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dollybarnes · 2 years

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“God forbid, only one of us gets to walk out of here, it ain’t gonna be me. Hear?”

In this canon, Ash walked outta that house when he was told. And it wasn’t Fez who told him to leave.

‘Till The End — Fezco

‘Till The End (Oneshot)

Pairing — Fezco x Reader, Ashtray x Reader (platonic)

Content Warnings — Canon-typical violence, strong language, murder.

Word Count — 2.5k

It was seven pm. You were flitting around the kitchen, your mind happily silent as you laid all of your focus on the task at hand. You stirred the boiling pasta and gave the sauce a quick taste before deciding to add just a few pinches of salt.

Your music was playing quietly from the old stereo in the corner of the room, the Amy Winehouse album you couldn’t help but love so much. You could barely hear it over the much-louder music coming from behind Ash’s bedroom door, but your muffled melodies were pleasant nonetheless.

You tried not to pay attention to the way your hand trembled when you reached up to take two bowls out of the cabinet. You swallowed thickly, repressing the panic threatening to arise. Just for a moment, you turned your head over your shoulder, fixed your eyes on the front-door, and let your heart burn with futile desire.

Then you put the bowls down and got back to work.

You strained the pasta when the timer announced that it was ready and then stirred in the tomato and meat sauce. You grated some parmesan over your serving and placed a piece of garlic toast on the side of Ash’s.

You placed them down on the small, round dining table, along with two sets of cutlery, and then used your walkie-talkie to inform Ash that the food was ready.

He walked to the kitchen and paused in the doorway. You looked at him over your shoulder from the sink. He stared at you for a long stretch of time without blinking.

You knew exactly what he was thinking.

“Sit down and eat,” you commanded gently. “It’ll get cold.”

He nodded and sat down. You turned off the faucet, dried off your hands on a hand towel, and then joined him.

Ashtray’s shoulders didn’t relax and your hands didn’t stop trembling, but he cleaned his bowl in minutes and you couldn’t help the weak smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

“Good?”

“Yeah.” He looked at your all-but full bowl. “You know, Fez’ll go fuckin’ crazy, he finds out you didn’t eat.”

You squinted across the table. “And how would he find out? You gonna be a little snitch?”

Ash sat back and shook his head. “You crazy.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed your chair back from the table. “Aight, I wash, you dry.”

“Bet.” Ash muttered, and with that, the two of you got to work.

The pots and pans took longer than the crockery, but you liked to take care of your beloved le creuset items. Ash also knew how anal you were about your cooking pots, so he took his time wiping them down and putting them back in the right places.

He was a good kid.

“You carryin’ that glock Fez gave you?”

He was also an O’Neill; not by blood, but blood had fuck all to do with being an O’Neill.

You patted your hip. Beneath your hoodie, tucked into the waist of your high-waisted leggings, the small glock was resting.

Fully loaded.

“Aight, good.” He nodded, that intense stare of his moving from one end of the kitchen to the front-door. “Shit goes down, I gotchu, but imma need you to have my back if Fez shows.”

Jesus. This kid.

Maybe it was because you were the only mother figure he’d ever really known after Marie’s accident, or maybe it was because he’d grown up watching Fez always put your life ahead of his, but Ash had always found it hard to comprehend the fact that you were fully capable of taking care of yourself.

Fuck that.

“Listen to me, boy. You need to remember that I’ve been in this game since you were in fucking diapers.” You said. His jaw clenched and he averted his gaze. You shook your head and caught his eyes again. “I don’t give a fuck what you think I am or am not capable of. Shit goes down and, God forbid, only one of us gets to walk out of here, it ain’t gonna be me. Hear?”

He stayed silent, staring at you with those beady eyes, and you refused to look away until he stepped back and nodded once, expression stony.

“Good.” You said. “Now, you want ice-cream or hot cocoa for dessert? I bought marshmallows and cream, but they could go with either.”

He looked at you, and you chose to ignore the fiery defiance in his eyes. “Both.”

You stared at him.

Any other day, you would’ve swatted him over the head for even suggesting such gluttony, but tonight..?

Fuck it.

Five minutes later, you settled on the couch with a bowl of ice cream, a mug of hot chocolate, and switched on the TV. Ash sat on the couch opposite, mimicked your position, and set to work destroying his rare desert platter.

You took small bites from your bowl and remained hypervigilant as Ash finally let a small amount of tension go as he watched the cartoon playing on the network.

When you were both fully-satisfied and a little sugar-sick, you collected up your dishes and took them to the sink.

Ash followed and sat at the table whilst you filled the sink with soapy water.

You pressed your lips together. Ash had more independence at twelve than any other kid you’d ever known, and that was how he liked it and how he thrived, but during times like this, he liked to stay close.

You liked him close.

Fezco was the love of your life, no doubt. He’d been yours since you were thirteen and he was fourteen and you’d been his for just as long.

But Ash? Ash was the only person in the world you’d lay down your life for.

Fez knew that.

And in some capacity, Ash knew it too.

And thanks to Nate motherfucking Jacobs, yesterday had reminded you of the very real possibility of that outcome.

Fez was in danger, you were in danger, and by association, Ash was in danger. The thought made you nauseous, but you weren’t the type to sit back and ignore the truth.

The raid had royally fucked things up, and now Fez was risking everything by breaking into the doc’s house and you and Ash were sitting ducks, waiting on baited breath for Mouse to show his face.

You glanced at Ash over your shoulder before abandoning the sink and walking over to the cereal cupboard. You pulled out the Lucky Charms box and set it down in-front of the microwave.

Then, you walked over to the couch, dug your hand into the crease between the pillows, and pulled the handle of the butcher's knife to the surface. Invisible but easily grabbable.

You could feel Ash’s eyes burning into your back as you fluffed the cushions.

You stepped back, stood in the middle of the living room, and inhaled a deep, steadying breath. You held it. One, two, three, four, five. And then you released it.

“I need a fucking cigarette.” You whispered to the room. Then you took one last look at the couch, then at the front-door, and walked back to the sink without looking at Ash once.

You wouldn’t let him see your panic. You were the only one who needed to be nervous.

He was as safe with you at that moment as he was at any other time. Nothing would touch the kid. Nothing and nobody; not over your dead fucking body.

You finished the dishes and finally turned to face him. He was staring at the table, shoulders tense and jaw tight.

“Ash, you need—“

You were interrupted by the shrill beep of the motion sensor alarm.

Ash immediately got up and jogged to the camera screens. You muttered a quiet, “fuck,” beneath your breath as you chased after him.

You stood side-by-side and stared at Mouse and his lackey, Custer.

“Aight.” You muttered. “We got a plan and we’re gonna stick to it. We buzz them in, you disappear, I play the part of the ditsy housewife, and we wait for Fez. You copy?”

“Copy.” He said. “I’ll tell him they here.”

“Right.” You clicked the button to activate the telecom. “I’ll be right there.” You speak, your voice higher and far lighter than usual. You close your eyes, release the button, and look at Ash. “Love you, kid.” You say, and know better than to expect anything in response. “Now disappear. I got this.”

You looked at the front door and by the time you looked back at where he’d been standing, he was gone.

You took several deep breaths as you approached the front door, and when your hand reached for the handle, you closed your eyes and said a short prayer.

You opened the door and let them in, jaw twitching with a frustrated kind of fear when both men made themselves comfortable in your home like they had any right to be there.

“Your man ain’t here.” Mouse looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Interesting.”

“He’ll be home soon.” You attempted a smile but couldn’t find the will to hold it on your lips. “Would you like a drink?”

He pointedly ignored your question as he strolled around the couch. “I’ve been hearing some interesting things about you.”

You blinked at him. “Me?”

“You.” He confirmed. He leaned against the back of the couch and smirked. “But I don’t know if I believe any of it. You’re just too pretty to be any of the things they've been saying you are.”

He was openly leering at you.

You swallowed down a disgusted shudder and kept your face blank. “I don’t like rumours. I doubt they’re true.”

“Now, that’s what I thought.” He slapped his knee and pushed away from the couch, taking a step toward you.

You resisted the urge to take a step back. Your heart sped up. Your survival urges started screaming at you to move, to run, to do anything other than just fucking stand there.

You ignored them.

He left mere inches between you when he stopped. “But I’ve got my suspicions.”

Your eyes flitted down and landed on the silver pistol on his belt. You knew it was a mistake as soon as you looked back up and his eyes had darkened.

Shit.

Fuck.

“Suspicions?” You forced the query out of your mouth with maximum effort.

Mouse circled you. “See, there’s only so many rumours I can bear to hear about the same person before those rumours start sounding like truths.”

You fixed your eyes on the wall. “I been with Fezco since the beginning. You know that. Makes sense that I’d know some shit, doesn’t it?”

Maybe that was the wrong angle to go, because Mouse was immediately angered by your snappish tone.

You closed your eyes when he came back to stand in-front of you and his hand came to rest on your cheek, right, and then moved down to your jaw, tighter, and then, when you were a second away from taking out your gun; afraid that he was planning on going for your neck next, the front door opened.

“Let go of my fuckin’ girl, Mouse.”

Mouse released you.

You stumbled backward, flung your head toward Fez, who looked at you, and finally let yourself breathe.

He was okay.

He was alive. He was standing. He had a bag of cash in his hand.

Thank fuck.

He looked at you with the same blank stare he always settled you with around unlikable company. “Get into the bedroom, baby. I’ll be there soon.”

Like the dutiful girl you played the act of wherever Mouse was concerned, you nodded and then simply disappeared around the corner.

As soon as you were out of their line of sight, you put your fist in your mouth and clenched your eyes shut.

Adrenaline was shooting through your veins and it wasn’t the good kind. It was the nasty kind that made you want to rip your skin off and burn it.

You were close enough to hear, close enough to step in as soon as shit went sideways.

You were not weak.

But you had to let Fez do his thing, and if his thing didn’t work, you were ready to take care of things your way.

“You’re late.”

“I got caught up dealing with some bullshit.”

“I heard you got raided.”

You watched the scene play out through the cleverly placed mirror that let you see them but kept you out of their sights. It was dark, but the glow from the TV was all you needed.

Your hand moved to rest on your glock.

“They ain’t find nothin’, though.” Fez replied, pulling the cash from the bag. He tossed it over to Custer. “Ain’t got shit on me.”

A floorboard creaked to your left. You spun your head but met an empty darkness.

“I was hopin’ not.”

You went still.

Mouse tapped his gun with his index finger, drawing Fez’s attention directly to it.

Custer started flicking through the bills.

Bile rose in your throat.

Custer stopped, stared at a pile of bills, and then looked at Mouse.

Your hand closed around the handle.

Mouse looked at Fez.

Fez looked at Mouse. “So, we all good?”

What happened next, happened so quickly that you could barely comprehend it.

Ashtray came out of nowhere, hammer in hand. In the blink of an eye, Mouse was on the floor and Custer was keeled over, screaming in agony.

You lurched out of your hiding place and fell into the room, mouth agape as you inhaled a shuddered breath.

“Oh, fuck.” You whispered.

Ashtray dropped the hammer on the floor and looked at you.

You looked at him.

“Ain’t gon’ let you die.” He said. His tone left no room for dispute.

Custer continued to screech.

You were shaking.

Fezco looked between you both.

“Fuck.” He muttered.

You looked at him. “Fez..”

“Fuck!” He repeated, louder that time.

Clean-up took until midnight. Fezco took care of Mouse’s body and didn’t let you or Ash have anything to do with that. Custer was sent away after Fez managed to crack some sort of a deal with him.

You didn’t go to bed that night.

After cleaning the blood out of the carpet, you collapsed onto the couch and stared silently into space.

Fez joined you soonest. Ash came not long after.

You fell asleep beneath the crocheted blanket that was so sacred in your house; the one that was a key factor in so many memories.

You settled in Fez’s arms, and his voice was the last thing you heard before falling asleep.

“Love you till the end, ma.”

You didn’t sleep soundly, but when you woke up, both of your boys were with you, and they were alive, and they were healthy, and they were safe, and you couldn’t ask for much more than that.

#euphoria #euphoria imagine #euphoria oneshot #fezco #fezco euphoria #fezco imagine #fezco smut #fezco x ofc #fezco x reader #fezcoedit

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