Fictober Day 1
~Pairings: Fezco xfem!reader
Content Warnings: G*ns and g*n v*olence, mentions of bl*od, yelling, mentions of d*ugs.
Word Count: 1097 words
Author’s Note: This is a shorter fic, I wanted to add more but wasn’t 100% sure how to continue it to make it better without making it painfully long or messing it up. So, I leave you with this, wrapping up prompt one of Fictober!~
The night was slowly coming to an end. Halloween really ended around 9 for anyone besides teenagers and young adults chasing the night. Y/n loved Halloween, and seeing all the little kids in their cute costumes, running around in the night for a sweet tooth fix. Fez and Ashtray ran their own business a few blocks over, near a local party. Not wanting to be around the teen and adult Halloween scene, she stayed home to pass out candy. She dressed up as Rapunzel, not wanting to scare little kids. In between rushes of trick-or-treaters, she sits in the living room, watching a classic list of Halloween movies, switching between horror flicks and classic, fun and cute movies, like It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.
The current movie, however, is Little Shop Of Horrors. Not much of a Halloween film specifically, but a horror movie, so it made her list. The doorbell rings, and she heads to the door, wondering what kind of costumes this group of kids or kid would be wearing. Happily, she flings open the door, not expecting the surprise that greets her. A taller man, dressed in black, with a scar across his face, holds a gun pointed right at her face. She lets out an involuntary gasp, then tries not to move or make any other sounds.
“Trick or treat, motherfucker!” The man shouts, looking at her. He looks almost confused as he looks around her, into the house. “Who the fuck are you” You know what, that don’t matter, get the fuck in the house!” He swings the gun around like a professor would a laser pointer, not giving a damn what the consequences may be if there would be a slip-up and the trigger would be pulled. Knowing this man could be dangerous and potentially deadly, she listens, setting the candy bowl she had grabbed down on the table next to the door.
The man points the gun to the couch, then waves it back to her, signaling for her to sit. Y/n sits, wanting nothing more than for the night to be over already, and wishing that she had just decided not to pass out any more candy. The man shuts the house door and looks at her. “Where the fuck is Fez?” She shrugs, knowing the truth, but not wanting to say, and knowing that playing dumb would be her best bet of getting out of the situation without any harm. Her shrug is unsatisfactory to the mysterious man, who glares and holds the gun up, as if to pistol whip her. “Do you know when he’ll be back then?”
“He said around 2,” She says quietly, scared that the answer would scare the man. He shakes his head, planning his next move. Looking outside of the door, she sees a group of trick or treaters going towards the pathway to the door. “There’s kids coming up to the house.”
“Turn off your porch light then,” He says. Nodding in cooperation, y/n stands and walks over to the door, flicking one of the three switches along the wall, the one that turns the porch light off. She hears the groans of the kids as the parents shout from the street that no light means no candy. Y/n’s heart breaks at the sound of the kids being unsatisfied, but returns back to the couch. The man grabs her phone from the coffee table and hands it to her. “Unlock it, pull up Fez’s fucking contact, I ain’t got all day to sit here and wait for his ass to get home.”
Y/n cooperates, wanting no trouble. She hits the call button under the contact, and with a chime, it connects and starts to ring. She puts it on speaker, and within two rings, Fez answers. “Baby?” He asks on the other line. “What’s going on?”
The man takes the phone. “Don’t baby me you piece of shit. You better get your ass back here with my money before I blast this bitches head all over your granny ass looking house.” The man doesn’t let Fez get another word in before hanging up and tossing Y/n’s phone to the couch. He sits down in a chair next to the couch and looks at the TV, keeping his gun pointed at Y/n, which keeps her on the couch, not wanting to provoke him in any way.
It takes minutes for Fez to come home. Ashtray, who was with him at the party, is nowhere to be seen. Upon entering the house, Fez pulls a wad of cash from his pockets, handing it to the guy. “Look, I don’t want any problems, man.”
The man counts the cash, putting his gun in his waistband. Fez watches him count it, standing close to the couch, and between Y/n and the man. “It’s missing $50,” the man points out. “Where the fuck is the rest of my money bitch?”
The shout makes Y/n jump, and takes her to a different place. Suddenly, she’s back in
her childhood home, watching from around the corner of the hallway into the kitchen as her dad sits at the dining table with two strange men, a selection of prescription bottles and bags of powder scattering where they had eaten TV dinners less than 4 hours before. The man at the table watches her dad pull a stack of bills from his pocket, handing it to the guy. She doesn’t hear what’s exchanged between her dad and the man, until the man starts yelling, claiming that there was money missing. Scared, she stands in the hallway, watching and frozen in fear. Her dad scrambles to try and get whatever money is missing. With his back turned to the man and the table, spinning the lock to the safe that sat in the dining room, the man takes out a gun, pointing it to Y/n’s father’s back, and pulling the trigger.
Y/n is snapped out of her memory with a touch and the sound of Fez and someone else, screaming in pain. Fezco kneels in front of her, cupping her face with one hand, holding one of her hands with the other, and saying her name, concern coating his normally casual and chill voice. She looks up at him, and sees splatters of red on his face. Looking around, she sees even more blood splatters, the man on the floor screaming and holding his face, and Ashtray, standing above the man’s body, a bloody meat tenderizer in his hands.
