Summary - In which Fezco wouldn’t trade his girl for the world.
Warnings - 18+, minors absolutely DNI, mentions of drug dealing and use, implied smut, strong language
A/N - highly requested fezco x high maintenance gf fic <3 it started out as one thing & then she kinda ran away from me & said bitch i got the wheel move but i hope u enjoy xoxo requests & feedback are always welcome (pls be kind)
It'd happened on a Thursday afternoon, sun high among the puffy white clouds as it beat down on the blacktop.
Fezco could remember the way the thick, stagnant air of summer melted peanut M&Ms in his palm, the candy coated shell staining his hands as he dared at glance at the mounted clock and counted down the hours until he could grab Ash, close shop and call it a fucking day. Business had been slow, customers far and few willing to brave the California summer heat as they dropped in for last minute supplies.
Fezco had been anything but prepared when you breezed through the open doors, all strappy heels clicking on concrete and shimmery eyeshadow, asking him if they sold peach lip gloss.
For a split second, he'd been sure his brain had short circuited but he couldn't tell if it was from the shock of someone genuinely thinking this looked like an establishment that carried lip gloss, or if it had more to do with that fact that you'd been standing so close he could smell the sweetness of your perfume.
"So, is that a no?" He must've been quiet for too long because you were speaking again, head tilted with an amused smile playing on your painted lips, voice ringing in his ears like bells.
Looking back, he wishes he could drag himself outside by the collar and bash his head off the pavement for acting like such a goddamn fool, fumbling around his thoughts like a thirteen year old boy who just brushed hands with the pretty girl from math class.
"Yeah, nah, sorry, ma," Rising from his chair, Fezco came to stand beside you, leaning casually on the counter behind him as some Eazy E song continued to drift faintly from the old speakers. "I don't think we got no lip gloss, but I'd be happy to help you with somethin' else."
A perfectly sculpted brow shot up at that, grin widening on your pretty face as you shifted on your heel to scan the humming coolers behind you. "Damn," You mused, pretending to peruse your options. "Got any grape soda?"
He'd charged you fifty cents and sent you on your way with a bottle of Fanta clutched in one manicured hand, making a mental note to add peach lip gloss to the next stock order.
You'd stopped by for a second time in the week that followed, sparkling pins scattered strategically throughout your hair and cat eye sunglasses pushed low on the bridge of your nose as you tilted them at him in greeting.
"You feel like you were missing out on a prime business opportunity or am I just special?" It wasn't long before you were in his line of vision again, beaming up at him as you placed three tubes of shiny peach lip gloss on the countertop.
"Nah, ma, you just special." The teasing tug of his lips and the way he kept his cerulean eyes trained on yours over the rim of your glasses made your head fuzzier than you were willing to admit.
“Cute,” You prayed to whatever higher power was listening that the heat flooding your cheeks wasn’t noticeable as you ducked your head, carding through the wasteland of your purse. “How much do I owe you, player?”
He’d taken your name and number and called it even, savoring the feel of your skin against his as he plucked the slip of pink paper from between your fingers.
“You better use it,” You’d thrown over your shoulder, hips swaying in a way he tried not to focus too hard on as you walked away from him. “And you’d better not leave me waiting too long.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, pretty girl.”
Fezco thought of those first moments often, the pivotal points that lead to where you lay now, sleeping serenely on his chest with your fist curled into his neck and legs twisted around his beneath the sheets, playing over and over in his head like one of his grandma’s old records on loop.
Sometimes he felt as if someone had hit fast forward on his life, his days moving past him at warp speed like he was on a rollercoaster that went on and on, never stopping to let him off regardless of the twist in his gut and the ache in his bones. The worst part, the part that wriggled into his brain like a worm and burrowed into the gray matter like it was home is that he couldn’t remember ever getting on the ride.
Shit, he couldn’t even remember buying a ticket.
Whichever way you spun it, Fezco was on and all he could do was pray his seatbelt held and tighten his white-knuckled grip on the safety bar when shit got bumpy.
There were few things that made him feel as if he could breathe, like the soles of his sneakers were planted on solid ground, safe among the dirt and the grass and the bugs even if it was just for a moment.
Blue Sour Patch Kids and cold orange soda.
His tired body sunken into the old sofa, blunt smoke curling in the air as Ashtray’s favorite show flickered across the television screen. The laughter of his little brother who’d grown up far faster than he should have had to, putting the role Fezco wished he’d never had to play to bed ‘til morning.
You.
There was a sweet brand of solitude that came with being in your orbit, a silent kind of reprieve from the incessant noise that followed him like a pesky fly buzzing in his ear.
He found it in the way you said his name and the soft drag of your knuckles across his back when the weight of the world held upon his shoulders felt as though it was suffocating him, the oxygen filling his lungs suddenly so thick he thought he might choke if it weren’t for the delicate brush of your mouth against his skin in the dead of night.
In the way your brow creased and a pretty pout puckered your lips, soft whine bleeding into your tone when things didn’t go according to your plan, and the way you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky as he kissed it away, murmuring hushed reassurances into the soft flesh of your neck.
You’d even managed to grow on Ash in the months that had passed, and that was saying something considering the kid regarded newcomers with a steely disposition and indifference like no other. He liked that you didn’t treat him like a kid, acknowledged him as an equal. The fact that you fed him like it was your day job probably didn’t hurt your case either.
Fezco spent more time than he’d ever admit to you wondering what kind of saint he had to have been in a past life to deserve you in this one. Your world was one that should never have been be meshed with his and yet they were entwined, gnarled together like the roots of a tree.
He could recall the first drop meeting you’d been present for like it was yesterday, could see the way your legs that’d been swinging carelessly from your spot on the kitchen counter stilled and the resounding pop of pink bubblegum between your lips quieted at the sight of men you didn’t know taking residence in your place of comfort.
Your stubborn nature had refused to let your intimidation seep through the cracks of your carefully constructed facade, but Fezco knew. He knew in the tense set of your jaw, the way your eyes flicked exclusively between his frame and your rhinestone dotted nails as your spine straightened.
It made his chest ache and his throat tighten, the shame and the doubt wrapping itself around him like thorny vines digging in.
You shouldn’t have been there. You should have been somewhere warmer, somewhere safe, flashing those eyes shining with cherries and wine at a better man on a better path. Those notions that hung over his head like a guillotine carried him all the way to the couch that night, arm wrapping you up and holding you to him like it’s the last time it ever would.
“Imma need you to listen, baby,” The words tasted bitter in his mouth and you were already pulling yourself from his grip, looking into his eyes like you were looking through glass. You’d always been able to see his thoughts more clearly than he could himself.
“No,” Your voice was hard and even as you regarded him with fire in your stare despite the unshed tears already welling in your eyes. “No, absolutely not. You don’t get to pick now to be a coward.”
Fezco spoke lowly, words rumbling quietly from his throat as he felt his heart splinter in his chest. “This ain’t the life for you, baby.”
“That’s not up to you to decide,” You asserted, anger burning hot in your veins. “My life is mine, you don’t get to choose it’s course just because shit gets a little scary.”
“I know who you are, what your life is, and what it means to be part of it and I’m still here,” You were pressing yourself against him now, fingertips framing his bearded jaw like they were made to find their home there, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. “I’m staying here.”
With that, he was pulling you to him by the nape of your neck, hand twisting into a fist in your hair as he licked into the cup of your mouth. It didn’t take long before he was flipping your skirt up over your hips, lips drifting down to press a kiss to the cute little bow just below the waist band of your panties before pulling them to the side and fucking you stupid against the cushions.
His pretty baby, whose face lit up like a billboard every time you climbed into the passenger seat of his car and flashed a fresh set of nails at him, too damn cute to be fair. You turned his minutes into hours, every memory with you suspended in freeze-frame behind his eyelids.
He wasn’t sure what to call the space in between but he always thought of you in those intervals.
fezco, Friends with benefits, soft dom if ya can :)
“Use your words” and “did I stutter?”
ILY
As you wish friend.
"Didn't know you were coming tonight." Fez mutters as he pulls down my skirt in one seamless movement and I bite my lip to bite back the moan that so desperately wants to escape me.
"Wanted to see you. Haven't seen you since you fucked me in your car last week. Not nice to ditch a lady." I find his lips quickly, letting him take me into his arms and dominate the kiss, his hand cradling the back of my neck as his thumb presses into the side of my throat. I moan against him as my brain fogs, his lips parting from mine as he shuffles out of his jeans, shoving them to his ankles as he spins me around to press against the bathroom sink.
"See me now?" He asks, reaching around me to grab my chin so I can see him in the mirror, my breaths coming out in short gasps. I give him a weak nod as I desperately press my hips back into him, wiggling playful to try to get him to do something- anything. "Use your words." He whispers in my ear, nose dragging against my cheek as I moan wantonly.
"Fuck me now, Fez." I grit, pleased with myself for actually managing to voice what I want from him, even if it took my brain a few seconds to process it. But it's hard to think of anything but his fingers gripping my hips and the feeling of his hard cock pressing against my ass.
"Yeah?" He asks, pressing heated kisses to the curve of my spine, grinding against me in a taunting manner. My breath catches in my throat as I push back against him once more.
"Did I stutter?"
"Damn-what's with the attitude, doll." He laughs, dragging the tip of his swollen cock against my slit, slowly and anticipatory excitement floods my mind as he smirks. "You know me, I always take care of you."
