Addicted | Camila x Reader / discontinued

Something Seems Wrong

For months, Camila prepares. She brainstorms, collaborates, rehearses, redesigns, and tries on various outfits before settling on just how she wants her great comeback tour to be. Then, they make the big announcements. Her schedule revolves around interviews and talk shows for a while before the first day of tour.

I wake up that day to her already staring at me, unusual as she hadn't fallen asleep until late and usually would take the chance to sleep in whenever it arose. Still, I smile as she does, leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose before meeting my lips. She pulls me in by the hips, but I push back with a hand on her chest, reluctantly separating us before it can go too far. We spent the night on the tour bus, after all, so as to be at the venue literally as soon as possible that morning. I don't want to bug the other people on board with the sure-to-result moans and groans if we let our morning make out continue.

"We should get ready," I explain when she whines, trying again to pull me close. Chuckling, I go with the momentum and roll over her, thus freeing myself from her grasp. I stand and pull her from the bunk.

She manages to steal another kiss before we head to the kitchen where she traps me against the counter while I brew us both a cup of coffee. When she nuzzles into the crook of my neck, I turn with my brows furrowed.

"You're never like this so early," I comment, looping my hands loosely over her shoulders and trying to ignore the bulge growing in her sleep shorts. "What's gotten into you?"

"Nervous, I think," she shrugs, diving back into my neck and spreading a line of harsh kisses from my collar bone up to the point right below my ear. My eyes slide shut. When she brings my earlobe between her teeth and bites down gently, my eyes fly open, causing me to instantly halt the moan now stuck in my throat. "Um, babe," I stammer, turning her by the shoulders and pointing shyly to the young man across the room, his jaw agape as he regards the scene unfolding.

"Ugh, it's just Larsen." She groans, turning once more to pepper my skin with her kisses. Awkwardly, I wave to the boy who shoots a perhaps-overly polite smile in return. Camila seems to sense this as she reaches back and slaps at the air aimlessly. "Keep it in your pants." She mumbles against my skin, causing us all to laugh softly.

The coffee machine stops whirring and she finally pulls back to take the mug in her hands, practically moaning as the caffeine hit her tongue.

"That's exactly what I needed. Thanks, little duck." She smiles broadly, cupping the side of my face with one hand and scrunching her nose momentarily. My heart flutters. She turns on her heels, takes a banana from the fruit basket, and sits herself down behind the foldable table, watching Larsen cautiously as he squeezes past me to reach the cupboards above my head. I slip out of the way, taking my own mug with me, and drop down beside Camila, leaning into her slightly.

It feels odd to be back in a bus setting with her, but good too. I'm hoping it'll help me gain her trust a little more. She is much better than before, of course. She lets me have free reign when we're at home, free to come and go as I please, but only at home. She keeps me on a tight leash when we're in public, and grows angrier at the small mistakes that she might have let slide at the house. Still, I'd like to be able to at least go to the store on my own sometimes.

More and more people stream from the bunks, and I realise I haven't met any of them before. Camila seems comfortable with each of them, however, so I let my focus wander to her hand resting on my inner thigh.

"Baby," she speaks, bringing me back to the present. I notice she's finished her coffee and banana and everyone has disappeared once more. "You okay? You kinda zoned out."

I smile softly and nod. "I'm good. Kinda tired."

She mirrors my smile and squeezes my thigh gently, moving to smile. "You should go nap, little duck. I need to get ready for rehearsal."

I want to refuse, to go with her and watch, but instead of 'no,' a yawn slips from my mouth. I follow her as she leads me to our bunk and helps me slip inside, planting a kiss on my forehead before pulling the curtain closed. I notice how she 'discreetly' pulls my phone from the end of the bunk but don't point it out. She likes to keep tabs, is all; she likes to make sure I am safe.

I awake to an empty bus and see I've already been sleeping for a few hours. After freshening up in the bathroom, I go to try to find Camila, or at least her dressing room to wait for her, but the bus door is locked. To pass the time, I explore, familiarising myself with the layout of the kitchen cabinets and grabbing a snack along the way, considering it is around lunchtime. I peer into each bunk, noting which were empty and which have been slept in, and guessing whose is whose based on what I saw this morning. While every bottom bunk besides Camila's and mine are empty, I think the one above ours belongs to the quiet blonde I'd seen. The one opposite seems to be for the brunette woman who, for some reason, had chosen to don dramatic winged eyeliner at such an early hour. The others seem rather similar, and I conclude that they must belong to Larsen and his bandmates. Then, I continue to the back of the bus, settle on the sofa, and turn on the TV to a random channel which happens to be broadcasting a teen drama that quickly pulls me in.

I don't realise how much time has passed until I reach for my phone, only to remember she'd taken it before leaving. Brows furrowing, I move to the blind-covered window only to see, out in the darkening parking lot, a group approaching the bus. Among them, Camila. Thank god.

"Hey, babe, I brought you food." Her voice is breathy and rushed as she shoves a styrofoam take-out box into my hands. Then, she holds me with one hand on my shoulder, the other on my cheek, and presses a brief kiss to my lips. "I gotta go, show's on."

And with that, before I can protest, she spins, hesitating for a moment before putting my phone on the dashboard and slipping back out of the bus. My brows furrow and after a few seconds of shock, I quickly burst into action, grabbing my phone and following her out of the door. She is nowhere to be seen, but I hurry to the nearest entrance to the venue and set about trying to find her. Something seems wrong in her demeanour, and I'm determined to find out.

I follow muffled music all the way to the show and, thankfully, the security guards let me backstage. I watch the show from the side of the stage, lost in admiring the curvature of her body as she shows it all off for the crowd in her skin-tight, lace get-up, A part of me feels jealousy blossoming, but I push it down. Camila is mine as I am hers, and she knows that. When she begins to thank the crowd one more time for showing up, I slip away from the entrance and head to the dressing room I passed on the way, her name temporarily displayed on the door, to wait for her. The last thing I expect when I open the door is for a strange girl to be sitting inside, cowering against the edge of the sofa.

"You're not Camila," she mutters, voice trembling almost as much as her body. I feel myself frowning.

"No shit. Who are you?"