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Cairo Sweet x Reader

Summery: You should've known better than to fall for Cairo, your friend who seemed to have no interest in you, but it only takes one drink to mess things up and get you into her bed.

Warnings: Attempts at writing, angst, miscommunication, slight sexual content, underage drinking, Miller being an inconvenience, and heartbreak

Word count: 3.3k yikes

A/n: Hm, not sure how I feel about this one but its been sitting in my drafts long enough, might need a part 2...

“What do you look for in an ideal partner?” Cairo furrowed her eyebrows, her pencil caught between her lips. Your question threw her off track, and she grumbled softly as she erased a mistake. She glanced up at you, annoyed by your upside-down gaze and the way your lips quirked.

“Someone who doesn’t have a camera hanging around their neck all the time.” She retorted, eyes drifting back down to her notes.

You perked up, grasping the camera that was indeed resting on your neck. “Seriously?” You scoffed, settling back into the blanket.

Cairo smirked behind her pages, taking full satisfaction in your crestfallen demeanor. “Oh, and people who aren’t into Marvel.” She added, chuckling at your deadpan reaction.

Assuming the conversation was over, she resumed writing, scribbling random thoughts only to look away and meet your raised brow, tied with an expectant look. God you had to be needy. With a heavy sigh, she shut her book. Typical, you rarely gave her time to properly invest in her writing.

“Fine…I guess for them to make a good income? You know, enough to support me and my writing. Or at least put up with it.” Cairo explained with a shrug, nose scrunching at the way your eyes softened. Ignoring it, she pointed to you with her pen, hitting your nose, “And you are ten grand in debt, unfortunately missing the cut, so sorry.” She said with a faux pout.

Once again, you scoffed, pushing her away and murmuring about how unserious she could be. Cairo fell back on the blanket with a laugh, feeling anything but apologetic, though your smile gave you away.

As you reached into your bag for your notebook, Cairo assumed she might finally get some writing done. Quiet time was her favorite time with you - if you had to be there, which she preferred if you weren’t, totally. Either way, the sound of you fiddling with your camera grounded her; enough so she could focus on her work again.

Initially, Cairo found certain quirks about you irritating, but as she spent more time with you, she began to see them in a new light. The small curses that left your lips when your camera wasn’t working properly, the spontaneous photos you snapped of Cairo - they became endearing rather than bothersome. And above all, your unwavering support and genuine admiration for her writing. Something Cairo needed more than she’d ever admit.

With each word of encouragement and every heartfelt compliment, Cairo's heart swelled, in a dreadful way. It was more than admiration or appreciation; it was something more, a feeling she couldn't deny, no matter how hard she tried.

Though she continued to brush off your advances and maintain a facade of indifference, yet Cairo couldn't ignore you whenever your eyes met hers, the way your smile seemed reserved for her alone.

Yes, you were her friend, but that was all. Nothing was worth the risk of ruining things now. Especially if you didn’t truly mean what you spoke.

“Have you read anything new lately?” You asked, your back hunched over as you picked with the old thing. Honestly, Cairo couldn’t see why you still put up with it, the damn thing broke all the time. But still, it was a classic model from the 50s, an heirloom from your grandfather, which she could respect.

Her hand reached over and shoved at your back, smiling in satisfaction when you straighten your back, shooting a glare in her direction.

“I finished Lolita, it was on Miller's list for its themes of controversy. I wouldn’t read it again though.” She mumbled, “I did pick up this new book called Rebecca, it’s allegedly a psychological thriller but what’s so dark about being haunted by your partner's ex?”

You scoffed, doodling some part of the camera in your journal, “A lot.”

“Doesn’t seem too bad, I mean they’re dead right? Can’t do anything.”

“I wouldn’t risk crossing a paranormal creature like that.” You commented, with a shrug of your shoulders. Cairo hummed, watching you work. When you made no further comments she returned back to her notebook, spending the hour before class working separately.

—

Despite Mr. Miller's evident excitement towards writings of controversy, apparently, that wasn’t the case with Cairo. It was a mistake, a stupid mistake but a mistake she assumed a man like him would love. How wrong was she?

A student longing for their middle-aged professor was where the line was drawn. The hypocrisy of it all made Cairo want to laugh, who was he to dismiss her paper that way? She knows the other students, the other students who wrote worse. The book Miller had them read was even worse.

But no, what was done was done. And now she was convinced Miller thought she was coming onto her, just what she needed. Cairo wouldn’t be surprised if he reported her and there was suddenly a new switch in teachers. As annoying as that’d be, she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

Instead of a clear schedule, there was now an overdue assignment, dragging her grade down that she had to redo. All. Over. Again.

Oh how she wanted to scream at that, a relaxing week gone.

“Stupid fucking Miller…” Cairo muttered, walking with haste to her car. Once inside she slammed the door, pressing her head against the wheel. A knock on her window startled the girl, causing her to look up with a huff, her eyes widening once she realizes who it is.

“Are you alright?” You ask, waiting for her to roll down the window. She does just that, wiping her face with her arm. Was she crying? “You look…off.” Typically your way of saying she looked like shit. Mascara smeared and all she couldn’t blame you.

Deciding not to answer your question, Cairo motions to the passenger seat, tossing her bag carelessly into the back seat. “Get in.”

“But I already have a ride-“

“And I’m offering…just come inside.” She grits between her teeth, letting out an impatient sigh. She doesn’t know why she needs you in the car with her but doesn’t give herself time to dwell on it, when you’re slipping into the seat next to her.

Your posture is tense and that bothers her. She didn’t mean to come off…abrasive. Taking her eyes off yours, she starts the car, preparing herself for the upcoming conversation. You quickly buckle yourself in without another word.

The car ride could’ve been more comfortable, which usually it was but your consistent nervous tapping was starting to bother the brunette. Wordlessly she threw her stapled papers in your lap, you opened your mouth to speak but Cairo beat you to it, mumbling a small ‘read it’.

You flipped through her work carefully and Cairo didn’t have the heart to look at your reaction, not this time. It was different with you judging her work, not that you judged, words of compliments spilled out of your lips every time you did read something of hers, tugging those same old heartstrings Cairo was starting to get sick of. Unlike those other moments, this time, it was different as you flipped silently through her work. Did she really screw it up this bad?

She heard a hiss leave your lips and if she weren’t driving the car her head would’ve snapped in an instant. Turns out you were only focusing on the grade and notes Miller left, better yet lack of.

You bit the inside of your cheek, slowly sliding the papers back to her, pursing your lips. Cairo huffed, removing one hand from the steering wheel to snatch them back, throwing them harshly towards the back.

So, she was in a bad mood. You thought, hands clutching at your knees, swallowing dryly.

“So?” Cairo asks, her voice on the verge of a shout.

“Well, it was interesting. I mean I skimmed through it so I don’t know, your writing was good- like always.” You spoke rapidly, a nervous trait.

“God Y/n, if you thought it was bad you could’ve just said so!” She blurted exasperatedly.

“I don’t! Cairo you know I adore everything you write, this just caught me off guard. Doesn’t mean I like it any less, I promise.”

A silence loomed over the car, and you shrank into your seat even further if that was even possible. Cairo let out a sigh, losing her grip on the steering wheel.

“Sorry, I'm just feeling…” Cairo's voice trailed off as she struggled to find the right words. She didn’t want to fight, not again. The guilt weighed heavy on her chest every time she saw that deflated look on your face. She couldn’t keep pushing you away, that wasn’t fair. But she also couldn’t shake that feeling of uncertainty she felt around you, about what she wanted, when you were what she wanted, “frustrated with this assignment.”

“And that’s okay,” You reassured her, your voice as gentle as ever, as you reached out to take her hand. Cairo’s gaze flickered down to your hands, feeling a mix of comfort and apprehension, before reluctantly allowing them to intertwine, giving you a small squeeze. “I’m here for you if you need me, anytime.”

Suddenly, the car felt much tighter than before, the lump in her throat growing heavier. She wasn’t sure when her eyes started to water or why your touch felt like a burden, but she knew she couldn’t hold it any longer. It all felt too intimate too quickly. Silently, she withdrew her hand, placing it back in her lap oblivious to the hurt expression on your face.

Yet, she couldn’t ignore the own ache in her chest.

—

A bright white light blurred endlessly in Cairo's eyes, slow and unresponsive to everything else that wasn’t her assignment. She fought tirelessly at the screen in front of her, the now blank page mocking her to no end. In the midst of it all Cairo recalled how easy her first essay had been to create, only to be dismissed.

With a huff and slam at her laptop, she tossed the thing aside, landing back on her bed with a grunt. She separates herself from her work, wiping at her burning eyes with her hands. To say Cairo was frustrated was an understatement. After driving around with you for a while she let you go, dropping you off.

A decision Cairo started to regret.

Once again, her parents were out of town doing who knows what. It was something Cairo was used to, but it still bothered her more than she’d admit. Some company would be nice, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could take rewriting that assignment anyway.

After mulling it over in her head, she lifted herself up, to open her phone. Her eyes remained locked on your contact, holding a photo of you and Cairo at the library. While Cairo had her nose stuck in a book, you looked at her like she was everything and more. The picture only made her stomach gnaw uneasily, but still, with much hesitance she dialed your number, listening to it ring.

“Hey, can you come over?”

An astonishing ten minutes was all it took for you to appear at her door. Cairo smiled at you, tugging you in. She noticed you carrying a small plastic bag but didn’t comment on it, dragging you up to her room.

“I brought you something.” You said, softly closing the door behind you. Cairo sat herself on the bed, tilting her head curiously. “A lot of things actually.”

How Cairo managed to miss the balloon you had brought in with you, reading in big bold letters: ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ was totally behind her. Cairo raised a questioning eyebrow and you explained for her writing losses, and Cairo didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or punch you.

Fortunately, you reached into the bag before she could consider the latter, pulling out a familiar bottle of scotch that had Cairo’s lips contorted into one of mischief and pleasure. “And I figured you could use a drink, or two.” You muttered thoughtfully, tossing the bottle on her lap. Cairo traced the bottle with her fingers before twisting it open with a ‘pop’.

You moved around the room, searching for glasses you could use. Spotting two clean ones on the dresser you grabbed them, and settled down next to Cairo, leaving a respectable distance between you. Cairo already had her lips on the bottle by the time you poured the drinks and you raised an amused eyebrow, handing her the whiskey-filled shot. She downed it impressively and you attempted to do the same, failing quite miserably when the burn settled.

Cairo laughed and you settled further into her bed, grumbling embarrassedly. And it had only taken two more shots for you to really feel the effects, and you could tell Cairo was starting to feel them too, a giddy smile plastered on her face that never seemed to leave. Your shoulders untensed noticeably from how serene the air felt, wishing that every moment with Cairo didn’t feel like walking a tightrope.

Yet there was still something there – a lingering tension of sorts that no matter how hard you tried wouldn’t leave. You assumed Cairo felt the same when you met her eye and a soft smile tugged on her lips, one that you couldn’t help but return.

Time seemed to blur with the buzz of alcohol in your body, everything having been so peacefully quiet till Cairo shifted against the headboard, lips lingering on the bottle. Her gaze met yours and your stomach stirred. Not knowing why, foolishly, you looked away. Never had Cairo looked in your direction with so much fervor, and you’d be damned if she started now, under the influence when she didn’t mean it–couldn’t mean it.

But your heart would always betray you, now more than ever. So when she took another swing, you knew you were a goner by the way her eyes darkened and her teeth shone. Your own eyes remained locked to her lips and you swallowed dryly, feeling your heart race because she was staring back the same way.

Cairo didn’t seem bothered, chuckling under her breath as she tucked the bottle away, then swiftly advancing on you the next second, giving into what you both so desperately wanted.

She stumbles into your lap messily, thighs encircling your waist and you groan when she squeezes, placing your hands on her thighs to anchor yourself. Cairo took the opportunity to trail kisses down your collarbone, her lips moving frantically, eager to kiss every inch of you. You let yourself get lost in the sensation, trying to block out that part of your mind that tells you, this is wrong.

Cairo stifles a moan when your nails dig into her hips, grounding her and you both shiver at the contact. Your hand slides along her side, encouraging her, and she does just that, moving slowly against your thigh. Then the room changes completely when her noises become louder, and the pit in your stomach grows hotter. And you have to take a moment to separate yourselves, breathing out of sync.

“What are we doing, Cairo?” You whisper affectedly, rubbing your hands along her inner thighs and Cairo sighs.

“Whatever you want me to do.” She whispers back in the same tone, bringing your foreheads together. “Guide me.”

Despite her words, she’s the one to bring your mouths together first. It’s hesitant and slow, and you both sigh. Her hips press harder against you, and you break the kiss with a grunt. “More.” And that’s enough for you to kiss her again, in a much more heated kiss than before.

Your head is spinning in pleasure as Cairo’s hips grind against yours. With shaky hands you squeeze her skin, taking control of her movements and slowing them down. Cairo whines against your lips, begging and you realize you’re completely weak against her and give her what she needs, meeting her thrusts.

She comes undone on your thighs next, hips spasming, and gasping against your lips as she comes down from her high. Her body goes limp and she falls on your shoulder for support. You press a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back with your hand to soothe her, not really caring if the act is more intimate for whatever this is.

You switch your positions to lay her to rest on the bed, pressing soft lingering kisses on her face as you do, and she curls in beside you blissfully ignorant to what had happened, and you wonder if she’d still be like this with you if this never did occur.

Still, you hold her tighter, blinking as the past minutes replayed in your head, trying to make sense of the situation. Your thoughts only come to a halt when Cairo’s lips are back on your neck, and you shake away the goosebumps because you know you can’t do this again without truly knowing.

“Cairo—what, what did we do? What was this?” Your voice cracks through the silence, a lump forming in your throat.

“Sex,” Cairo states matter-of-factly, continuing to kiss your neck, but it has your heart dropping to your stomach and suddenly you feel sick. Maybe it was just the alcohol or the heartbreak, or both. Either way, it had you pulling away.

“But did it mean anything?” You ask hesitantly, sitting up next to take her hands off you. Cairo huffs in frustration but doesn’t stray her eyes away from you, the action only making it all the more difficult to ask. “At all—did you feel something?”

“Baby I felt many things,” She chuckles incredulously, raising an eyebrow. “What's with all the questions?”

Her wandering hands make it hard to focus on your words, each touch just a reminder of what you had done just a moment ago. You tentatively take her hands into your own, catching her by surprise. “I just mean- well you’ve never…shown or said you’ve wanted to be with me this way.”

“Just because I had sex with you doesn’t mean I want to be with you. It’s just sex, Y/n.”

You choke in disbelief, feeling a wave of soberness wash over and you let go of her hands, similarly to how Cairo did earlier.

Not really knowing what to do or say, you shuffle away from her, noticing her torn expression. It hurts you to look at her, so you don’t, choosing to face anything—the ceiling, her vanity. But everything ties back to her, and you hated yourself for allowing this to happen.

A wave of silence passes you before you have the strength to repeat something, “Right”. You manage to utter, your voice trembling.

When you make a move to leave, Cairo touches your wrist to stop you and you freeze. “It’s late, and you’re drunk. Stay the night.”

You take a shallow breath, shaking your head in denial. “I don’t think I should.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“Of course not.” You mutter, sitting back against the headboard. Cairo doesn’t question the attitude, only sparing a concerned glance before moving off the bed. Her movements are sloppy as she makes her way to the bathroom, holding a new pair of clothes.

You don’t register when she returns, but it’s long afterward. Neither of you says a word, choosing to settle in silence. There’s a palpable tension when she places a pillow between you, a silent barrier.

You want to scream, to say something, to remind her who initiated it. Tell her that if anything, you should be uncomfortable with her. But that would be a lie. Your head continues to pound throughout the night, and you decide it’s better to sleep it off, unaware of how deeply affected both of you are.

The next day, Cairo wakes up to an empty bed.

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