Freaky Fred x Reader (Ongoing)

Locked In

"Gah' dammit. Gah' damn door, gah' damn (Y/n)," you hear Eustace growl under his breath. "Gotta go to the store, get some tools..." His voice only grew more muffled as he stomped away. "You two stay put! I'll be back..." 

A couple of seconds later you can make out the slam of the front door, followed by the spurt of Eustace's old pickup truck starting. And just like that, he's gone, and you're left in silence.

You bring your head back up, stepping away from the door. 

Your heart skips a beat once you remember-

You aren't alone.

You slowly turn around to find Fred sitting casually atop a closed toilet seat, your timid (e/c) eyes eventually meeting his serene emerald ones. You can't help but trail your gaze downwards, halting your stare once you reach his dazzling grin. 

That smile. Why was he still smiling? Why wouldn't he stop? Does he know we're locked in here?

You clear your throat.

"Uh... I'm sure it's fine," your voice is shaky, and you feel your heart begin to gain speed.

"Control it, (Y/n)!"

"Eustace should'nt be too long... He, uhm, just has to go get some..." You trail off as he stands up. You don't dare to take your eyes off of his- trying desperately to get a read on what he's thinking. Yet his expression doesn't faulter, and his gaze remains locked onto yours.

Finally, he begins to step toward you.

He only needs to take a few elegant strides until he is looming more than a foot above you, his chest mere centimeters away from yours. You press your back against the door in an attempt to widen the narrow slip of space that is left between you, your breath catching in your throat with each rapid inhale. 

You notice he has one arm behind his back, with the other resting at his side. You can't help but worry what he may be hiding from you. His breaths are calm and composed- a polar opposite to your own- his chest rising and falling with ease.

The room fills with a tension so thick you could slice through it with a good pair of scissors. The air around you begins to feel thin, and the walls on either side of you start to close in. Tighter. Tighter. Until there is nowhere left to go. Nowhere left to run.

It's just you and him.

Slowly, he reaches his free hand down- his body matching its movements, his face now directly across from yours- and takes some of your long, wavy hair between his index and pointer fingers. He wraps it around one of them, twirling it then letting it fall. Playing with it. He repeats this a few more times with different strands of hair, not bothering to say a word. Still smiling. His expression deep in throught and always pleading.

After what felt like hours, he finally stops toying with your hair- lets out a little chuckle, and chooses instead to turn his attention back to your face. Your heart sputters once you match his gaze. His expression had distinctively changed.; His eyes had a gleam in them you're sure wasn't there before. They looked wide and wild-- practically glowing. You notice his left eye is twitching ever-so-slightly, and somehow his smile had grown even fuller. His grin is almost maniacle now; stretching from ear-to-ear. His teeth are on full display, and if you'd wanted you could count each one. Visible beads of sweat had now formed on his forehead, with bits of hair clinging to it.

There was something about that look in his eyes that immediately sent wailing sirens to go off in your brain. Your entire body tensed up, every muscle in you ready to pounce.

His stare kept darting from yours then back up to your hair, his left eye twitching more rapidly now. You see the hand he'd been keeping behind his back steadily emerge, and the flash of a bright light reflecting off polished metal catches your eye. 

"IS THAT A KNIFE?- HE HAS A FUCKING KNIFE!"

Your body kicks into high-gear, and without any warning to yourself or to him you instantaniously push as hard as you can, sending him stumbling uncontrollably backwards. Whatever he'd been holding flies out of his hand and onto the floor, sliding somewhere behind the toilet- out of view.

He falls back, landing with a huge thud in the bathtub, taking the shower curtain down with him. The metal rod and plastic teal sheet fall on top of him, the bulk of the object barely missing his head. 

His long legs messily stick out from the side of the tub- arms skwewed outward- obviously confused and awe-stricken at what you'd just done. You were shocked yourself, you never knew you held that kind of strength locked away within your petite frame. Your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage, and you inhaled sharp, swift breaths as you stared down at Fred, still lying in the tub, shower curtain splayed on top of him. 

He pushed the large sheet off of himself just enough to reveal his face; his limbs still in a mess around him. You were amazed and honestly unnerved to see the same never-breaking smile still plastered on his face. You had shoved this man enough to send him flying backward- nearly giving him a concussion- and yet he still looked as delighted as ever. 

He let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back to the ceiling and closing his eyes. The deep sound reverberated off the walls and into your ears. It sliced through the air and sent an electic shiver down your spine and into your stomach, igniting an array of butterflies to flutter freely inside.

He chucked for a solid half-minute straight, eventually slowing down and wiping little tears of joy from his eyes before turning back to you. Despite the insane circumstances, his expression now appeared less demented. Instead, it seemed much more relaxed, favoring the appearance of sincerity and, above all, genuine amusement.

You couldn't decide whether to be angry, frightened, or smile along with him. Hesitantly, you opted to stay quiet and say nothing, crossing your arms tightly around your chest, shaking.

Finally, after an eternity, he spoke. His smooth voice seeped into your ears, oozing through you like thick nectar. 

"My, my, dear. What did you go and do that for?"