Hi! Wheezy and Chester here, off to introduce ourselves!
We are two individual writers, but we write together. Our content will be quite inconsistent because how we work is that one of us writes the first draft and the second proofreads and adds their own touch. We previously posted our content on Wattpad, but since Wattpad has gone downhill we have found ourselves using Tumblr much more and thought it might be nice to start writing and posting again. As for requests, since we have had so much time in our hands, we have so many ideas that we just know requests won’t be our main priority, so they will remain closed until stated otherwise. Also since we do write these for ourselves the pronouns used as default will be she/her.
We look forward to sharing our creations with you! And hope you love them as much as we do!
me, rereading my own writing: My Guy, Have You Ever Met A Semicolon You Did Not Immediately Take To Bed; Have You Ever Heard Of Ending Sentences, Pal; Why Do You Just Spend All Your Time Caressing Semicolons As You Make Sweet Love To Them; Learn How To Use Commas And Conjunctions You Semicolon Fucker
As a fic writer, i need every reader to know that:
I don’t care if your comment is coherent. I know what you mean and i love you
I don’t care if you ramble. I read every word and i love you
I don’t care if you leave a comment on a fic from four years ago or leave comments/kudos on like ten of my fics in one go. This isn’t IG, pls stalk my AO3. I love you
I don’t care if you mention the same thing in your comment that four other people have already mentioned. It’s actually really useful to know what resonated with people and I love everyone who takes the time to tell me they liked a particular turn of phrase
I don’t mind if your comment is super long or just a couple of sentences, i love them all
As a fic writer, i need every reader to know that:
I don’t care if your comment is coherent. I know what you mean and i love you
I don’t care if you ramble. I read every word and i love you
I don’t care if you leave a comment on a fic from four years ago or leave comments/kudos on like ten of my fics in one go. This isn’t IG, pls stalk my AO3. I love you
I don’t care if you mention the same thing in your comment that four other people have already mentioned. It’s actually really useful to know what resonated with people and I love everyone who takes the time to tell me they liked a particular turn of phrase
I don’t mind if your comment is super long or just a couple of sentences, i love them all
you wanna talk about why content creators are leaving tumblr and leaving you high and dry without material to fantasize over? let's talk about it.
hmm, lets see!
first of all, none of you fucking care to reblog our work. we are all aware of how tumblr's algorithm is absolute trash. writers have been BEGGING for readers reblog their works bc it's the only way our works can be seen and in turn, we receive the fruits of our labor via followers and exposure. but no, lets make MORE THAN HALF of the likes to reblog ratios consist of fucking LIKES. on top of that, we don't we shit on writers for wanting the absolute BARE MINIMUM aka a REBLOG bc well, they're not entitled to it aren't they? while writers aren't necessarily entitled to notes, answer this; do you work for free? do you bust your ass doing something knowing that there will be no pay off what so ever? that's what i thought.
secondly, you treat us like shit. you expect us to spit out content like we're a machine and when we don't get to it on time bc we have - idk - LIVES, you send the shittiest asks demanding for more content that you aren't even paying for. do you think people are gonna neglect their real life responsibilities to write for YOU and for FREE? absolutely not. on top of that, when we start writing for ourselves and our own spaces, we get push back. yea, not an effective way to encourage your favorite fic writers to give you more content to consume.
and lastly, YOU STEAL FROM US. each and every fic that a writer puts out has taken hours, days, weeks, or even months to write. that's lots of hard work and time invested into one single piece for you. free of charge. people put their fucking hearts into their work. and what do you do in return? disrespect them in one of the most hurtful ways possible.
so yea, i don't blame a single fucking person for leaving this shithole and NONE of you should be surprised. this is YOUR doing.
and this is why we write when we can and post when we are satisfied. it's a simple boundary that has done so much for us and i think it's the only reason why we still enjoy writing.
You can’t tell someone to avoid using tropes in their writing. Tropes are a literary device. Tropes are there even if you don’t assign your story one. What you’re actually referring to is a cliché, which is something you can choose to not include in your story.
Summary: Cesar and the reader get in a bad fight which reaps consequences neither of them could have seen coming.
Word Count: 6.4k
Pairing: Cesar Diaz x Reader
Warnings: Inaccurate hospital and gang dynamics, death, inaccurate funeral dynamic, blood, Cesar crying A LOT, mentions of death and violence. (As always if we missed something that should be warned for, please let us know!)
A/N: We hope you guys don’t hate us after this one. -W&C :)
(Y/N) stormed out of the crib while Cesar rummaged through his drawers, pretending to be searching for something until he heard the front door shut loudly. Though his searching started as a pretense, he wound up finding something—her hoodie. Cesar was the hoodie-stealer of the relationship, since (Y/N) had so many, and he barely had any. There were two things Cesar adored from wearing her hoodies: the first one being she preferred to get them oversized so when she wore them they swallowed her body, therefore, when Cesar wore them, they would fit him comfortably; the second one was they always smelled like her. If it was anatomically possible to tattoo a scent onto your body, he would’ve gotten her’s permanently engraved into his skin long ago, for she smelled like home; she was home. He would usually and reluctantly, return the article of clothing at the end of the day, but the one he held in his hands he refused to return. The reason for his unwillingness to give it back was simple, yet too emotional for him to ever utter aloud. (Y/N) had been wearing it the first time she ever stayed over at Cesar’s place which turned into their first time sleeping together. She had left it behind during the haste of getting re-dressed and ready in the morning. Ever since that night, he had taken complete possession of the item; he would go as far as to spray the hoodie with her perfume to reinstate her scent once it started to fade. Of course, he would do this while she slept, fearful that if she saw the article, she would try to reclaim it, and he’d have no choice but to give it back. He would occasionally wear it to bed whenever the feeling of missing her got too overwhelming, and he had no way of having her over. Now there it lay, in front of him and on the bottom of the drawer where he hid it.
(Y/N) had left the door to Cesar’s bedroom ajar, allowing Oscar to enter the room without Cesar noticing him. “Are you really gonna let her get away?” he asked, already annoyed by his little brother’s dramatic antics.
AH OMG thank you thank you thank you!!! You have no idea how much comments like these mean to us! They literally motivate us to keep writing so once again thank you and we’re so glad you enjoyed it <3 🥺
Summary: Cesar and the reader get in a bad fight which reaps consequences neither of them could have seen coming.
Word Count: 6.4k
Pairing: Cesar Diaz x Reader
Warnings: Inaccurate hospital and gang dynamics, death, inaccurate funeral dynamic, blood, Cesar crying A LOT, mentions of death and violence. (As always if we missed something that should be warned for, please let us know!)
A/N: We hope you guys don’t hate us after this one. -W&C :)
(Y/N) stormed out of the crib while Cesar rummaged through his drawers, pretending to be searching for something until he heard the front door shut loudly. Though his searching started as a pretense, he wound up finding something—her hoodie. Cesar was the hoodie-stealer of the relationship, since (Y/N) had so many, and he barely had any. There were two things Cesar adored from wearing her hoodies: the first one being she preferred to get them oversized so when she wore them they swallowed her body, therefore, when Cesar wore them, they would fit him comfortably; the second one was they always smelled like her. If it was anatomically possible to tattoo a scent onto your body, he would’ve gotten her’s permanently engraved into his skin long ago, for she smelled like home; she was home. He would usually and reluctantly, return the article of clothing at the end of the day, but the one he held in his hands he refused to return. The reason for his unwillingness to give it back was simple, yet too emotional for him to ever utter aloud. (Y/N) had been wearing it the first time she ever stayed over at Cesar’s place which turned into their first time sleeping together. She had left it behind during the haste of getting re-dressed and ready in the morning. Ever since that night, he had taken complete possession of the item; he would go as far as to spray the hoodie with her perfume to reinstate her scent once it started to fade. Of course, he would do this while she slept, fearful that if she saw the article, she would try to reclaim it, and he'd have no choice but to give it back. He would occasionally wear it to bed whenever the feeling of missing her got too overwhelming, and he had no way of having her over. Now there it lay, in front of him and on the bottom of the drawer where he hid it.
(Y/N) had left the door to Cesar’s bedroom ajar, allowing Oscar to enter the room without Cesar noticing him. “Are you really gonna let her get away?” he asked, already annoyed by his little brother’s dramatic antics.
“Stay out of this,” Cesar warned. Tears were threatening to spill as he clutched the article of clothing in his hands, and he had no intention of letting Oscar see him during his breakdown.
“Stop bitching, and go after her, Cesar,” Oscar advised sternly. Cesar felt a tear rush down his cheek and bowed his head in an attempt to hide it. Oscar felt annoyed. He didn’t want to meddle in his little brother’s girl problems, but he knew that if he didn’t intervene, Cesar would be stupid enough to let her go. He’d sent Juan, another member of the gang, to follow (Y/N) and convince her to let him drive her home. Juan had earned the street name Lil’ Reaper after, in a deadly attack from the Prophets, 5 Santos died on his watch. After much begging and reasoning from Juan, Oscar had pardoned him, but the trust in him had never been the same. This was the first important task Oscar had given the guy since the incident, and he prayed he didn’t fuck up. Oscar wouldn’t forgive him this one and neither would Cesar.
“I said stay out of this, Oscar!” Cesar tried to raise his voice at his older brother, but the sobs he was desperately trying to conceal held his voice back, making it crack in between the last words. More tears started to spill, and Cesar wiped them furiously, hoping his brother didn’t catch on. A choked sob, shook his entire body, and he clutched the hoodie all the more tightly, trying to steady his breathing. Oscar walked over to where he was crouched and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
“Look, I’ve never been one to say these things.” Oscar sighed. “But you’re my little brother, and it’s my duty as your older brother to let you know what you did and said, that was straight up stupid, mano.” He chuckled deeply, failing to see the tears that wouldn’t cease slipping down his brother’s cheeks. Cesar looked up at him, not caring if he saw his moment of weakness, and with his eyes he told Oscar he wasn’t doing such a good job with his “pep talk”. Oscar, never having been one to be empathetic towards others, rolled his eyes at Cesar’s helplessness. “Look, mano, I don’t know what else to tell you. You lashed out at her when, in a way, you know she’s right.”
Cesar was astonished. He waited a few seconds, hoping Oscar would break out in laughter and tell him it was a joke. But the laughter never came. “What?” Cesar scoffed.
“You heard me. Would I ever admit it to her face? Absolutely not. But I can’t overlook the fact that she’s just trying to look out for you, Cesar.”
“Are you serious? You are gonna take her side on this? She’s been insistently trying to get me to quit the gang, and you’re gonna take her side.” Cesar felt appalled. He thought he could count with Oscar to help him get through, but apparently, he couldn’t even count on his own brother.
“She’s never told you to quit, Cesar. All she’s asked of you is that you’re more careful, and she has a point. You can be quite reckless.” Cesar sighed defeatedly. “Look, mano, bottom line is she cares about you, and I know you care about her too.” Cesar bowed his head shamefully. “The hell you standing around here for? Stop weeping, and go get her!” Oscar encouraged, but Cesar stood rooted to his place.
“As much as I hate to admit you might be right, you heard her, compa. She’s not coming back.” It was Oscar’s turn to scoff. This boy was really stupid. Either that or he didn’t know as much about women as he claimed. Which to be fair, it most likely was a mixture of both.
Oscar sighed, hitting Cesar over the head before explaining, “Exactly, hombre, she said she isn’t coming back. Never said anything about you not being allowed to go after her.” As the gears of his brain turned and fell into place, making sense of what Oscar was telling him, understanding dawned upon Cesar’s facial features, and a spark of hope lit up in his heart. Cesar stood up abruptly, almost tripping Oscar. The older brother placed his hands upon the younger’s shoulder encouragingly and said, “Get your whiny ass out of here and go look for her. Don’t come back until you’ve got her back, you hear me? I am not letting you pass up a girl like her.” Cesar nodded enthusiastically and placed the hoodie back in its hiding spot before heading for the door.
Cesar walked with a little pep in his step, going over ways he could admit (Y/N) was right and apologize, without having to explicitly use the words ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘You’re right.’ The first option he considered consisted of climbing through her bedroom window and before she had the chance to curse him in every language she knew, he’d kiss her, saying all the words he wanted to express with his lips rather than his voice. But he knew better; Cesar knew that if he dared try such a thing, she wouldn’t even let him set foot inside her room, pushing him off the roof before he’d have the chance. (Y/N) knew her worth, and as good as that was, it also meant that getting her back was not going to be easy. As he walked, Cesar kept racking his mind for different and more efficient ways in which he could get her back. Turning around the corner, he heard two consecutive gunshots. He picked up the pace and started sprinting when he heard the sound, instinctively guessing the caliber size.
“.44!” He yelled the caliber size into the night and yearned for the sound of (Y/N)’s voice unitizing with his, knowing she would’ve guessed the same if she were beside him. The gunshots seemed to have been about half a block away, and a dreadful gut feeling overtook him. Something in him was pulling him towards the place of the gunshots. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt like he needed to investigate. Making up his mind to break the number one latino horror movie rule: never investigate, Cesar pulled his hood up and turned around. As he walked towards the noise, Cesar realized he’d have to go into Prophet territory. Despite his rational mind yelling at him to turn around and stay on track, he still crossed into enemy lines. Though he hadn’t walked that far in, he already felt out of place. Cesar didn’t know what made him feel more uneasy: being a Santo crossing into enemy territory or the quietude of the street. The silence gave him a false sense of peace, but he knew this is how it always got. Unless it started a gun fight, after hearing a gunshot in gang territory, everything went empty and quiet. No one would dare interfere or stick their noses into whatever had gone down. They knew they’d find out what had happened on the news; it was the safest and smartest alternative after all. Yet there Cesar was, putting his ass on the line because of a hunch.
The next few steps filled him with dread and made him ask himself questions he should have considered before starting his small quest. What would he do if he did find a body? What if they were still alive and conscious? Should he call the cops? These were some of the questions that started running laps around his brain. It was as if with every step he took, another question took the lead. Once more his mind told him to run, to turn around and forget he ever considered trying this, but he persisted. He chose to listen to his instinct and to his gut. It was almost as if he had an internal GPS programmed to find tragedies. His feet and eyes worked on their own. He might have not known what he was looking for or where he was going, but they certainly did. Maybe they knew something he didn’t just yet.
After several minutes of mindless walking, he found it. Lying on the cold, dimly lit curb was a bleeding figure. A female, he guessed, judging by her frame. He took a few steps closer in hopes of getting a good look at her face, at least enough so he could call the cops and give them a description. He kept moving forward, trying to commit as many details to memory, without having to hover over her for too long. The girl was wearing a baggy, maroon shirt and some worn-out jeans, similar to the outfit (Y/N) had been wearing when she left the Santo’s residence. Cesar’s heart sped up when he realized her clothes weren’t similar, but rather exactly the same. He started praying for it to be all a coincidence. Her body was curled up and she was clutching her stomach, attempting to slow the blood flow. Her position forced him to stand even closer to her, and his heart sank when he took in her features. It was, in fact, (Y/N), and she was lying there, in front of him, bleeding out from her wounds which were located on her abdomen. The Prophets she had encountered purposely shot her there so she’d die slowly, as further punishment for rejecting them.
Cesar dropped to his knees in front of her. “No, no, no, no...” Cesar reached and turned her over. The movement brought her to consciousness, but she could barely stay awake.
“Cesar?” Her sweater was covered with blood and some of it was beginning to dry already. (Y/N)’s eyes were only half-way open, and her slightly parted lips were beginning to pale.
“Shh! It’s me. I’ve got you, Angel, don’t worry. I’m here; I’ve got you—I’ve got you.” Cesar held onto her body tightly, placing his hand over one of the wounds on her stomach to try and prevent any more blood from flowing out. He was crying freely now as he buried his face in her neck and pleaded with her to stay with him and be strong.
(Y/N) chuckled slightly, the blood clogging up her throat forcing its way out with a cough. “Just promise me one thing, Cesar.”
“Stop talking. Save your energy, please.”
“Whatever happens to me tonight, promise you won’t blame yourself, okay?”
“I’m not gonna promise anything because you’re not going anywhere, (Y/N).” Cesar knew he was being unnecessarily stubborn, but he refused to lose her because of his dramatic antics. He was choking on his own sobs as he spoke.
“Please, Cesar, promise me you won’t feel guilty.”
“Fine.” Hearing him comply was enough for (Y/N) to feel at ease. She tried her best to open her eyes further, trying to get one last look at the boy who she claimed as the love of her life.
The sound of a car motor could be heard faintly in the distance, but neither of them cared to acknowledge it. The sound got closer and closer, and after taking in one last breath (Y/N) placed a hand on Cesar’s cheek, stroking it lightly, and whispered “I love you, Cesar Diaz.” She closed her eyes, and her hand fell from his face, colliding against the hard concrete with a smack. Cesar desperately hoped to hear her inhale once more, but as he clutched her body close to his, he could feel how her heartbeat lost its rhythm until it was no longer there. Suddenly, the car they had heard in the distance came to a stop in front of Cesar, yet he was too stunned by the brevity of everything to pay the vehicle any mind. Holding (Y/N)’s now lifeless body, Cesar came to terms with the fact he might too die if he didn’t get out of Prophet territory, but the idea of dying as he held his beloved sounded too appealing and so tragically romantic that it paralyzed him, and Cesar readied himself to greet death.
“Cesar, that you?” Oscar’s voice echoed in Cesar’s ears. Cesar sobbed in return, unable to move from the puddle of blood he was kneeling on. Taking in the scene displayed in front of him, Oscar swept his hand across his face in disbelief and frustration.
Finding his voice amidst the body rocking sobs, Cesar said, “I heard the gunshots.” His voice came out hoarse and the moment those words left his mouth, a loud cry followed.
“Oh my God, Oscar, don't tell me she’s—Is she dead?” Juan stepped out of the passenger’s side of the car.
Oscar’s face contorted into his signature angry snarl, “Juan, I swear—Just go sit in the car before you end up with a clip emptied in your head por hablar de más, cabron.” Oscar whisper-shouted, and Juan understood it was better if he complied and kept his mouth shut.
Cesar hadn’t noticed Juan was also there; all his attention was on the body laying atop his now bloodied hands. “I should’ve stopped her, man.” He said bringing Oscar’s attention back to him. “No la hubiese dejado irse.” Cesar sobbed. Oscar hated the sight; he hated seeing his little brother so broken just as much as he hated feeling so impotent, unable to do something to make him feel better. Oscar crouched beside his brother and squeezed his shoulder lightly and reassuringly.
“Come on, mano, we gotta get her out of here.” Oscar made a move to pull her out of his arms, but Cesar retalied, pulling her closer to him. “Cesar, don’t pull this shit now. We have to get out of here before anyone sees us.” Reluctantly, Cesar allowed Oscar to help get (Y/N)’s body into the backseat. Once in the car, Cesar placed her head on his lap. He kept looking down at her, staining her face with his tears in the process. He’d try to wipe them away but in turn would smear blood across her features. Oscar could faintly hear him whispering an abundance of I’m sorry’s, and his heart would break a little more for his brother every time he heard him.
“Oscar?” Juan broke the silence.
“If it’s going to be a stupid comment, shut it.” Oscar deadpanned.
Juan appeared to think it over, pondering whether it was stupid or not. He chose to speak and asked, “Where are we going to take her?” Oscar’s grip on the wheel visibly tightened, but he decided against cursing Juan out in that moment for Cesar’s sake.
“We’re taking her to a hospital, where they can declare her dead and take her to a morgue. That way we’ll be able to give her a proper burial, once they do an autopsy and all that shit they do.” Oscar took a deep breath and whispered a subtle “pendejo” as he exhaled.
They reached the hospital in silence, Cesar’s choked sobs the only sound reverberating through the vehicle. Oscar climbed and opened the door for Cesar, helping him get (Y/N) out of the car. Meanwhile, Juan went to get a nurse or medic. Cesar was still unable to process the situation at hand. His mind refused to accept the fact that (Y/N), the person he loved most in this world, was limp in his arms, dead. He waited and hoped that at any given moment she’d wake up and flash him a smile that would make him weak, but that was not going to happen.
At the doors of the hospital there was a crew waiting for them with a stretcher. Juan stood with them and bore an apologetic look on his face. Hesitantly, Cesar allowed the paramedics to take (Y/N) off his arms and set her down on the gurney. They walked into the hospital with the crew and followed them until they were told they couldn’t go any further. Cesar felt the weight of the whole situation start to pull him down once they lost sight of the stretcher they rolled her away on. He wanted nothing more than to fall on his knees and cry until morning came when he saw how they took her through a pair of large doors. Oscar left to the front desk, providing them with (Y/N)’s parents’ number and started filling out the information he knew on the sheet the secretary gave him. Cesar and Juan stood near the waiting area located close to the entrance. He slid down the wall and hid his face between his knees, and Juan took this as an opportunity to speak to him.
“Look, Lil’ Spooky, I went to Oscar as soon as I saw she went into Prophet territory. I swear, I tried—” Juan cut himself off when he saw Cesar lift his head from in between his knees. He looked livid.
“You saw where she was going, yet you didn’t stop her?” Cesar abruptly stood up and clenched his fists at his side.
“I called out to her, but she didn’t hear me—or maybe she ignored me? Look, it wouldn’t have been wise for me to follow her into enemy territory. That’s why I left to get your brother the moment she crossed.”
“I don’t care about how wise of a decision it would’ve been! If you saw her cross over, it was your duty to bring her back!” Cesar’s voice was cracking, and hot tears were streaming down his face. He shoved Juan back. “Tell me, how does it feel? To have another person added to your body count, how does it feel, huh, Lil’ Reaper?” Cesar taunted as he continued to shove him until he had him against a wall.
“CESAR!” Spooky chastised. “Come on. Let him be.” Cesar had raised his fist at the man but lowered it upon hearing his brother call to him.
“I truly am sorry for your loss.” Juan lowered his head, not wanting to meet Cesar’s piercing stare any longer. Cesar released the hold he had taken upon Juan’s shirt, and Oscar ordered him to go start the car. Once Juan was out of the hospital, Oscar wrapped an arm around his little brother, pulling him close. Cesar, who was already crying again, leaned into Oscar’s chest, embracing his older brother properly.
“Come on, you gotta go home, take a shower, and get some rest. Imma stay back and talk with (Y/N)’s family. I know this might be hard, but try not to kill Juan on the way home.” Cesar gave his brother a look that said ‘no promises’. With a pat on the back, Oscar released Cesar and sent him home.
The car ride felt like an eternity and it was awfully silent. Cesar did appreciate that Juan had kept his mouth shut. Once home, Cesar made way for his room and locked the door. He let himself fall on his knees and yelled. He was sure the block could probably hear him, but he didn’t care. He kept yelling. He had gotten used to the feeling of tear-stained cheeks and wondered if his cheeks would ever be dry again, or if they’d always be damp with tears from this day on. He stood up and started knocking stuff over. He also threw some things against the walls, some crashed and others bounced. He yelled some more, and when he finally felt like his lungs were going to collapse, he threw himself onto his bed. He looked down at his hands. They were covered with dried blood—her dried blood. He thought about following the instructions Oscar gave him and showering, but once on his bed, he did not have the energy to get up again. He wanted his bed to swallow him whole, that way he wouldn’t have to deal with the hell life without her was going to be. Despite his wishes, he woke up the next morning and the one after that and the after that...
***
Although he kept in mind the promise he had made to (Y/N), Cesar couldn’t help but blame himself for what happened. He didn’t want to be reminded of the pain he felt he had caused her family if he were to look them in the eyes and see the state they were in. Therefore Cesar opted to keep his head bowed and stand at the back, refusing to speak and stand beside anyone. Oscar, on the other hand, stood near the family and next to Cesar’s friends.
“We missed you up there,” Mario, Ruby’s older brother, came up to him once the service was done. Cesar jumped a little at the sudden voice and accidentally made eye contact with Mario. Cesar winced after catching sight of Mario’s puffy eyes and went back to keeping his head lowered. “You aren’t to blame, you know?” Mario placed a hand on Cesar’s shoulder, but Cesar kept his eyes shut. “No one could have known that she would wander into the wrong side of—”
“It’s alright, compa,” Cesar interrupted, putting on a fake yet pained smile. “I’m fine, really. Don’t waste your comforting words on me. Save that for them,” Cesar pointed towards where her family was gathered, holding each other. He forced another smile before patting Mario’s shoulder and walking off to where Oscar and his friends stood.
“Hey, Cesar! We missed—”
“You missed me up there, yes, I know.” Cesar cut Jamal short, who had thrown himself around Cesar the moment he was within reach. Cesar returned the embrace but didn’t let it go on for too long, not wanting his resolve to crumble.
“So...” Monse spoke after a few beats of silence. Cesar raised his eyebrows signaling for her to keep going. “How you feeling?” Everyone turned to look at him, expecting for him to explode, but the explosion never came.
Cesar rolled his eyes before answering, “Look, I’m fine. I may not be okay, obviously, but I’m hanging in there.” They all let out held breaths. “You really don’t have to worry about me.” Oscar scoffed but covered it with a cough when Cesar glared at him. Of course, he was playing the crowd pleaser; Cesar needed them to think he was getting better and doing fine. Otherwise, they would treat him like he was made of glass and that was the last thing he wanted. He didn’t want anyone’s pity; he didn’t deserve it.
“Cesar, if you ever need anything, you know you got us, right?” Ruby reminded him.”
“Yeah, man, I know.” Cesar patted his shoulder and gave him a tight-lipped smile. Ruby took the opportunity to hug him, and like with Jamal, Cesar welcomed the embrace but cut it short when he felt the wall keeping his emotions in check faltering.
Oscar signaled for them to leave and he parted from his friends, thanking them for everything and letting them know he loved them before he turned around to catch up with his brother. He walked with his head down, staring at his feet. Suddenly, he was engulfed in a hug, a tender hand running through his hair. He placed his hands on the person’s back hesitantly, not knowing who they were. “I don’t want you to blame yourself, kid.” It was her mom. Cesar gasped slightly, and she held him tighter. “I know you’ve been avoiding us cause you feel guilty, but you are not to blame, Cesar.” She pulled back to look at him and grabbed his face tenderly, wiping away some stray tears. “The only people who are to blame here are the ones who pulled the trigger. Do you understand me? We don’t blame you and neither should you. You’re a good kid, Cesar. I’ll forever be thankful for how happy you made my daughter.” She was crying too, and even though he could feel his entire resolve crumbling, Cesar couldn’t find a way to get out of the woman’s embrace. “If you ever want to talk or just let all your pent up feelings out, the doors of my house will always be open to you.” She smiled at him, and he pulled her in for a proper hug.
“I’m sorry.” Cesar whispered.
“I know.” She kissed the side of his head, before releasing him to catch up with Oscar, who was waiting for him in the car.
***
Back home, Cesar sat on a corner of his bed, nursing a bottle of tequila he’d taken from Oscar’s liquor cabinet.
“How long did you think you could get away with stealing my tequila?” Oscar stood leaning on the doorway, looking down at Cesar with the slightest bit of sympathy.
“Apparently, longer than you’d think.” Cesar slightly slurred as he removed the blanket that covered his bed, revealing a collection of empty bottles. Disappointed, Oscar walked over to him and snatched the half-empty bottle Cesar was holding.
“This is not how you make your troubles go away, mano. Not permanently.” He walked out, shaking his head as he ignored Cesar’s protests.
Cesar stood up unsteadily, using the bed to steady himself. He stumbled, balancing himself as best as he could towards the door. He walked clumsily, leaving the solace of his room, to step out of the house. The cold, night breeze engulfed him suddenly, sobering him up just enough for him to walk normally to his destination. Though, he didn’t need to be sober to get there, already having the way memorized and having been intoxicated most of the times he had gone. He’d been visiting her grave every night since the day of the burial, and if he wasn’t drunk when he got there, he most definitely would be by the time he’d leave.
He crawled through the small gap in the fence that surrounded the place. He continued shuffling around, trying his best not to trip over flower arrangements and overgrown graves. He reached a familiar spot surrounded with a variety of arrangements consisting of flowers he recognized as her favorites. Cesar knelt on the dirt and stared at a small picture frame he had left, among the flower vases the first night he had visited her grave. (Y/N) stared back at him from behind the glass of the frame, and Cesar felt his heart swell up as it always did when he came by.
“It shouldn’t have been you,” he whispered, tears already falling. “This should not have happened in the first place.” He allowed himself to fall forward, hands grasping at the dirt and grass, searching for some sense of stability. “If I hadn’t bitched at you—If I hadn’t told you to leave—” Cesar was cut off by his own sobs, the sound eating up any word that would try to come up his throat. This was his routine: he’d kneel in front of her grave, stare at her picture, and cry. Each time he’d try to talk to her and say something which resembled an apology, but he’d break halfway through. Despite having what felt to him like the entire world telling him he wasn’t to blame, he still felt as if he deserved to be blamed.
“You were right, you know?” He shook his head, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked away from her picture. “It did take another death for me to realize how fucked up all of this is.”
He racked his brain for ways he could get rid of the guilt. He thought of things he could to make it better, to make it up to her—honor her memory. He kept searching for anything that could take away this feeling that was eating him alive from the inside.
Suddenly an idea clicked in his mind as if the convoluted puzzle rattling in his brain all fell in place at once. He knew what he needed to do to get rid of the burning sensation inside of him—of the overwhelming guilt that lingered over him. It was crazy, but it was simultaneously the only sensible thing he could think of. He knew this wasn’t what she had wanted, but it was the right thing to do. He got back on his feet, shaking off some of the dirt and grass that stuck to him, and made his way back home, eager to see the only person capable of making his idea happen.
He reached the house and barged through the door, alerting everyone of his arrival. Oscar was sitting on the couch patiently waiting for Cesar to get back, as he usually did when Cesar went out. He knew where his brother had gone and cursed himself for not being able to do more to ease the pain Cesar carried with him everyday. Cesar walked until he stood in front of Spooky, his tear-stained cheeks glistened in the living room light.
Cesar straightened his back to stand taller and wiped his face of any remaining dampness. He took a deep breath before voicing out his master plan for the first time since he thought of it. “Oscar,” The older brother stared at him expectantly, “I want out.”
Oscar laughed, fully believing his little brother had lost his mind. “What?” he asked, wiping tears that had begun to form, a result of his seemingly never ending fits of laughter.
“I said I want out. I don’t want to be a Santo anymore.”
“Do you even know the implications of what you’re saying, Cesar?” Oscar pointed at him, his demeanor changing entirely in a matter of seconds. “You’re drunk, and you don’t know what you’re saying. Go to your room before I lose my temper with you,” Spooky threatened.
“Listen, I don’t want to make a fight out of this. I’m tired of that shit—of fighting with everyone. I’m done.” Spooky saw the way Cesar’s shoulder slumped as he started to allow the walls around him to collapse, and he couldn’t help but allow the boy a chance to explain himself. “I’ve given it much thought, and I know this is what I want, consequences and all.” Spooky stiffened but didn’t interrupt. “I can’t keep doing this, mano, and I know this puts you in a tough position, but I just can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what exactly, Cesar?” His voice was grave. He was trying to keep his emotions at bay, knowing that lashing out at Cesar would do nothing to change his mind.
“Being a Santo. It feels me with guilt, knowing that my lifestyle is what killed her—”
“Cesar for the last time it wasn’t—”
“BUT IT WAS. It was my fault, Oscar, and that’s something none of you have been able to get. I might not have thrown her in front of that gun, but it might as well have been me who pulled the fucking trigger. Because it was my mistakes that fueled those Prophets' anger to the point where they took it out on her. So yes, it was my fault, because I was the reason they pulled that trigger. I always thought that my status with the Santos would keep her safe or at least protected. I never thought I’d be her fucking death sentence.” Cesar slumped beside Oscar and allowed some body-rocking sobs to escape.
“This isn’t what she would have wanted.”
Cesar genuinely laughed at his statement. “You’re damn right it’s not. But it’s not like she’s here to tell me that.”
“You’re basically asking me to kill you, Cesar.” He looked at his brother, hoping to find some sort of hesitation but was only met with determination.
“I’m sorry, but my mind’s made up.” Oscar knew Cesar meant what he said, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the pain he was feeling. His little brother, that he raised almost all on his own, was beside him asking him to pretty much put him down, and he couldn’t decline his request.
“You sure you want to go through with this, mano?” Please say no, he begged.
“Cien porciento.” Cesar assured.
***
Morning arrived, and Cesar woke up early to run some last few errands. Meanwhile, Oscar met up with the rest of the Santos to officialize and discuss Cesar’s decision and request.
Cesar’s first stop was the (Y/L/N)’s residence. He stopped by to drop off a bouquet of flowers he bought for (Y/N)’s mom and say a quick hello. She didn’t fail to mention how Cesar looked more alive and said how glad she was that he was starting to get better. Cesar shrugged off the comment with an awkward chuckle and some words of gratitude. In less than an hour, he bid the woman good-bye and made sure to give the same kind of bone crushing hug she gave him back at the funeral. “It’s been a pleasure knowing you, Cesar Diaz.” Her eyes were brimmed with tears.
Cesar swallowed harshly and went to kiss her cheek after slightly releasing her from his grip, “Thank you for everything, Mrs. (Y/L/N).”
She reluctantly allowed him to leave, and Cesar made his way to his second location of the day: Ruby’s house. He knew all of his friends were gathering there today since they had invited him, in case he felt up for the human interaction. He didn’t get to knock twice before the door swung open and was being suffocated by Jasmine.
“Ican’tbreathe,” He struggled to say.
“Oh, sorry.” She quickly released him and allowed him to make his way inside.
Cesar spent the evening with them, and he actually felt like a version of his old self. They joked around, laughed, and had an overall fun evening. But as all good things do, it came to an end. Cesar was the first to leave, and he affectionately said good-bye to the friends who had grown up by his side. None of them thought anything of his display of affection; they actually felt glad as they assumed Cesar was starting to let go of the ‘tough-boy act’. Cesar felt the familiar feeling of guilt course through him as he started thinking of what he was about to put his friends through, but he hoped and prayed that they could grow to understand and respect his decision.
It was already night when he arrived at the residence and he mentally prepared himself for what waited for him inside. Oscar and the men were gathered in the backyard. They allowed him to step into the middle of their make-shift circle, and Oscar moved to face him.
“You still have time to say this is all a berrinche and call it off.” Oscar flicked the cigarette he was smoking onto the ground. He gave Cesar the opportunity to answer, but when he remained quiet Oscar nodded his head. “All right, have it your way, then.” He turned to address the gang. “Ya lo oyeron, he wants out. Ya saben que hacer.” He said the last part reluctantly and walked away from the group. Normally, he would be the one to throw the first punch and actively participate but not this time. He took a seat facing the circle. Through their feet, he could see how they were kicking and punching Cesar, yet as much as it pained him, it was his duty to make sure they did their job right. He could hear Cesar moan and yell in pain, and Oscar had to resist the urge to stop them. This is what he wanted.
Cesar could see his brother gripping his chair, knuckles white from the tightness of his hold on the armrest. He’d see Spooky momentarily look away every few minutes, an attempt to keep the tears that were threatening to spill from coming out. Cesar turned his sight elsewhere, not wanting the distraught sight of his brother to be the last thing he saw. He started coughing blood and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it was all over. After a few more kicks and punches, Cesar’s strength was almost all gone. With the bit of residing strength he had left, he turned his head to look at the sky and softly whispered, “Allá te veo.”
Because someone might as well!? And look at this. Look. At. This.
Does this look right to you??
These are just the last three fics I wrote. I appreciate the likes, believe me I do, but you have to understand. Likes do nothing for content creators. It’s the reblogs. Because that’s how you find shit on your dashboard. Through reblogs. Not likes. This isn’t twitter or tiktok or instagram. This is a website that’s run by the reblog system.
Reblogging helps content creators put their stuff out there. Why do you think so many people stopped writing fanfic and creating beautiful fanart and edits? It’s because they put in hours of work and don’t get nearly enough notes for their masterpieces. Yes we do this because we enjoy it but like...some validation won’t hurt. A boost of confidence here and there might be all someone needs to finish whatever thing they started and left.
Summary: Cesar and the reader get in a bad fight which reaps consequences neither of them could have seen coming.
Word count: 2.1k
Pairing: Cesar Diaz x Reader
Warnings: Shouting, fighting, mentions of guns, and cursing. Also hella angst and sadness but what’s new. (If we missed something that should be tagged/warned for please let us now and we'll include it.)
A/N: Hey, long time no see :) Sorry for missing a month (Almost two but shhh) Hopefully this being a two parter kinda makes up for it. We hope you all enjoy this and have a great morning/afternoon/night! -W&C :)
As always major thanks to @apotatoinabigfield for making this readable. We wouldn’t have the dignity to post without you. <3
“Cesar Diaz, where do you think you’re going? We’re not done here.” (Y/N) sneered at the boy who had turned his back, aiming to leave while she was still speaking.
“Oh, I’m pretty sure we are.” Cesar seethed, his voice laced with poison. He abruptly turned around and walked over to (Y/N). Panic coursed through her veins as his words settled in. He kept stepping closer as she analyzed what he had said. His words, the emphasis on one in specific, kept repeating over and over in her mind. He didn’t mean—he couldn’t mean… He wouldn’t. Not after everything. Despite her mind being in a frenzy, (Y/N) stood her ground and refused to step back when he came to be face to face with her. His uneven breathing was fanning over her face, his nostrils flaring and chest puffing with each rageful inhale and exhale.
(Y/N) didn’t know when this had become normal for them. She didn’t know when she had gotten used to this—this horrible routine. She would sometimes wish she knew, craving the knowledge of when spending the night went from being kept up all night to sleeping at different ends of the bed; when kissing turned into shouting; when cuddling turned into shoving each other away and shutting the other out; when words of praise turned into tearing each other down during arguments; or when pet names turned into name calling. Despite her wishes of knowing, deep down, she knew better. She was actually relieved to not know, because having the knowledge of when their relationship started to crumble and fall apart would probably be her undoing.
“So, why don’t you hop off my dick and go home?” Cesar’s spiteful words brought (Y/N) back into reality. She looked him dead in the eye and assessed the situation. She could back off and leave like he asked just to do this all over again the next time they would see each other. It was like they were stuck in a vicious cycle, and she was eager to break it. Desperation serving as the fuel and pure adrenaline as the ignition, she made up her mind and decided to try to break out of it.
“No.”
“No?” The look Cesar gave her made her want to cower away, but she knew she had to be stronger than that. She knew that she couldn’t let him break down her defense that easily. Regardless, she knew that if looks could kill she would have been buried in the backyard in seconds.
“You heard me. I’m not going anywhere until you finally understand that you can’t keep putting your life on the line like this.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s it gonna take for you to get it through your thick skull, huh? Another death? Or would that still not be enough for you to realize that you can’t keep doing this shit?” (Y/N) spewed at him.
“This again? I already told you before, (Y/N). It is what it is.” Cesar gritted through his teeth.
“Oh, yeah, and what is that, Cesar?”
“This is my family, (Y/N); nothing you tell me can change that. No matter how much you bitch and moan you can’t change that. I was born a Santo, and I’m gonna die a Santo.” Cesar was getting all up on her face, the argument making him more and more agitated. “Now if you can’t handle that, then there’s the door,” he said and pointed towards the door “I trust you know how to use it.”
She scoffed. “So, that’s it then? You’re not even gonna pretend to think about it—pretend you actually give a damn about me—about us?” Cesar didn’t answer, and he refused to look at her, walking past her and crashing his shoulder into hers in the process. (Y/N) chuckled dryly. “Just gonna ask me to leave so you can keep playing ‘bichote’ in Oscar’s shadow?” He still refused to meet her gaze, but she could tell she hit a nerve by the way his shoulders tensed.
“Is that honestly what you want? Look at me; tell me that’s what you truly want. If you can do that, I’ll go and won’t bother you again.” She had reached her breaking point. She desperately wanted to stay, but she needed him to want her to stay more. Cesar’s hard stare finally met her own. Her eyes stared back at him in a pleading manner, all traces of anger now unrecognizable due to the sadness that had overcome them. Without a word he raised a brow and motioned to the door with his head. He had never asked her to leave like this before. Usually, she’d be the one to walk out on her own, telling him to call her when he was in the mood to talk. On some rare occasions though, he would tell her to go home, signaling their conversation was over, and would have someone drive her home. Cesar never did call though; most times he would show up on her bedroom window like a stray cat begging to be let in just so he could find some warmth. In the end, that’s what he always craved from her: her warmth. Though, it wasn’t in an intimate way, contrary to what the rest of the crew thought. He craved the love she offered, the simple serenity he felt around her, and the way her skin would always be warm, even in the coldest of nights. The feeling of her beside him would be enough to keep him heated even without blankets, but like everything else, he had found a way to jeopardize that, and their bedrooms had transformed from what felt like a safe haven to a battlefield.
“Cesar, if i—if I walk out that door, I am not coming back. I won’t expect you to nor want you to call. The moment I walk out that door we’re done.” It was her last attempt at making him choose her, yet it turned out to be futile. Her breaths were shaky, and all the anger she had felt towards the boy, who remained firm in front of her, had now subsided and transformed into hurt and dread.
“Good,” was all he said as he turned around once more, not even sparing her a full glance. He crouched in front of his drawers, finding the contents of which more interesting than their conversation.
“I hope you’re happy, Lil’ Spooky.” With glossy eyes, (Y/N) took a deep breath and turned on her heel to leave. She knew that she should’ve fought to stay, or at least showed him she didn’t want to leave nor lose him; but she didn’t have any remaining strength. All her energy had been put into the argument they had just had. The reason behind their fights was always misinterpreted by Cesar. He always assumed that she just wanted to change him—that she would rather be with someone who didn’t have a street name, but that wasn’t the case. The reason why she “bitched” at him was because she was scared to lose him. She wanted him to be safe instead of reckless, but not once did she ask him to be someone he was not. (Y/N) knew the kind of guy Cesar was way before they ever considered being in a relationship, the reality of his familial duties weighing on him from a very young age, no matter how much he tried to ignore them. She also knew the dangers that would come with being in a relationship with him, but in her heart she knew that the love she felt for him outweighed all the cons that could come from dating Cesar Diaz. But even that wasn’t enough to make her pretend the tasks they gave him didn’t bother her anymore.
She was well aware this was all he had ever known. The dream of ever escaping this was nothing but just that—a dream. She knew this was the only family he could claim, but that didn’t make it right. It didn’t excuse half the shit they made him go through just to prove himself. To say she was scared for him was an understatement. She had been terrified for his safety from the beginning, yet she had tried her best to hide her feelings for Cesar’s sake. But she couldn’t do that anymore, ‘cause now it was his life on the line; sadly he was too stubborn to realize that.
(Y/N)’s feet carried her mindlessly as memories started to consume her mind. Their first arguments had been tame. (Y/N) had suggested that Cesar asked for some safer tasks, but Cesar’s response to her suggestion was to get defensive and storm onto his bed. Tears were beginning to pool out of her eyes as she kept walking, but she was too tired to try to stop them or wipe them. She didn’t care if she received weird looks; all she cared about in that moment was getting to her house, just so she could plop down on her bed and cry her way into the next day. Her goal had been to space out the arguments as much as possible, in hopes of one day catching him in a good enough mood that her words would finally get through to him, and he’d understand that she was only trying to look out for him. Yet lately things had been so tense that it felt like they were arguing everyday. Though this had been their third argument in this week alone, she could’ve never guessed it would end like this.
Not all days were bad, though. There had been days in between in which they’d laugh, days in which they’d have fun together and go on dates, and days in which they’d candescently and fervently love each other as profoundly as they could. (Y/N) smiled lightly to herself. Relishing those rays of sunlight that would every now and then peak through the rain clouds that often hovered over them.
The sound of a car horn pulled (Y/N) out of her thoughts. “It’s a little late for a pretty, young thing like yourself to be out and about, ain’t it, mamas?” (Y/N) froze. Keeping her head down, so that her hair covered her face, she tried her best to scan her surroundings. Any snarky remark that she could have shot at the unknown man turned into an unsettling lump in her throat the moment she realized where she was. Since she had been mindlessly and carelessly wandering around in hopes of her feet dragging her home, she had accidentally stumbled into Prophet territory with zero protection nor back up. “Hey, I’m pretty sure I asked you something.” The distinct noise of a gun being cocked caused her head to snap up in fear. She found herself coming face to face with the barrel of a gun. The man in the passenger’s seat had it aimed directly at her, meanwhile the driver kept hollering.
(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, in what would have been a likely futile attempt of getting herself out of this situation, but the man with the gun beat her to it. “Holy shit, you’re Lil’ Spooky’s girl! From what I hear you’re quite the feisty hyna.” He chuckled darkly. “You’re lucky that’s exactly how I like them.” His last comment sent shivers down (Y/N)’s spine. She was in deep shit with no foreseeable way out. The only thing she had left was to pray for a miracle.
“I’m not interested,” she muttered, sounding less confident than she had hoped.
“Oh, I wasn’t asking, mamas. You see, you have two options here. Either you get in the back of this car without a fight and let us show you what it’s like to be with a real man, or I shoot you, right here, right now. Whatever you choose, that punkass kid is going to learn a very important lesson tonight.” The Prophet smiled deviously as he straightened his aim locking his elbows to ensure a deadly shot. “If I were you, I’d go with the first option, since I think it’s the most beneficial for all, no?”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she spat at the men who were definitely too old to be trying to sway her into bed with them. She kept silently praying someone would come to her rescue, but her gut told her it wasn’t going to happen.
The man at the wheel chuckled dryly. “You sure, mami, we won’t ask again.”
