The bass was thumping so loud you could feel it in your ribs, lights flashing red and blue across the crowded living room. You were leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from a red cup, just trying to vibe—until he showed up.

Some frat guy you didn’t know, smelling like cheap cologne and desperation, stumbled up with a crooked smile. He’d been eyeing you since you walked in, clearly not getting the hint. “Damn, girl… You always look this good, or is it just for me tonight?” he slurred, eyes flicking down your body like he had a right.

You didn’t bother hiding the disgust in your voice. “Back off.”

He didn’t. His hand grabbed your wrist, too tight to play off as friendly.

“I said no.” Your tone was sharp, unwavering, but the guy didn’t let go. “The fuck is your problem?”

And then— “Yo.” Fezco’s voice cut through the music like a blade. Calm. Lethal. You didn’t even see him walk up, but now he was standing between you and the frat boy, face cold, jaw clenched, hands loose at his sides—but ready.

“She said back off,” Fez said, eyes locked on the guy with that slow, dangerous stare that promised he wasn’t gonna ask twice.

The frat boy laughed nervously, tried to play it cool. “Chill, man. We were just talking—”

Fez took one slow step forward. “Nah, see… You put your hands on my girl. Now you gon’ apologize and get the fuck outta her face before you find out what happens when you don’t.”

You could feel it—everyone around you starting to quiet, the shift in the air.

This wasn’t just a warning. This was Fezco.

And he never bluffed.

The guy blinked, hand finally dropping from your wrist like it burned him. He scoffed under his breath, trying to save face, but Fez didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Just stared him down with that low, dangerous calm that said he’d already decided how this would end.

“Whatever, bro. She ain’t even that hot,” the frat boy muttered, trying to turn it around as he backed up.

You barely reacted, but Fezco did.

Before the guy could get another step away, Fez grabbed the front of his hoodie and slammed him back against the fridge so hard it rattled.

“You think you can touch her and run your mouth like that? You lucky I ain’t in the mood to fuck up this party,” he growled low, voice like gravel soaked in gasoline. “But you say some shit like that again? You won’t be able to talk.”

The guy’s eyes were wide now—sober in an instant.

Fez let go, letting him stumble back like the trash he was, and the guy disappeared fast into the crowd, not even looking back.

Silence hung for a second before the music started filling in the space again. Some people glanced your way but quickly looked away when Fez turned.

He stepped in close, fingers brushing your wrist so gently it was like the opposite of what just happened. His eyes softened when they met yours.

“You okay, baby?” His voice was quieter now. Just for you.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, more pissed than shaken. “He’s lucky you got to him first.”

Fez gave a little smile, small and crooked. “Yeah? You woulda roasted his ass?”

You grinned. “You know I would’ve.”

He chuckled under his breath, eyes sweeping over you again, making sure you were really good. Then he leaned in close, warm breath at your ear.

“Ain’t nobody touches you like that. Ever. I got you, always.”

And he did.

You reached out and laced your fingers through his. Party still roaring behind you. But right then, it felt like just the two of you.