesn’t answer, and you gather your strength to push him away. “All of you, run! I can handle this.”
They begin to protest as you begin to duel, and you yell, “Go!!”
They listen, but the more you spoke to Anakin, the more angry he became.
“Anakin, you’re better than this,” you plead, an image of you all fighting with Obi Wan together entering your mind for him to see. Before Minta’s death, before Ahsoka and your second padawan. He uses the opening in your force usage to catch you by surprise, and choke you, throwing you off into the jungle.
The padawans. Minta. Ahsoka. Kyrie. Ahsoka, you knew she was safe. She had established secret connections with you when she left the Order. She goes by Ashla now. Kyrie… Kyrie had just been assigned to the night guard for the younglings in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant when Order 66 was implemented. She had just been knighted. You hadn’t seen or heard from her since. He was there. He led his clones to commit the atrocities in the Temple on Coruscant. And Minta, killed on a mission at the beginning of the Clone Wars, at the hands of Dooku. He barely even saw Anakin to his own knighthood.
So you run. You run faster than you ever have in your life, dipping in to the dark side, just as your master did before you. You earned your purple saber. You know right from wrong, light from dark. You have mastered yourself. You cannot lose yourself. You jump across the temple ruins, seeing Anakin trying to kill Maul and Devon and Daki with his Inquisitors. You use the force to drive you forward, “Where is she?!” you scream, your saber alit. Anakin turns to catch your saber with his own as you come down on him, and his anger is felt in droves across the force.
“What did you do to Kyrie, Anakin?” you ask again. “Did you do the same to her as you did to the younglings?!”
You feel strong shock through the force electrify you, from Daki and Devon. “Answer me, Anakin!” You swing at each other, and you feel his robotic body tiring out. You helped teach that boy how to fight.
“You are just the embodiment of the sins of Anakin Skywalker,” you yell, jumping over a gap in the stone bridge. “What did you do to Kyrie?!”
The only sound that came from him was a hiss of air, and a grumble of, “This.” And he plunged his saber into your shoulder faster than you could react. The white-hot saber retracted quickly as you cried out from the burning pain, gripping your saber tighter, and moving it in front of you to defend yourself with your uninjured arm.
Maul called out your name from the temple behind you, and the moment Anakin - no, Vader, was distracted by the Zabrak, you took the chance to flee. Perhaps you could have handled Anakin when you were uninjured. But this was not the little boy from Tatooine. You felt his presence nearing behind you, and a tingle at the back of your neck told you that his saber would come down on you within the minute. You turned to block it, but before your saber could alight, Daki was blocking the blow for you.
“Run, Master,” he insisted, holding Vader back, and you swallowed thickly. “Find Devon!”
“Thank you, Daki,” you whispered, already willing the force into the hole in your shoulder to heal it. You practically tripped over yourself as you urgently turned around to run to the temple.
Look where star-crossed rebellious teenage love landed you. Defending a Twi’lek padawan from inquisitors because your lover sees potential in her. And you see potential in her to heal his wounds.
“Maul!” you called out, fighting the masked Jedi Hunter with Devon. “Devon, go, run!”
“Yes, Master,” she listens, running away and making a turn.
You hear a scream from her shortly after.
“Devon!” you incapacitate the jedi hunter quickly, running towards her as you feel waves of anger float dangerously through the force. You run up behind her in time to see Daki’s lifeless body slip from Vader’s saber. She steels herself in front of you, turning to find the other hunter as Vader made his way toward Maul.
It feels like your heart has entered your throat. Devon, who reminded you so much of your own padawan, so passionate, so war-torn, with such an affinity to the dark side, you couldn’t possibly leave her to the certain death the hunters were. But to leave Maul alone to Vader? Whom you nor Daki could best just moments ago? Whom just one year ago to the day, Obi could not best? And you knew Maul could not best Obi-Wan.
You swallow thickly, and you begin to feel the exhaustion set into your bones from healing yourself. This was a decision you needed to make. For the padawans. For the failure of Yoda’s lineage. You run to catch the hunter’s saber as it comes down heavily on Devon, and she nods gratefully.
She begins to copy your movements, the vaapad forms more clumsily mirroring juyo than the seventh jedi lightsaber form. Your silent and calm breaths and her grunts and pants paralleling each other perfectly as you begin to overwhelm the hunter. It doesn’t last long, though, with the ruins suddenly trembling, and coming down violently.
You kick Devon away from the fight, and force push the hunter away as boulders come down between you.
“I will kill them!” you hear Devon scream, the dark side corrupting her.
“You are not yet strong enough!” Maul’s voice replies, and you kick into gear, running towards them.
You’re alright!
He senses your thoughts as you both instinctively poke and prod in each other’s minds once within each other’s vicinity.
I barely managed to escape unscathed.
He refocuses on getting to the ship as you make a worried face, giving him a once over. Nothing out of the ordinary. Save his legs, which had been malfunctioning since the day prior due to the hunters.
Once safely on the ship, you evaluate each other’s injuries, secluded from the children.
“Amazing,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing lightly over your shoulder, just where the scar would be had you not force healed yourself. “If only every force user could have even a fraction of your ability…”
“It’s more difficult to heal somebody else than myself, Maul,” you roll your eyes at him as you inspect his Mandalorian cybernetic leg. “Even then, it’s more difficult to repair your legs than it is to force heal yourself someone else.”
“Still, an amazing ability, my starlight,” he whispers, his thoughts louder than his words, now.
I am forever grateful for your self healing. Without it I would die of worry.
You continue to mess with the wires in his leg, but to no avail. The copper and rubber were melted from the saber that impaled his leg.
I am serious, starlight. Without you here, I have no idea what I would do. I would have no reason to live. I worry so much for your wellbeing, and without your healing ability, I do believe I could never part from you.
I am more than my healing ability, Maul. You remind him. Must I remind you I was on the Jedi council?
I know you are a warrior. But to me you are…
He didn’t have to say what you were. You felt it in droves through, with, and within the force. Something more than love. Love felt childish at this point.
A cosmic connection between the light and the dark side. Neither of you quite jedi or quite sith, changing each other into something more, from the moment you met on Coruscant eighteen years ago.
“That’s enough,” he pushes your hands away from the wires in his legs. You assume it had begun to hurt up his side. He caresses the skin on your shoulder once more, making sure the others in your party weren’t paying attention. They weren’t. The children you now had were still in shock from the battle. So Maul placed a tentative kiss on your forehead, keeping his eyes shut as he rested his forehead on yours. He cautiously laid his forehead in a way that did not bother you with his horns.
You are everything to me, my starlight.
And you to me, my sky.
You glance at Devon, feeling her waves of anger flow, before looking back at Maul.
She has fallen, hasn’t she?
She has.
She does not know there are more ways than yours?
I believe she does. He provides a mental image of what he sees currently. Devon behind you, looking between you and Maul, as if making a decision.
She likely has become disenchanted with the Jedi.
He stays silent.
Many have, and I do not blame them. My master had it right for a time, I believe. Using our own darkness for the light. But tradition brought us down, in the end. Just look at Master Yoda’s Jedi lineage… Dooku, Anakin…
He nods, before disengaging completely, and making eye contact with Devon. You turn around to witness her decision.
“I’m ready,” she says darkly, gripping her lightsaber tightly, eyes set on Maul.
Hiii :] I'm in a very angsty mood right now and I was thinking about Maul grieving his beloved. I personally see him as someone who wouldn't ever really move on once he devotes himself to another. He had finally had someone who gave him a sense of peace and comfort, no matter how small. And yet they, like everything else in his life, where ripped away from him. Yeah idk I doubt he'd ever recover from that imo 🤷
Anyways I hope you have a lovely day/night 🫶!!!
headcanons: reader dies in maul's arms + his grieving
w/c: 0474
a/n: i felt so bad writing these 😭 sorry if there are any typos i'm not wearing my glasses and it's the fourth time i'm trying to post this
warnings: angst guys...
• you fought as hard as you could.
• your vision went red and your ears burned, but you were still standing until your legs couldn't hold you anymore.
• when you fell to your knees, he noticed.
• he always did, peeping at you during fights to check how you were doing, relieved to see you were still going.
• until you hit the ground, blinking fast, tasting blood.
• his world stopped, silent if not the sound of you struggling to breathe.
• he ran to you, holding you close, despair in his eyes.
• "stay with me", he whispered, "please, please."
• you wish you could have said how much you loved him before drawing your last breath.
• "no, don't do this to me", his tears stained the soft skin of your face, not yet cold, "you can't do this to me."
• he reached out to the force, trying to heal you, begging it to let you live. did it until he was utterly exhausted.
• until you were pale beyond saving.
• his life already had little meaning before you, but you changed his perspective. now, without you again, it's worse than it ever was.
• it was better not to have anything at all than to have his truest love taken away from him.
• blames himself daily. the weight of his guilt is so heavy he falls back to his old, supposedly forgotten ways.
• so he punishes himself like his old master would.
• you're not there anymore to stop him.
• forget the syndicates, forget kenobi. his thoughts are consumed by the ghost of you.
• keeps some of your belongings with him. wraps the fabric of your clothes around his wrist. wears your necklace.
• has your perfume or one of your clothes by his bedside, but never smells it. he's too scared.
• cannot sleep. he's terrified that the memory of your life slowly drifting away before his eyes will come back in a nightmare.
• when he does, it's restless sleep. dreams of you, always.
• some nights, they're sweet, though. he sees you, touches you, kisses you as if nothing happened.
• only to wake up alone, forever haunted by your absence.
• it's in those nights he cries the most.
• he regrets so much. regrets not being enough, not being nicer, more understanding.
• replays every argument and regrets not simply leaving whatever reason caused it behind just to be in your sweet company.
• regrets his pettiness, his selfishness. regrets not being perfect for you.
• regrets not saying "i love you" enough, or ever, because he didn't know how and refused to learn for such a long time.
• honors you in every way he can. everything he does, he does thinking of you.
• it will take him a very long time to be functional again.
• but he will never fully recover.
• you will always be a part of him he refuses to let go.
Hey Jess! I hope you're having a great day today 💕 I was wondering if you were still accepting requests to make dividers? If not, don't worry about it 💖
Ah hi, Tess! I am now! 💖 I really hope you’re having a great day, too. And yes, I would love to make some for you! (Or if you have something else in mind, just let me know!)
[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!
Please follow, like or reblog if you use 💕Submit requests here!
Bucky being weirded out by his pregnant wife’s (reader) pregnancy cravings and tries it and he ends up kinda liking it
Bucky had seen a lot of horrifying things in his lifetime.
Hydra experiments. Alien invasions. Gas station sushi at three in the morning.
Even with all those, there is not a thing in the world that could have prepared him for walking into the kitchen at midnight to find his pregnant wife dipping dill pickles into a bowl of melted chocolate ice cream.
He stopped dead in the doorway.
“You’re joking.”
You looked up from your spot perched on the counter, oversized sweatshirt stretched over your rounded stomach. “I’m not.”
Bucky stared at the combination in your hands like it had personally offended him. “Baby, that is a crime.”
“It’s delicious.”
“It’s disgusting.”
You took a loud, deliberate crunch before dragging the pickle through another swirl of chocolate. “You’re just closed-minded.”
“I’m not closed-minded,” he argued. “I’m sane.”
The look you gave him was deeply unimpressed.
Pregnancy cravings had become a regular occurrence over the last few months, but this one might’ve been the worst yet. Earlier that week, you’d cried because the diner down the street stopped serving curly fries after ten. Two nights ago, you’d demanded peanut butter toast with hot sauce at one in the morning. Bucky had made it without complaint because he adored you, but even then he’d looked mildly traumatized.
This though?
This was villain behavior.
“You want some?” you asked sweetly.
“No.”
“You didn’t even think about it.”
“I did think about it,” he said. “I thought absolutely not.”
You shrugged, entirely unbothered, and continued eating while Bucky made himself tea. He kept glancing over his shoulder at you with increasing suspicion.
The worst part was the sound.
Crunch.
Then the soft scrape of pickle against ice cream.
Crunch.
It shouldn’t have smelled good together, but somehow the salty tang mixed with the sweetness in a way that kept making his nose twitch.
Bucky narrowed his eyes.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“I literally offered you some.”
“You’re trying to trick me.”
“James Buchanan Barnes,” you gasped dramatically. “I would never.”
“You absolutely would.”
You grinned around another bite.
God, you looked cute.
That was the problem. You could be sitting there eating drywall and he’d still think you were adorable.
Pregnancy looked painfully good on you too, which Bucky tried not to think about too hard unless he wanted to combust on the spot. The softness in your cheeks, the glow in your skin, the way your stomach curved beneath his shirts—it made him emotional in ways he couldn’t explain.
He crossed the kitchen and settled between your spread knees automatically, large hands resting on your hips.
“How’s our girl tonight?” he asked, rubbing your belly gently.
Right on cue, the baby kicked.
Bucky’s entire face softened instantly.
“There she is,” he murmured.
You smiled down at him, carding your fingers through his hair. “She’s been moving all night.”
“Probably trying to escape because of what you’re feeding her.”
“Oh my god.”
“I’m serious,” he said solemnly. “She’s fighting for her life in there.”
You laughed so hard you nearly snorted, and Bucky felt his chest tighten with affection. He loved making you laugh lately. Loved seeing you happy when pregnancy had been exhausting on your body.
Then you held the pickle toward him again.
“One bite.”
“No.”
“One.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You made me try sardines.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“You weren’t pregnant and emotionally unstable.”
Your mouth dropped open in betrayal.
Bucky grinned.
“You’re evil,” you informed him.
“Maybe.”
But you kept staring at him with those big hopeful eyes, and unfortunately for him, Bucky Barnes had never been capable of denying you much of anything.
Especially now.
Especially when you were carrying his child.
With a heavy sigh, he leaned forward.
“One bite,” he warned.
Your face lit up triumphantly.
“Oh my god, yes.”
“This better not ruin my life.”
“It’ll change your life.”
“That’s not reassuring.”
You guided the pickle toward his mouth like you were feeding a wild animal. Bucky took the smallest possible bite, already grimacing before he’d even tasted it.
Sweet chocolate.
Cold vanilla.
Sharp vinegar.
Salty pickle.
His eyebrows furrowed immediately.
You watched him expectantly. “Well?”
Bucky chewed slowly.
Then paused.
Then frowned harder.
Because the horrifying part was—
“…it’s not terrible.”
You gasped like he’d just confessed his love all over again.
“I knew it!”
“No, hold on—”
“I knew it,” you repeated louder.
“It’s weird.”
“But good.”
He hesitated.
“…a little.”
Your victory screech echoed through the apartment.
Before Bucky could defend himself, you shoved another bite toward him and he actually accepted it this time, which was probably his first mistake.
His second mistake was taking a bigger bite.
Because somehow it worked.
The crunch with the creaminess. The salty and sweet together.
Bucky looked deeply disturbed by his own reaction.
“I hate this.”
“You love it.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
He pointed accusingly at you. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone about this.”
“Too late. I’m telling Sam immediately.”
“Baby.”
“I’m putting it in the baby book.”
Bucky groaned, resting his forehead against your stomach while you laughed. He could feel the vibrations of it beneath his cheek, warm and alive and so overwhelmingly you.
After a moment, your laughter softened.
“You really don’t think I’m gross?” you asked quietly.
Bucky looked up immediately.
“What?”
“The cravings. The crying. Me waking you up at weird hours.” You gave a tiny shrug. “I know pregnancy’s kinda… weird.”
His expression melted so fast it made your chest ache.
“Doll,” he said gently, sliding his hands over your thighs. “You’re growing our baby. You could ask me to grill a watermelon at four in the morning and I’d do it.”
You snorted.
“Actually,” he added thoughtfully, “that might be better than the pickle thing.”
You laughed again, and Bucky leaned forward to kiss you softly.
Sweet chocolate still lingered on your lips.
“…Okay,” he muttered against your mouth. “Maybe give me another pickle.”
Your eyes widened in delight.
“Oh, you are SO obsessed with this now.”
“I’m literally not.”
“Sure, honey.”
Bucky sighed dramatically as you handed him another chocolate-covered pickle.
This applies to a certain kind of people, you KNOW who you are:
“I wanna fuck [fictional character]!” “Just one night with [fictional character(s)]!” “My girl doesn’t [insert sexual activity] that’s why I cheat!” “It’s too small.” “It’s not pink.” “[Fictional character] is sooo fuckable.” “She doesn’t know how to do it right.” “He’s too small to feel good, I should break up with him.” “[Fictional character] is so boring but I’d still smash.” “She’s boring, I need two at once.” “My man doesn’t [insert sexual activity] should I break up with him?”
“LATINA FETISH, ASIAN FETISH, BLACK FETISH, he’s too chopped, she’s too chopped, BLAH BLAH BLAH!”
I dont understand why human beings are so, so, so, soooo SOOOOOOO FUCKING obsessed with sex. Sex obsessed as fuck. It’s literally everywhere. It’s all you talk about. It’s fucking annoying. We get it, sex is fun, smut is fun too, moderation, people. WHY is sex/sexual content always being shoved up our ass ANY CHANCE ANYONE GETS?!! Is it all you people think about?!!?? So many of this world’s problems would be fixed if humans weren’t so hyperfixated on SEX? (You know who you are)
Why does no one ever say “I wanna cuddle with him.” “I love her personality, she makes me feel so special.” “He’s so sweet.” “I wanna buy her a cute dress.” “I’ll always love him and him only.”
I don’t need a sex obsession. I don’t need sex 24/7 to be happy. Neither should you.
TLDR: I think sexualizing characters/people IS COMPLETELY OKAY, but I’ve seen sooooo many people who make it their entire fucking personality and all they can think about 24/7 is dick or pussy AND ITS FUCKING ANNOYING.
Edit: To those cowards sending me anonymous inbox messages, I D O N' T G I V E A F U C K :)
Edit 2: I NEVER SAID “FUCK SEX 4 lives forget abt it” reread it if you don’t get it, idiots. I said it’s OKAY, just people that think about it 24/7 to the point that it could cause irl problems, are annoying asf. 24/7. If that gets you pissed off, you’re one of them.
Cannot make ts up i saw a star wars like y/n aesthetic post and there was business casual outfits 💔💔💔 babe. If i’m ruling a fucking planet maybe I will… a. Dress the way the rest of the planet does or b. Be fucking DRIPPY?!?!?? None of this business casual??? Hello we have little miss ruled a planet at 14 as the blieprint? And HER DAUGHTER LITTLE MISS PRINCESS OF A PLANET AND LEADER OF THE REBELLION???
U ppl make me SICK w ur lack of creativity ITS A FUCKING SCIFI u will b hearing ab my two jedi ocs soon btw bc of this
Cannot make ts up i saw a star wars like y/n aesthetic post and there was business casual outfits 💔💔💔 babe. If i’m ruling a fucking planet maybe I will… a. Dress the way the rest of the planet does or b. Be fucking DRIPPY?!?!?? None of this business casual??? Hello we have little miss ruled a planet at 14 as the blieprint? And HER DAUGHTER LITTLE MISS PRINCESS OF A PLANET AND LEADER OF THE REBELLION???
U ppl make me SICK w ur lack of creativity ITS A FUCKING SCIFI u will b hearing ab my two jedi ocs soon btw bc of this
FEZCO O'NEILL x F!READER
ASHTRAY x MATERNAL!READER
EUPHORIA
My FEZCO Masterlist
Summary: Rue visits the house when you're leaving, unfortunately, a drug deal is taking place soon. When the phone rings, you're forced to stay and as Fezco feared, Mouse takes a liking to you, even gives you the first taste of a particularly hard drug.
Warning(s): Fear, Drugs, mentions of Rape, Laurie’s crazy ass, etc.
Author’s Note: Rest in Peace, Angus...you brought a beautiful character to life.
If you liked this would you Buy me a Coffee?
---
The bill counter on the table slows as the bills flipped through come to a stop, Fezco takes the stack and fixes it neatly against the surface.
Wrapping a band around the cash, he looks up as you appear from the hallway, your bag being pulled over your shoulder. You and Ashtray, the boy is mumbling something to you, looking miserable. Or as miserable as he can look with the disgusted, upturned nose he's giving you as you give him a big smooch on the cheek.
"Hey!" Ashtray swatted you away. "That ain't right, man! We got peoples comin'!" He made a face at you, Fezco chuckled a bit to himself, this was the first time Ashtray hadn't gone tomato red after a kiss from Ma. He was getting used to it, Fez realized with a laugh.
Luckily, you weren't wearing any lipstick this time, but that didn't mean he didn't try to wipe any potential mama's boy imprints you always seemed to leave on his face.
"I know, I know," you could only smile in your humor, before audibly chuckling. Running your thumb along the area, just for safe measure for him, before cupping his cheek. "I'll see you later, ok?"
His chin upturned with confirmation. "Mmm," Ashtray stayed there, eyes flickering up to yours as he went quiet for your goodbye. "I'll keep him outta trouble."
"Says the trouble," you snickered, to which his lips shifted with glee at, he's the business partner for a reason after all. "You always do, I know you got him," you pinched his chin lovingly, before straightening, bag in hand. "Just be safe, babe. Ok?"
Ashtray nods, sharply, face finally burning red. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." He then half-heartedly shoves you towards the hall, "Now, get outta here, man. We got work to do."
"Alright, alright," you put your hands up, taking a few skipping steps down the hall towards the living room. "I love you!"
Ashtray grumbles, embarrassingly. "Just get out of here!" he disappears back into the hallway, jumping a bit too boyishly back into his bedroom.
Fezco could laugh, but he held it back, he didn't need the boy more embarrassed then he pretended to be during most of your motherly habits.
You chuckled to yourself as you spun around from the hallway, eyes finally landing on your boyfriend, Fezco. Your smile never dampening, only growing bashful as you slowly glide around the couch, tracing your fingers along the fabric.
Fezco clears his throat, breaking eye contact.
Shit.
He didn't want you to leave.
I mean, well, he did. You had to leave, no question.
Mouse was nothing to play with. And Fezco made it perfectly clear he did not trust any of his dealers when it came to being around you. Least of all Mouse.
Its always been out of the question to get you involved in any of this, if he could help it.
He was literally inviting danger to his doorstep, if he could pride himself on anything it was that he'd distanced you from most of it, you couldn't put name to face, you hardly knew the shit he sold. Not that you didn't recreationally partake from time to time, but that was usually with him.
You grew up with smokers, so sharing a stick together used to be the closest thing you had ever came to a type of high.
Fezco wasn't necessarily proud he introduced you to drugs, it wasn't even related to how you met, or why you stayed. Why you stayed... Something that confused him to this day, god, you could be anywhere, be with anyone, BE anyone.
But, you were here. Lighting up the house with love, painting a picture of a family he had to think was impossible until you came into his life.
God, he was absolutely obsessed with the addiction he'd found in you. Easily a pinnacle high.
And so, there was no debate, you can't stay here tonight.
Fezco swallows, thickly.
He glances in your direction, as he tries to get his thoughts together. You're already looking at him, waltzing up casually, as he stands from his chair as you get closer, don't look at me like that, he wanted to say.
You didn't know how easy he gets lost in your presence, time just slipped away. Or maybe you did, maybe you thought the world would slow for the both of you in moments like this, when leaving his side felt like an impossibility.
Sliding your bag off from your shoulder, you let it settle next to your cardigan at the table leg. "Did he have to come today?" you knew the answer, your voice soft but frustrated.
"Yeah, ma. Ain't nothin' I can control right now," Fezco answers quietly, watching as you slide your hand across the table delicately, tracing the grain. "It'd just be us tonight. If I could."
"Business is business," You slide the ring of your keys into your palm, humming your understanding. You glance back from your keys that you slide behind you, back up to him. "Update me, ok? Don't forget." Safety check-ins after deals like this were always your number one rule, no exceptions.
He assures you, "I know, baby," stepping close to run his hands over your arms, his palms are warm and his thumbs dig in with a gentle pressure.. "I ain't forgettin', I gotchu."
"And eat something," you added. "There's leftovers from earlier. You never eat right on days like this."
Fezco chuckled. "You keepin' notes or somethin'?"
"Or somethin'." you teased back.
BZZZZ...BZZZZ...
His phone goes off , you don't turn recognizing the harsh alarm as the one he'd set to give you enough time to rush out before his exchange went down tonight.
They both release a breath, before he turns back at the replicated sound. Straightening to face you again, "Hey," he breathes at your pout.
Fezco lifts his phone, turning off the alarm. "You text me when you're home, ight?" he leans down to take your bag off the floor, his other hand now rested on you hip, held it right. Pinching the skin, tenderly, "Hear me?"
"Mm hmm." You inch into him, brows that pinch when you're about to lean in.
"Ok?" he repeated, he noticed.
"OK."
You had his face in your hands then, kissing him, hard. Breathlessly.
Pulling back to look at him, "And you'll call me when it's over." A reminder, instead of a question, you made clear of that. Pretty eyes that bore into his, easily stealing what little attention he'd given to anything else but you.
You kissed him again, he's pressing his lips to yours just as your pulling away. "Not a second after, ok?" You instructed, sternly. Though the worried crease in your brows made your intentions clear and left no room for debate.
He nodded, thoughtlessly, that was all he could manage. Mouth open and leaning down for another taste even as you blabber out another word. "I will, I will."
Not when you're pulling him down by the collar like this.
Again, your eyes dart to his lips, and unable to help yourselves, he's diving in for another when his alarm goes off again, the two of you pausing and then staring.
Alright, they've got ten minutes to get you out of here. Fuuuck...
Fezco grabs your keys off the floor, fits your cardigan between the holes of your bag and snatches your sneakers up for you to step into as you both rush towards the hallway to the door.
"Text me as soon as you're in, alright?," Fezco jogs after you, as you pepper kisses while backtracking to the gated door. "Come on, ma," he complains, half-heartedly, as you kiss him full on the cheek longer.
"I'm sorry," you apologize, before kissing him again. "Ok, I love you," he opens the door as you step into your shoes. Ashtray presses the release from the security room and the gate clicks open. It's raining, it hits the metal loudly, your car was just in front so there was no need for an umbrella.
Still, enough to get drenched as soon as you step out.
He's pushing open the doors for you, the two of you just stepping out when Rue rushes over. "The fu--Rue?"
The girl's a bit out of breath, curly hair sticking to her face from the rain.
"(Y/n) Baby cake!" she fired hand guns spouting the dumb nickname, before taking both of your hands to spin around and stumble her way into the house.
Pulling you back inside for a hug, she's completely soaked, easily clinging your shirt. "That was fast, came to see me? Or are you leaving already?" Rue gasped. "No, no, I haven't seen you in forever, come back. Distract Fez while I raid, alright? Cool."
"What, no--"
The curly haired girl excitedly runs off then, makes her way into the hallway, "Hold on! Rue!" Fezco doesn't have time to grab her when she's already strutting onto the carpet and around the corner, looking for the usual.
"How'd you guys know I was outside? Shit, I didn't even ring yet," she laughed, impressed. "Oh, that a hickey?" she snickered, pointing nowhere in particular at you, already trapezing through the house.
"Rue! What're you--" you close the doors, the security click sounding, just as Fezco''s rushing after the girl. "oh my, fuck--"
"Nah, Rue, you can't be here right now," Fezco shouts after her. "I need you out!"
Rue scoffed. "Oh, come on, I've seen porno's crazier than what you two get up to. Just act like I'm not even here."
Bursting into the living room, you follow after Rue as she throws off her sweater, looking to get comfortable. "Jesus, Rue," you pick it up off the couch as you follow behind Fezco.
Ashtray's head peeks out from the security room, brows raised in surprise as Rue trudges through the hall, he speaks aloud. "The fuck is she doin' here?" and then he sees you, yelling after you. "What the fuck are you still doin' here?!"
"I was leaving!" you sighed as you rushed past him. "And don't cuss at me!"
Ashtray rolled his eyes, sitting back into his chair, checking the outer camera feed.
"Look, I just need a couple OCs and some socks," Rue plopped down on a bed in the back rooms, pulling off her soaked socks and started opening drawers.
Fezco cornered her in his room, frustrating eating at him. Glancing at the time on his phone. "Yo, for real Rue, you gotta go! I can't help you right now, come back in a few hours, I gotchu. But right now, you need to get up outta here."
You came up next to him, holding her jacket. Throwing it back at her as she pulled on some new socks, "Hey!"
"He's not joking around, Rue," you reiterated. "People are coming. And it'd be better if neither of us were here. You need to come with me."
Rue glanced between the two of you. "This is the weirdest intervention ever," she kicked off her jacket as she pulled on her socks. "Look, Fez, I'm drenched, and I'm out of drugs so...don't be dicks."
You pinched the bridge of your nose. "Oh god," shaking out your hands, you may just have to drag her out, kicking and screaming.
Fezco cursed, tensing up. "That ain't the fucking problem Rue!" they had less than five minutes, he was sure. " I need you to get up out my house right now before theses motherfuckers come through, for real!"
"Look, look, look, all I need are some OCs and a couple of Xanies, that's all," Rue explained.
You hummed, irritated. "Sure," you stepped forward, grabbing her forearm. "At my house. Let's go."
Rue's face pinched in confusion. "The only pill I've ever seen in your bathroom is a Tylenol."
"Uh huh," cause that's is all you had at home. "Well you're a terrible influence."
"Me?!" Rue laughed, appalled. Before glancing back at Fezco, who gave her glare at her clear insinuation. "Wait, wait, my jacket!"
You pulled her back with you, knowing she caught sight of a pill bottle as they passed by the security room. Shrugging off your cardigan, you tossed it over her head, "Here."
She puts it on, but isn't satisfied. "I know you don't got Xanies..."
"And you not hearing me when I say you ain't stayin', Rue," Fezco reminds.
Rue grinds herself to a halt, thinking hard, before she yanks herself through your grip, running around to the couch, flipping onto the cushion. "Prove you got 'em at home, go!" she points.
"Rue! I'm tryin'na tell ya, I ain't got shit right now," Fezco fought the urge to snatch the girl and throw her out. "I got whatever you need , but later. Get out."
"Rue!" your fists ball up, mostly out of your own anxiety. "Please, please, just get out of the damn house. There's some fucking weed to hold you over in the car!"
But Rue, the addict she was, Rue just glared. Staring directly at Fezco, "I know you got something, Fez." He was hiding it from her, he had to be, so why should she leave?
"Jesus Christ..." you ran a hand down your face. "Just come with me. Stay with me at mine, and then in a few hours, we're back here for you to do whatever," coming up to Rue as she braces herself on the backend of the couch. "I'm dead serious, I don't want you here when they get here, ok?"
Rue's brows furrowed at the softened delivery of your last sentence, now you have her attention. Her mouth opening but only a confused, "uhhh..." follows before she's glancing at Fezco, who's staring at the time on his phone. "You said who's coming again?"
Just as Rue's beginning to pull herself off the couch. Fezco opens his mouth to say something, "Rue--" while you're already pulling her to the doorway, and then the phone rings.
Stopping both women in their tracks.
Fezco stares down at the screen, the caller ID, and then sighs.
Making eye contact with you as your shoulders drop, realizing you were out of time, his lips press together guiltily.
His eyes flicker to Rue. "I could fucking kill you right now," he says, walking to the dinner table. He takes the walkie talkie, "Yo, Ash, they're here."
"Crap," the boy responds before the radio cuts silent.
Fezco gathers the money off the table, puts down the radio, walks over to the couch and fishes out the handle to a gun. That he checks for a loaded magazine before shifting the safety.
Rue swallows hard on the couch.
You breath out, running a hand down your hair. "Rue," you start. "Come."
You're already walking down the hallway. Rue swiftly follows, side stepping an angry Fezco.
"Ma," Fezco calls.
"She's not staying out here."
"If they find her..."
"They won't!" you argued. Giving your bag to Rue, pulling your cardigan hoodie over her hair. "They won't, right?" you stop and ask Rue.
Rue swallows, before nodding fast. "I can be quiet. I mean, when it counts, I can be quiet."
Pulling her into the farthest opposing room, you release her to move a few things around in the darkest corner of the room. Which happens to be with Grandma Marie, still sleeping peacefully as she always has in the hospital bed. "Sorry, OG," you whisper, before guiding Rue over.
"Touch nothing, say nothing, keep fucking still," you instruct Rue, pulling her into the corner, as far away from Grandma Marie as possible but in the busier corner of the room where she'd be much harder to spot if anyone were to glance in.
Rue wordlessly fixed herself into place, taking your bag and holding it tight in the corner as you moved a box in front of her to obscure her at least a bit. "Do. Not. Move."
You stepped away as you heard the front door slam shut and Ashtray whispering harshly behind you, "You gotta get over there!" before rushing out the room.
"(Y/n)..." Rue spoke finally as you began to pull the door closed, palms sweating, face flushed with anxiety.
You turned back to her.
"I..." she tried.
"Just don't move. It's ok," you assured her.
Rue watched as the hallway lighting vanished from the room, chest heavy as she recalled the terrified expression on your face as you pulled the door shut.
---
"So, this your bitch, huh?"
Your eyes flickered upwards from beside Fezco, tenses up at the question. You must've zoned out.
"Huh?" you didn't mean to say anything, but it made the man laugh.
Mouse.
As you make eye contact, his smile curls slow, a flash of gold in his teeth and the lighting makes his faded facial tattoos look more intense.
"Nah man, this ma girl, ma wife," Fezco gritted out, but he tried to keep his animosity to a minimum. "Ain't no bitch here."
Mouse snickered, before shrugging as if he could respect that. He drops to one knee to get eye level with you, staring like he's got nowhere else to be. With his palm extended for you to take, "Mmm,' he starts off, getting a good look at your face. "Well, hello there, wifey."
"Um, hi," your mouth dry.
He chuckled, clearly he found you interesting. "Got caught in the rain, huh?"
"I--" you didn't have to look down to feel your wet shirt sticking to you. Enough for the lace of your bra to show through. Fuck me, Rue. "I did."
"Course you did, mamas," Your eyes flicker anywhere but the eyes that haven't stopped trailing you since he'd walked in, extending your hand to shake. He takes it, instead pulling your knuckles up for a kiss, he keeps eye contact every second. "My name is Mouse," he introduced. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
You couldn't seem to find the words, he wasn't waiting for any, he turned his attention to a tight-lipped Fezco, beside you.
"Hmm," Mouse says, before he's pulling you off the couch with a jerk to the hand.
You follow with a surprised sound, pulled right out of Fezco's range just as he reaches out. "Wait--"
"Hey!" Fezco's already standing, hands shaking. "That ain't cool, man! What you think you doin', Mouse?"
"Relax, man," Mouse spins you around, enjoying the view, and sits you down on the opposing couch, facing Fezco. "I ain't know what ya'll got planned sittin' close like that, just precaution. This," he pinches your chin briefly. "Makes the room more...spread out."
Mouse smirks toward Fezco, who's eyes constantly flicker from you to him. "Sit down already. Let's get down to business," he demands. To which Fezco, not wanting the man to be here any longer than he needed, sits carefully. "Alright. Custer toss me that bag!"
The dealer walks around the couch, away from you, and you finally take a breath. Fisting the cushions beneath, you push yourself back onto the couch, eyes flickering up to Fezco, who leans forward at your attention, hands fidgeting and holding tight. You alright?
Your palm spread out wide over your bare thighs, you couldn't believe you wore a fucking skirt today. I'm fine.
But to Fezco, it looks like you were about to be sick.
Mouse took some plastic out the bag Custer provides him. "Alright, check it," he holds out a few things. "I got 100 OP-OC 80s, 500 Xanny bars, 500 20s of Addy," he listed off as the pill bottle clacked and the pills rattled with every push onto the table. "I'm low on Vikes, so if you wanna cop out some Vikes. You better cop 'em today, cause I got 50 left--" he just kept listing and you glanced off to the side, behind you was Custer. From across the room, Ashtray stood at a doorway, you were glad he was far out of interest to the two men.
Ashtray sees the gun in Custer's pocket, eyes pointedly looking to Fezco, communicating that instantly. He watches his brother's jaw flex at the info, before pressing his hand against the crack of the cushion where his pistol laid.
The boy then looks over to you, the woman's that had become his mom in the years they've known you, he hated that you were still here, god, he could kill Rue.
"Custer, what's the math on that?" Mouse finishes up.
"Uh, 25, 15, 1,100, 35, 77 and 25," he counts off. "7,750."
Fezco takes out the paper bag he's prepared. "Here."
He tosses the bag of money up and at Mouse, who tosses it right to Custer after feeling out the stacks.
Mouse steps around from the table. "Sure you don't want no Fentanyl?"
"Nah man, I'm cool off that shit," Fezco rejects. "Too many ODs and I don't want the heat."
Mouse didn't like that much, but he didn't show it. Not as he came around the couch, staring down at you, already peering up at him, "What about you, wifey, huh? Ever tried Fentanyl?" he comes to sit beside you.
"No," you said, your voice much too small.
"She's good, bruh." Fezco didn't like his shift in attention.
But, Mouse pays Fezco no mind, doesn't even look at him as he leans in closer to you. You look away, he's much too close. "Got hub talkin' for you, huh?" his arm comes around the couch bend and fists his fingers into your hair.
That's a question, he needs an answer. You remind yourself, you try to just look at your boyfriend, though seeing his rage and clearly being just as uncomfortable as you were, if not more, didn't help.
"He just, knows more about this stuff..." you say. Mouse's fingers trail your shoulders, near your neck. "...than I do."
"Not more than me, though," Mouse interjects, before shifting over. "Don't look at him. Look at me. You think he knows more than me?"
You're sure it's not wise to say yes, not as he presses you to make eye contact, he stares you down, hard. You shake your head, reluctantly, throat closing.
"That's right. Ain't nobody knows more than me about the game, wifey," Mouse gloats, rubbing your shoulder. "So, you don't got nothing to worry about, do you?"
You didn't answer, and his hand comes up, taking a lock of your hair between his fingers.
He pulls your hair over your shoulder, behind your ear. "You ever try it?" Fentanyl.
Mouse's calloused thumb drags over your check, his hand briefly cupping around your lips to see your pout. You're sure he's just trying to piss off Fezco, who's digging into the arm chair, trying to keep calm.
"Mm mm," you try to shake your head.
"Yo, for real, bruh," Fezco speaks up, voice lifting in his turmoil. "I don't want her fuckin' with that shit. At all, man. She ain't with that."
Mouse leans close, looking to pique your interest. "You know that feeling when you come so hard you can't feel or hear shit?" he questions. "You like that feeling? I know you like that feeling..."
"Sure," You glanced at him. "Doesn't everybody..."
Oh, shit. Was that the wrong this to say?
Mouse immediately grins, bursting out a short laugh, looking over at Fezco, then Custer.
"Mmm, That's a good answer. I like that," he glances over toward Fezco, smirking in his humour. "I like your girl, man. This a good bitch," He then leans down, snatching up the bookbag, "So, you're gonna love this," Mouse fishes through a few of the plastic wraps.
Mouse flipped open a knife then, startling you, unraveling a bag to take out a white packet. He pokes the metal into the bag, ripping it open, a bit of the liquid catches on the knife at the very tip.
He raises the knife in front of you, the sight of it makes your skin grow cold.
"I'm fine, really." Your press your lips closed. "I've never..."
"What?" Mouse chuckled at your flushed face, the color that had left it. "Never what? Come on, take a lick. What, you don't trust me?"
"Come on, bruh," Fezco seethes to the side. "She said she's good."
"Shut the fuck up, bitch," Mouse cursed him, glaring his way. "Ain't nobody talkin' to you!" He then turns to you, whispering close to you ear, knife so close it could cut you instead. "Tell hubby over there, nobody talkin' to him right now."
Your eyes lock on Fezco's right across from you, you hadn't even realized you were shaking. He looks so guilty, eyes much too expressive to be hidden from Mouse's sight, you wonder if he just doesn't like Fezco or if he just likes playing with his dealers.
Or if he just really likes torturing you.
"Come on," Mouse continues. "Tell him to 'Shut the fuck up'."
You don't, eyes flickering down to the knife he'd raised toward your chin, that had begun to graze your bottom lip.
"Don't be scared, mamas," Mouse suddenly snatches the back of your neck, making you jump. "It ain't gonna bit you."
"Bruh, stop touchin' her like that!" Fezco tries not to get too loud, there's a shakiness to his voice that maybe Mouse doesn't notice, but you do. "She don't mess with that shit."
"Yeah," he can tell. The man palms your thigh, maybe to test Fezco further. "Yeah, she don't. So, why not get the experience? Try it." He raises the knife further, this time between your closed lips. "Open, come on, good girl, open up. Try it."
You wanted to cry from the pounding in your nerves, heart beating fast enough to give anyone a heart attack.
Taking a final look at Fezco, who's put a hand up to his head, he runs it down his face, shaking his head, but he knows you don't really have that chocie.
Fuck, you should've just left.
Your lips close around the drop.
Mouse grins, proudly. "There."
The knife sliding from between your lips, you release a shaky breath, that feels more like the beginning of a sob. God, do you feel pathetic.
You inhale, trying to remember to breathe, as you lock your hands between your legs.
And now, he waits. Staring closely. Fezco can't look as you shrink away from Mouse's knife that he still holds at his lap.
You look so scared, and he can't help the sick feeling in his stomach, his throat tightening as he watched the drug you'd never even thought of take effect. He tried to find the words that you needed, he leaned forward as your eyes began to dilate, "I ain't goin' nowhere," he assures you, steadily. "Right here, whole time. You're just gonna ride it out, a'ight?"
You feel yourself nod, but for a second the ground seems to close and you keep yourself steady. Just ride it out...
They don't have to wait long when your hands ball up into your thighs, you lean forward a bit. Releasing a breath, Mouse chuckles. "Yeah, that shit works quick."
You're not sure if you like it...
But, nevertheless, the high catches you pretty instantly.
Blinking once, twice, before its harder to open your eyes. You lift your hand to your face as you feel heavy all of a sudden, your arm never lifts, instead you're following it down to the couch cushion.
Fezco watches as your head lolls, eyes fluttering, breath turned shallow, your body folding into the couch. Hair obscuring your face, your arm sinks to the carpet off the couch, you let out a gasp of a sound before completely slumping into your high.
This is your fault, Fezco says to himself. Your fault.
God, he's never felt more like shit.
But, with you, there’s become a floating calm, heavy and numbing, the world slipping a step farther away with every second.
There's a hand tracing circles on your skin, sending intense signals through your brain, but you just blink slowly, eyes locked on Fezco. Who hasn't looked away since.
One.
Twooo.
Five.
Eight...
Is that right?
Mouse's fingers run down your thigh, his nails biting into you gentle, possessive, pinching your skin as he leans over, his fingers snapping the lining of your panties back to your hip with a laugh. "You like the way that feels?" he asks, looking at Fezco.
"I dunno..." you drawl.
Mouse pulls your legs over his, shifting closer to you. "What's that mean?" he questions. "Don't you want some patches, girl?"
You hardly had an idea of what he was on about. "I don't..th'k I should.."
Mouse wasn't satisfied. "I think you should take a few patches," he surveyed the curve of your ass on the sofa, your skirt having pulled up. "Don't you agree with me?"
"Ok..." you breathed out.
He gave Fezco a humored look, flipping out three patches. "It's gonna cost you $300," he fits them under the band of your underwear. "Come on, pay up, wifey."
"I'm..." you say. He wants money? "I have half..."
Fezco closed his eyes briefly at Mouse's baiting. He kept his eye on the rise and fall of your chest, panic wasn't even close to the feeling he had stirring in his gut.
Mouse's hand climbs up, crawling up her skirt that hadn't done its job tonight. "How you gon' pay the other half, hm?"
"Mouse, man--" Fezco gritted out, violently. Forced to watch as he tapped the blunt of his knife against your ankle at his tone.
"I don't do a lot of...pills," you mewl, letting out a startled noise before sinking into the couch again. "I shouldn't have..." your words get lost in the mist.
"Yeah, well I got a strict no return policy, so get that outta ya head, wifey," Mouse cackled, slapping a palm onto your heated skin. You make no reaction.
And so, he's had more than enough. "Yo, I'm payin' for it man," Fezco held up the cash.
"Thought you were too good for Fentanyl," Mouse scoffed. "What is it? Everybody's changing their motherfuckin' minds on me?"
Custer laughed. "Yeah." He then glanced over at the boy in the doorway, Ashtray wasn't lookin' at him anymore, his eyes on you, slumped on the couch.
"If she can't afford it, she gon' have to find another way to pay me," Mouse said, nose upturned at the young man that clearly thought he was better than him. "Straight up."
Fezco should've shot Mouse in the face with what he was insinuating on doing to you, on the shit he's pulled tonight. But he knew best than to do that with you right in his grip and a knife still in his opposite hand.
"Just let me pay for it, man. She my wife," Fezco takes his hand from the couch, standing. "I got the money right here."
Handing over $300 to Mouse, eyes locked on you as you're quick to knock out now.
"Dang, that's that real marriage shit, huh," Mouse counted, while you moaned at the mention. "But, price just went up. It's $600 now."
Fezco gritted his teeth, but forked over the extra $300. He didn't trust himself to say anything else as he walks to the opposite side of the couch, closest to your head.
"Pleasure doin' business with you," Mouse smirked finally. Taking a last look at you, hands sliding off your thigh, he stands to fix his jacket. "Later, little wifey."
You exhale, heavily. No words leave you for him.
Not until Fezco comes into view. "Fez..." you mewl.
He goes down to his knee in front of you, your eyes had already begun slipping closed, recognizing him briefly as you moaned. "Oh, ma, hey. I'm right here," Fezco whispered, moving your hair out of your face as you breathe slowly against the cushion. "You're ok, I gotchu."
He lifts your hand from the floor holding it tight and letting it settle on the couch by your face.
"I like my bitches lightweight too," Mouse says to Fezco, while lighting a cig between his fingers, before him and Custer make their way out of the house.
Fezco is quick to action as the door slams to a close, fishing the packets off your underwear as Ashtray comes over. A hammer in hand, and an anger he hadn't acted on yet, Fezco's too lost in the moment to see how it's still violently building in his eyes.
"Get the Narcan, just in case, and get rid of these." He hands his brother the packets and points down the hallway.
Ashtray follows his instructions, putting the hammer down on the way.
Fezco turns and returns to your side, a blanket in hand. He pulls it over you, up to your shoulders, you're already feeling feverish though.
He doesn't shift you too much, there's nothing to heave out, or a needle to pull from your skin, there's nothing he can do besides keeping you as comfortable as possible.
All he can do is wait...and watch.
He swallows down the tight pit in his stomach that builds up in his throat, reddening eyes that burn as he settles your head on his lap as you've begun to slip into your slumber.
"I'm sorry..." you drawl, sleepily. "I took it. I didn't..."
The fuck were you apologizing for, he wanted to cry. He stroked your hair, pulling it back and away from you face, holding his palm to the top of your head. "No, ma, it's on me, it's on me," Fezco leaned down to place his lips on your cheek. "It's ok, you're ok. Just rest, ok?"
You're already out.
And with that, Fezco leans back, pinching the bridge of his nose before rubbing his eyes and smearing any evidence of his heartache.
Soon, Ashtray comes to sit on the opposing couch, when he feels a bit composed, Fezco finally looks to his brother.
But, they say nothing, both just sit here, where they both wait together.
A few moments later, Rue comes out of the opposing room.
He had nearly forgotten.
The girl hesitantly enters the hallway, looking into the opposing room before she catches site of Ashtray already staring her down from the living room. She pauses mid stride for a moment at that. "So, your dudes cleared out then, huh?" she awkwardly stepped into the living room.
Fezco hasn't turned to her yet. So, when she's looking around she spots the bags of pills, the drugs unopened, fresh prescriptions, the real, good stuff. "Holy shit..." she breathes out. "What the hell! That's a crazy haul, your guy is the best, oh my shit--"
"Rue!" Fezco lets out an absolutely seething hiss toward her, he doesn't yell or scream, he sneers. Trying his hardest to keep his volume at a minimum, the effort makes him shiver.
Rue's not sure she's ever seen Fezco actually angry. Pissed, yeah. Irritated, definitely, she just tends to have that effect. But, Fezco just wasn't a person she had known to have a real temper, in the way he was glowering at her, she was wrong.
Her voice likes to run away from her despite knowing she should shut up. "What? I was just saying--" she then noticed someone missing. "Did (Y/n) leave already?"
She came closer. Then, seeing you on Fezco's lap, completely out. Beads of sweat already beginning to collect on your forehead.
"Is...everything alright?"
"Ash."
Ashtray lifted himself off the couch, eyes on Rue. He pulls a small bag from his pocket, 4 or 5 pills, the usual. And it's selfish, but she was hoping for more, she doesn't dare say that though.
"Shit, thanks, but..." she dragged. "Um, is she ok?"
"Get out, Rue."
The girl wanted to argue, she also wanted to get the fuck out of here and drown her guilt in the little tablets that put those feelings right to sleep. "I mean, can't I just wait till she--"
"RUE!"
Fezco fumes, enough for a vein to pop. Then he flinches, looking down to make sure he hadn't disturbed you before sighing harshly.
Her hands go up. "Fine, fine! Fuck!" Rue turns quick, making her way down the hall and out the front door. "Fine."
Ashtray locks up behind her, wordlessly. The slam is enough of a tell to his own irritation with her.
Rue clears her throat, walking off the porch and down the walkway, slowly. Her eyes instantly finding your car, she stares at it for sometime, before opening the bag Ashtray had shoved into her hand a moment ago.
She takes a pill, sticking it on her tongue to swallow.
As she snatches up her bike, she waits for the guilt to pass like it always would with every high.
---
An hour or two later, as Ash is beginning to fall asleep on the couch. Fezco decides to move you to the bed, his arms slipping up your knees and around your shoulders, carrying you to the bedroom.
He keeps you turned on your side, his hand braced on your shoulder blade to anchor you there as he blinks back exhaustion. Ashtray crawls onto the end of the bed, deciding to fall asleep there, Fezco tossing a pillow his way.
Ashtray is fast to fall asleep, it was late after all.
Fezco tiptoes around sleep, but he can't.
He has to feel every breath, every shift, every sound, what ifs are infinite right now and he wasn't taking any chances.
He holds you to his chest as you snore quietly, his focus stays locked on the pulse beneath his thumb, on the slow rhythm of your lungs. Every few minutes, placing his lips on your bare shoulder, he whispers small, steady nonsense in case you were listening to him. "You're ok. Stay here. Stay with me."
"You're ok," he mutters against your skin as he blinks slow, the clock glows at 3:40 a.m. when he begins to close his eyes from exhaustion. "I'm here..."
It's 4:12 a.m. when he wakes up to your body tensing up next to him.
"Hey," he rubs your shoulder as you stir to life.
A small, strained sound catches in your throat, a hand clutching at your stomach. Disoriented, you try to lift yourself off the bed, limbs uncooperative, you just slump back to the bed. Fezco quickly leaves the bed, coming around to help you up.
You seemed surprised to see him, hands balled into his sweater as he lifts you. "Fez..."
"I gotchu, ma," he lifts you off the bed. Guiding you forward, he's already sure you'd prefer your first stop being the bathroom. You stumble your way with his help, your weight sagging into him, the ground just won't stop moving!
You drop to your knees in front of the toilet, hands trembling against the porcelain. The first heave hits you hard and sudden, your whole frame shaking with it, enough to make tears sprout. Fez kneels behind you immediately, one hand holding your hair back, the other spread between your shoulder blades, rubbing slow circles along your skin.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, barely louder than breath. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry. You’re okay. Just let it out.”
You cough up what you can, choke, tears spilling without you meaning to. The sick feeling wracks through you in waves, leaving you gasping between them. Fez stays exactly where he is, his hand warm against your back, holding you tight with every shudder.
As the worst of it passes, Fezco stands for a towel, wiping off your face after wetting it. "M' sorry, I woke you," you apologized as you pressed your head into his chest.
He keeps one arm around your shoulders as you sag into him, exhausted, shaking, breathing uneven but real and steady against his chest.
"Don't apologize for anything," he holds you tight on the bathroom floor. "Please."
You sink into him inch by inch, the last of your tension finally giving up. His chin rests against your hair. When your body jerks again with a small wave of nausea, he tightens his hold as you try to settle your stomach. "I'm ok," you hiccup.
He strokes your cheek, leaning down to embrace you and shield you as he should have tonight.
Soon, you both make your way back to bed, both sitting upright, you've leaned into his chest, trying your best to rest.
Lying there like this now, tangled and still, both wrung out in different ways. Ashtray at your feet, exhausted himself. The day sits heavy between them, what almost happened, what did happen...
Maybe he really was the bad influence...
And as if you could hear his thoughts, you turn in his arms. "Stay w'me tomorrow.." you huff out. "Don't leave me..." and you say so in a way he could never betray.
He was the bad influence that could never go away.
And he wasn't proud of that...
He kissed your temple, tenderly. "Never."
For now, you're safe and warm and breathing, and he’s here, as if he would ever go anywhere else.
Your breathing evens out as you let yourself rest. His finally does too, but he takes in every moment.
Interested in more, like this? My FEZCO Masterlist
the heir to fire nation in his grasp. his child. his daughter. perched on his hip. her little arms waving around as zuko gazed.
round cheeked with his eyes and your nose.
her eyes pan over to you, where you stood to the side of your husband.
one hand fisting at the fire lords hair, unintentionally tugging— like babies do— as she looked around. her other hand, patting at his chest. she continued to stare at you, gummy smile appearing. she giggles. then looks to her father.
her smile drops just a little as she stares at dad. zuko glances at you. your eyes catch his.
a beat.
your daughter turns to you. eyes on yours before drifting back to zuko. her head tips.
his eye.
her chubby hand pats it. little fingers fiddling with the skin as she then turns to you again. her attention on the left side of your face before patting her own. assessing.
“I know. s’just me.” zuko says it softly. accepting. unashamed. a difference compared to how he used to think of it when he was younger.
“Get out of my kitchen,” you call out sternly, not turning away from the countertop, eyes closely watching your tiger-claw technique as you dice the sweet onion.
Behind you, in your blind spot, no less, stood your husband and his- as well as your- best friend, trying to sneak in to get a morsel of whatever you had baked last night in the fridge.
That’s when the whining began.
“Why can’t I just have a little taste of the quesilloooo?”
“Because, Toru,” you sighed, scooping the diced onions into a ramekin. “It’s not for you, it’s for the party tonight!”
“Just a little bit, pleeeaaassseeee?” he shuffled forward as you set the knife down. “It’s been so long since I’ve been in Japan, you knowwww.”
You imagine the stupidly cheeky smile on his face, and roll your eyes, grabbing your stainless steel pan and placing it on the hot stove. You turn around to see Toru and your husband behind him, Toru attempting to make puppy dog eyes, and miserably failing.
“You’re 27 years old and you whine more than your two year old neice,” you comment.
His smile leaves his face, and he makes a dramatic expression. You ignore it.
“Go wake her up from her nap, please?” you ask him, and he’s placated. His goddaughter, your daughter, was his favorite person in the world. And vice versa. It was probably because of how similar they were.
“You need help?” Hajime asked when Oikawa left. He knew you hated people in the kitchen while you were cooking, but he also knew you liked being offered help.
“I’m good,” you throw the seasoned ground meat into the hot pan. “Thanks, though.”
He makes quick strides toward you, placing a quick peck on your cheek and walking away.
“I love you,” you call out, but are interrupted by a YOWCH from your toddler’s room, and it sounded suspiciously like a grown man.
“I love you, too,” he replies calmly.
“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa’s voice rang through the corridor. “You didn’t tell me she bites!”
He snickers, “I made sure not to tell him.”
“She gets it from you,” you scoff. “Go get your beast of a daughter.”
Dividers by @pixopix
Leave a comment if u liked 💕 I’m sitting on a Bakugo one rn
