Obsessed | Camila x Reader

twentythree

"Y/n, come here. Bathroom." She instructs coolly as she shrugs on a leather jacket, adding when I do as she says, "You want anything from the basement?"

The letters, I want to say, but then she doesn't know I've seen them. They were hidden, after all, despite being addressed to me. So, instead...

"The blanket." I plead, "The soft one. The one that-"

"I know which one." She nods reassuringly, placing a hand over my eyes and leading me on the unfamiliar route to a just as unfamiliar bathroom which she quietly waits outside of.

Like the bedroom, the bathroom shows signs of once having some sort of style to it, if the large bath which would definitely be big enough for- nope, not thinking about that - but it's all falling apart. Tiles are missing on the walls, the door has a corner so chipped that there's a two-inch gap from where it should be, and the mirror is aged and wonky. In said mirror, I quickly look myself over, ignoring the sunken nature of my cheeks and the tired bags under my eyes and instead focusing my attention on the deep purple mark on the side of my neck, right where she'd been sucking and biting and licking just earlier. A hickey, and my first ever. I must admit, it makes my body and brain, and maybe my heart, feel things they certainly shouldn't be.

"I don't have all day." She comments from outside the door, making me huff and begin to do my business.

She hadn't gone much further than feeling me up through my clothes, though when she bit down on my earlobe with a tad more force than pleasurable, my hand flew out and landed squarely on her bare thigh, and it stayed there until she got bored and left, relieving the pressure from where she pressed against my lower back.

Taking a deep breath to gather myself, I quickly wash my hands and face before meeting her on the other side of the door. I glance about quickly before she can cover my eyes, but don't catch a glimpse of anything but a hallway leading to various closed doors.

"How long?" I ask as she takes me down the hallway. She hums in question, so I add, "How long am I gonna be up here?"

"Forever, baby." She says joyfully, "You're not going back to that basement, I promise."

"Oh," I mumble, waiting for her to unclasp her hand-blindfold before quickly spinning and wrapping my arms around her. "Please don't be long."

As if taken aback, she hesitates before returning the hug, lifting my face with a bent finger beneath my chin and kissing me softly.

"What's gotten into you?" She frowns, peering down her nose at me. Her palms, flat against my back, begin to slowly run circles into my shirt.

"I just... I don't wanna be alone. Please."

She seems to consider this for a moment before nodding, briefly kissing me again before spinning out of the bedroom and locking the door behind her.

I dash to the window to watch her drive away in a relatively small white car, though I can't see which direction the exit is. Not that it matters much anyway when I'm locked in a room and have no idea where the nearest civilised settlement is. So, instead of an attempt of escape—which, I'm reminded by the burning of the scar across my torso, never work out—, I decide to see if there's anything filling the drawers of the dresser and bedside tables.

The latter are empty, though the dresser is full to the brim. One drawer holds a wide variety of comfortable clothing, things like baggy shirts and sweatpants and oversized hoodies (or perhaps they're only oversized because of the weight I've shedded). Another is full of underwear, though far less comfortable than the rest. As unhygienic as it is, I'd rather remain in her boxers than change into one of those lacy thongs, and she's entirely lacking in the bra department. A drawer at the top is locked with yet another key, and in the one beside it are more presentable outfits, things like jeans and real shirts and fancy dresses. I consider taking them out for a better look, but one imagining of Camila storming in here, pissed that I've moved things around, sends me reeling back towards the window.

...

"Y/n?" She calls out, breaking me out of my half-asleep state as she hurried into the room. Her hair is now a mess atop her head and her clothes are significantly more dishevelled than when she left, but she lets out a breath of relief when she spots me sitting up in the bed. "Oh, thank god," She sighs, leaving out an explanation as she holds up two large plastic bags and the cream blanket in her other hand, "I washed it for you." She grins.

"Thank you." I nod, taking the fleece blanket and tucking it under the duvet. Out of all the others down in the basement, this was the only one which couldn't be described as a lowly scrap of fabric. Its fleece material made it the best at keeping me warm and it feels soft against my skin. During those days down in the basement which could quite possibly have added up to months, this blanket was my only source of comfort. The little puddle duck embroidered into the corner adds a personal touch.

She grins when I pull it up to my face, commenting, "Adorable, baby," and making her way up to me. I watch over the blanket as she sets the bags down on the mattress beside me before straddling my crossed legs, planting a kiss on my forehead.

"Maybe I should call you my little duck, huh?" She grins warmly, poking my nose, "It's cute."

I shrug, looking down to the bags with curiosity. She follows my gaze and, without getting off of my lap, she begins to explain how, because 'it wasn't safe there anymore', she's moved us to a whole new house. She won't tell me where, and I have a feeling she never will. The things in the bags, she adds, are some of her belongings that she didn't bring across at first. There are still more and she'll be making more trips back and forth between the houses, but she promises she won't leave me alone for too long.

"You're just a little duck, right?" She finishes, "You can't be alone for too long. You have to stay near me, right?"

Swallowing my pride, I nod, accepting her hug and burying my face in her chest.