#wanda maixmoff x fem!reader

[lis-likes-fics]

Never Knew You Needed Me

Pairings: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x Reader Word Count: 18.4k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, stalking, masturbation, voyeurism, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, obsessive/possessive behavior, lesbian sex, strap-on use, somnophilia (so technically dub con), dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), overstim, multiple orgasms, fingering, degradation (name calling), praise kink, scratching, language... A/N: I got a little carried away with this fic but I finally finished and now it is ready for all of you to enjoy! It's been a while since I've written for Wanda, so this has been a joy to work on. I also tried writing in a new perspective, which was really fun! Thank you and happy reading! <3

My beautiful zajačik.

If only you knew how much you need me.

A new employee at the little café around the block, you were a sweet thing. Every morning, when I come in for my Chai or salted caramel latte, you greet me with a kind smile and kind eyes.

"Welcome back," you'd say. "What am I getting you today, Wanda?"

And I would smile back, memorize the sweetness in your face before replying with my order. Oh, you are beautiful. Your eyes, your lips, your nose, your hair—you are the picture of perfection. My perfect zajačik.

From the first moment I saw you, I knew you were meant to be mine, all mine. You're a little clumsy, nearly dropping the cup in your hand as you pluck it from the stack to write my name along the side. But you are smiley, giggling here and there at your little mishap and apologizing gently as you go along.

Poor thing, I had thought to myself.

I know you love me—or you will. You will love me, crave to be in my protection, held in my arms, close to my heart like some cherished little thing.

You will feel the heat of my love for you, the warmth of my soul protecting your own. You will be mine. As soon as I heard my name fall from your sweet lips, I knew you would be mine.

As I walk up to the little counter where you wait with a black apron and a smile, I feel my heart clenching in my chest. You mutter those same words to me, affection licking each one and drenching it in a saccharine endearment.

"I think I'll have my latte today," I reply warmly, my eyes assessing every inch of what was new.

You wear a new blouse today, one I had watched you buy from the expensive store around the corner. A gift to yourself. Curious that you decided to wear it this Tuesday, your first workday of the week, the first day you would be seeing me again.

Aww, precious thing, I think. She wants to impress me.

"I love your new blouse," I smile, deciding to give you what you want since you have been so sweet as to think of me.

Your smile spreads wider as you grab my cup to write my name on. "Thank you," you chuckle. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," I reinforce, almost a correction. Your smile widens. "Anything coming up this week?" I don't want you to stop talking. The sound of your voice is a salve to the noise of humanity around us.

You shrug adorably. "Not that I can think of. Wake up, work, go home, sleep. That's about my schedule for the week. What about you?"

What about me? I stifle my laugh, glancing at my shoes and shaking my head as I bite my lip. I look back up at your sweet gaze. "Entirely uneventful."

You chuckle, looking at me with that hopeful gaze of yours. "Well, then, maybe you and I could figure something out, hm?"

I could kiss you, those pillowy lips which taste of fruit flavored chapstick.

"Maybe," I agree, stepping away from the counter to finally relent to the impatient woman I can feel burning holes into the back of my head. I have no care for her, she is not important, but if I must, I will.

My eyes stay glued to your face as I shift off to the side to allow you your next customer. From where I stand in the little café, waiting for my order, I continue to watch you. So beautiful, so perfect.

You treat everyone with such kindness, so impartial to the follies of man in order to rely on whatever good you can pull from them when they choose to offer it. Do you not get tired? Hungry for more of that virtue held so tightly in the palm of everyone's greedy hands, only to be given in scarcity at exclusively the most necessary times?

If you do, you don't show it. So trusting of humanity. My perfect, foolish zajačik.

But it's okay. Soon, you will not need to worry about such things. Your mind will be put to rest from the horrors of man. I will take you in my arms and give you the only world you will ever need.

But for now, you hand me my latte and a kind farewell, smiling at me all the way out of the door and some time after as well.

~

You roam the aisle, your delicate fingers skimming the spines of a variety of library books. One book is clenched in one hand, held to your chest as you look for another. Pretty and Reckless, a book you picked up last week in search of a good read.

I try not to pull myself away from the bookmark rack too quickly, but you're so pretty. I can't help but to want to hear your precious voice.

"Whatcha reading?" I finally ask as I approach you with just as warm a smile.

You turn to me, and your eyes are as bright as the stars that shine over your apartment in the dead of night. "Wanda!" you exclaim quietly, respectful of the peace of the library. "What are you doing here?"

So precious.

"Well, it is a library. Pretty sure it's public domain," I nearly coo, entranced in the cute little look on your face, the blush rising on your cheeks.

"Right. Um, yeah," you stumble over your words, nervous and awkward and mesmerized by me. Me. The woman I know you love, will love. Soon. "I just finished this book by Charity Ferrel," you shake your head, clearing your thoughts, "it's called Pretty and Reckless."

"Sounds interesting."

You nod excitedly, "It's about this girl named Elise who basically falls for her polar opposite: he's cool and collected, she's fiery and reckless. In the description it says, like, 'He tried to save her. She tried to ruin him.'"

I hum, nodding gently as I cling to every word that falls from your lips. "I might have to check that one out sometime."

You nod again, shifting the book to your other hand. "You should; it's a good read," you smile. You tuck some hair behind your ear, and my fingers itch to do the same, to touch your smooth skin, to caress you. "What about you?" you ask, gesturing toward my own book. "What were you reading?"

"Tell Me to Stop."

"Oh," you hold your breath, so delicate and small. For a moment, I thought I startled you. But, now I see in the darkening of your cheeks, you're enticed by the title.

I knew you would be.

"Charlotte Byrd," I smile. "She owes a debt. He decides she can settle it with a deal: he gets her for a year and she has to do basically anything he tells her to. But," you hang onto my every word like I've put a spell on you, "she refuses to sleep with him. So he promises that, by the end of the year, she'd be begging for it."

Perhaps I got lost in the description a little as I stare at your beautiful face, soft lips parted and eyes focused on me. Either way, you're not affected in any way that tells me to stop.

You breathe a gentle sigh. "Sounds like Stockholm Syndrome."

I raise a brow. "You don't like it?"

"On the contrary," you shift. You recover your smile and shake your head, glancing back and forth between me and your shoes. "You're so much better at descriptions than me."

I shrug my shoulder. "No worries. You're cute." I probably say it with too much fondness, but you shudder at the gentle compliment.

You clear your throat. "Why don't we switch? Read and reconvene?"

I lean forward slightly, just to be a little closer to you as I charm you with a grin. "That sounds like a beautiful idea."

"Great!" you beam. "So…" You struggle to come up with something else to say, to propose a meeting.

That's okay. Once you're officially mine, you'll never have to worry about such things.

"Come back in a week?" I suggest. "Or we could get coffee sometime before then?" I reach out, my movements out of your line of view, and you shudder when my tender touch grazes your wrist.

"Oh," you breathe, "sure!" You think for a moment before reluctantly moving from my embrace in favor of reaching into your purse. You pull out a pen and a crumpled up receipt and write down your number.

"Just…" you finish writing and look up with a smile to offer up the receipt, "feel free to call me anytime?"

I take it, despite the fact that I already have your number memorized.

"Will do," I promise. I hand my book to you, and you take it with a lingering gaze. "Let's go check out."

You agree, beginning to walk at my side. You stiff and lean into my hand when I set it on the small of your back. You're so responsive to my touch, you always have been.

When we gather outside of the library, our new books in our arms, you shuffle in your spot and I watch you with my adoring gaze. "I hope you enjoy the book," you smile sincerely.

"I'm sure I will. You suggested it. I trust your taste."

"Oh, uh, thanks." You lick your bottom lip and roll it between your teeth. You look at me again, a twinge of regret lingering in your gaze as you offer a gentler grin. "I should probably go."

Aww, you don't want to leave me. But that's okay. It will always be okay. I'll never leave you.

"Okay," I reach out and grab your hand. It's so soft, I can't help but to glide my thumb over the back of your palm. You shudder at my touch as your smile falters.

"I'll be seeing you around, sweetheart."

Your breath trembles and your lips curve up once more. "See you."

I linger there a moment longer than I should before I separate from you and turn on my heel to walk down the street. I feel your eyes gaze after me, and I smile to know you want me so badly to be next to you.

~

This night is still and silent. The stars glint off of your windows and the full moon in the sky gleams with a beauty you easily trump. It is your last day at work for the week, and you had a tendency to stay up a little longer on such nights.

You're so pretty, laying in front of the window just wide enough to showcase your bed, your feet kicked up behind you. Your curtains are wide open, unafraid of the eyes that may wonder into your home. It's like you know I'm here, like you can feel the heat of my gaze over your skin and you crave more. You're reading the book I suggested to you, and you have been reading it for nearly an hour now.

I'm distracted from you as a set of bright headlights shine down the road and onto my car. My smile falls a little when I see it slowing to a stop in front of your home before I realize just what it is: a delivery truck. The man steps out of his truck with a small package, making his way up to your door where he knocks.

You perk up, excited for the expected delivery as you rush out of your room. You disappear from my view for too long before reappearing at the door with one of your kind smiles.

You thank him kindly as he hands you your package before he retreats from the door with the wish of "have a good night". You close the door and disappear for longer than you had before.

When you get back to your room, you turn off the main light and replace it with the gentle glow of your lamp. Your gaze lingered on your package for a moment before you set it on your nightstand. Grabbing your book, you venture to your tiny desk and set it down, gliding your hand over the cover.

You let a gentle sigh pass through your lips, and I watch you sit on your bed and lay back on your sheets. You don't cover yourself with your blanket, and my breath stalls as I watch you brush your hands over the skin of your bare legs uncovered by your tiny shorts. Your palms knead your flesh, dipping in the valley of your thighs and just rubbing the skin as you breathe.

Your hand rubs along the clothed junction of your thighs. Your fingers tease the band before you dip your hand underneath to feel yourself. You're so beautiful, touching yourself with your closed eyes and open curtains.

Your hips shift slightly against your own touch before your relenting, pulling your shorts down your legs and leaving you in nothing but those sweet panties of yours. Your fingertips graze over the fabric, and your legs twitch at the sensations. I watch as your other hand glides along your belly before dipping underneath your shirt and cupping your breast. You grab and grope and flick at your nipple under the shirt as the movements relay to your other hand.

"My sweet girl needs me," I whisper to myself, but I make no move to get out of my car. No, it isn't time yet.

I reach into the glove department, wrapping my hand around the fabric neatly folded in its place. I bring it to my face, inhaling a deep breath as the scent of you fills my brain. On a long exhale, I open my eyes again and raise my hand. The scarlet flicks of my fingers twirls in the air and seeps through your window. "Take your clothes off for me, baby."

My magic reaches you, soaking into your skin and filling you with my will, the will you so desperately need. Like the obedient little toy you are, you obey me and strip down until you are bare for me.

Fuck, you're so pretty. My pretty zajačik.

Your finger glides through your folds before you're circling your little clit. Your body squirms, arching into your hands as your peaked nipples keen to your touch. I want so badly to touch you, to do as you do as you finally press your finger into your little hole.

Immediately, your mouth falls open and a tiny moan leaves from your throat. You grind your hips into your hand and you grab your breast roughly.

I can't help myself, watching your fingers sink in and out of your squelching pussy is like a drug to me. Slipping my hand under the waistband of my jeans, my finger meets my own throbbing clit. I rub gentle circles on it, enough to calm my burning ache for you.

You fuck yourself with your fingers, and the sound of your wetness dripping from your cunt is hypnotic.

But then you stop, and you pull your fingers from yourself. I watch, curious as to what has pushed you to stop granting yourself the pleasure you so desperately deserve.

And then she sees you reach for your nightstand, grabbing the package you'd just received. Opening it with trembling hands, you slowly reveal the new toy you'd gotten. It's crude, a red dildo of no impressive size, but nothing particularly disappointing. My lips quirk into a smirk and I lean forward toward my window to watch you.

You stare at it for a moment, catching your breath as you stroke it in the palm of your wet hand. With bated breath, you position the thing between your legs, gliding it through your soaking folds to lather it in your arousal.

And when you poke it inside of you, you stifle a moan. I watch with vivid fascination as you take it inside of you, inch by inch, until it is sheathed all the way to the hilt. You let out a breath, breaking off into a moan.

My finger digs inside of me, pressing through my wet folds and filling me as I curl and pump it in and out of my hole in rhythm with the dildo inside of your own. You're reduced to gasps and moans, whimpering around the length that fills you.

"Oh, baby," I moan. My sweet little zajačik just needs someone to fuck her, doesn't she?

As if you can hear me all the way from where I watch, you moan and gasp out a chant of yes, yes, yes. Your finger keeps circling your clit, bringing you closer and closer to that explosive release you so crave.

My fingers curl and I clench around them, sucking them in as I ride my hand like you ride your new toy. I can feel myself getting closer, and closer, and closer. I need you, just like you need me.

Your gasps are short and rough, your hips are stuttering, your back is arching. You're so close now. So close.

"Cum for me, my love, my zajačik. Cum for me," I sigh out, breathless.

And like the good girl you are, you obey. You suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes and moaning as a pathetic whimper rises within you. You cum hard, riding the wave to the very end as I follow behind in just as powerful a release.

Fuck, you're perfect. You need me so much. You need me to fuck you like you deserve, my good girl.

You lay limp on your sheets for a while, coming back to yourself before you pull the dildo from your spent cunt. You stand on trembling thighs, retreating into your bathroom to clean yourself up before you crawl into your sheets after turning off your lamp and allow yourself to succumb to sleep.

You're asleep in no time, so tired, so precious. I stare for a while longer before I'm looking back through my windshield and then down at my wet fingers. I smile, chuckling a little as I shake my hand. "You've made such a mess of me, baby," I whisper, bringing my finger to my lips and sucking on them absent-mindedly before I'm collecting myself again.

I let out a gentle breath before glancing at your window again, your sleeping body at peaceful rest. "I love you," I promise.

Starting the car again, I pull out of my spot and drive away from your house, excited to see you again tomorrow.

~

"How's the reading going?"

The question falls easily from my lips as I see her once again at the café.

"Actually," you smile almost bashfully, shrugging a shoulder cutely. "I finished the book. It was really good."

I smile wide, "Yeah?"

"Yes," you bite your lip. "Thanks for recommending it."

"Of course."

You sigh, "What about you?"

I scoff lightly. "Oh, I'm almost finished. I've been so busy lately," I smile gently to myself, "I haven't been able to read as much."

"I get it," you chuckle. You become bashful again, licking your bottom lip and glancing down at the counter. "Hey, so I was thinking. Wanna, like—I mean, if you're not busy… We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don't have a lot of time."

My sweet girl, finally working up the nerve to ask me out yourself. The pride swells inside of me as I nod and smile. "That sounds amazing."

Your face lights up with pure jubilation, eyes flashing with light and smile full of joy. "Okay, good!" you exclaim softly. "Um, I'll text you."

"Alright," I agree, reaching over to pluck the marker from your fingers to write my number on a small cup for you. "In the meantime," I hand the cup to you, "I'll have my Chai."

"No problem," your grin is so sweet. I fawn over your beauty as you ring up my order and finally force yourself to tend to the next customer.

And when we finally go on that date, stealing your lunch hour away to sit in the café with our books in hand, I know now more than ever that we were meant to be together. You laugh and talk and express every feeling you have about your book. Then you talk about how pretty you think I am, and I tell you how beautiful you are in return. You reach out to caress my fingers across the table, and I reach over and take your hands in mine to finally stop this teasing wandering of touches. You brush hair out of my face, you tell me I'm lovely, and when your lunch break ends, I depart reluctantly from the table and let you get back to work with the promise of seeing you again.

Sooner than expected.

For that night, when you're sound asleep in your bed, your front door opens with a gentle swing. I walk into the house, closing the door gently behind me as I venture through the house. I wander into your little kitchen, opening the fridge and cabinets to see the food not entirely stocked. Your other cabinets are full of paper plates, a few glass dishes for guests, and mix-matched plastic dishes.

I tut gently, shaking my head with a gentle sigh before heading over to the tiny living room. There's one small sofa, big enough for three people at most. The television is just as small, but it's hardly ever used due to work and reading. There's a small blue ceramic dolphin on the coffee table. Picking it up, I chuckle at the little tape note hidden on the bottom that reads "demon". This, I will bring with me. I put it in my pocket, patting it twice for safekeeping.

I walk down the slim hall to your room, opening the door as silently as I can as my eyes fall on your sleeping form. So peaceful.

I glance around the room, content with being in this cozy space again. My fingers graze the top of the dresser, opening the top drawer as they feel the soft fabric of underwear messily tossed in the space. I grab one—for safekeeping—and wrap it around the dolphin.

Bending down to my knees in front of your bed, I lift the covers spilling over the edge and reach underneath the frame for the little box waiting there. As I pull it from under its hiding place, I open it up to be sure and smile at the sight of the new toy I've watched you use a number of times now. Yes, I would keep this, too.

I flick my wrist and the box shifts out of view with red dust drifting around the space it once occupied. As I stand to my feet, I join you at the side of your bed and kneel once more just to see your pretty face as you sleep.

I linger there a moment. You're so pretty, I want to kiss those soft lips of yours. I could do more. You usually slept so heavily, you would only awaken if I spoke to you…

I could graze my hand along your side, I could spread your pretty thighs, I could let my hand slip under those shorts where you wore no panties and do what I wanted with you until the touch became too obviously real for your little mind to dismiss it as part of a dream sequence. You would wake up to my lips wrapped around that pretty cunt of yours, and you would moan and gasp my name.

How I wanted to do it… I wanted it so badly…

But I would not. Not yet. You needed to know you were mine first.

So I leaned down and I pressed my lips upon your own until I was satisfied with the tingle of my bitten flesh and pulled away. Placing a hand on your cheek, my thumb stroked your cheek as I smiled warmly.

"Hey," I whisper, brushing my hair away from my face so you would be able to see me. "Hey, sweetheart."

The way you awake, soft at first before the shock of it all startled you, is hypnotic. A flash of urgency strikes through you until you are rushing to get up. But I don't let you, holding you down gently by your shoulders.

"Wanda?" you suddenly recognize me. "What are you doing here?" Your voice is heavy with sleep, but frantic with what is probably fear. You don't need to be afraid.

"I came to get you," I smile, trying to ease your nerves. It's just me. You can trust me.

But you're just a little slow, my slow little zajačik.

"What? Why?" you stutter in a hurry to get the words out.

I shake my head as my smile widens. "Don't worry about that," I coo softly. "I've got you, baby."

It feels so nice to be able to call you that: baby, my baby, my precious little thing. Because now you would know, you could know, how much I love you.

Tears begin to sting your eyes. How sweet. You must be so happy to see me, you can't keep it in. You close your eyes as my thumb swipes under them and wipes your tears away. You don't miss the way I bring my thumb to my lips and taste the salty taste of your tears for me.

"Please," your voice trembles and I smile. "Just let me go, please."

My smile falters. Let you go? Why would I do that? You must be so confused, just waking up and finding me here. Silly little thing. Not to worry, everything would be okay.

My hand strokes your cheek, and I reassure you in a gentle tone to accommodate for my lack of a smile. Your breath shudders, your lips tremble. You're so pretty.

"Shh…" I whisper as another tear slips down your cheek. "It's okay. It's okay. Just breathe. Everything will be okay."

You shake your head, your voice squeaking on an inhale. "Wan–"

You don't get to finish my name, for my magic has already seeped into your skull and willed your mind to relax. You fall limp into your bed, your face returning to that peaceful rest that I love to see on you. I smile, stroking your cheek again and kissing your forehead before wrapping my arms around your body.

I pull you into me, your unconscious body allowing me to hold you like I've never been able to do better. You feel amazing, heavenly. I crave more of your touch, but I mustn't get sidetracked. I glance at your sleeping face and trail my hand through your hair.

"Everything is okay, zajačik."

~

"Hey, hey, hey," I bid softly as you slowly stir, finally coming to after being asleep for so long. Poor thing, you were passed out.

That same startled expression from the night before springs you awake as you shoot up and out of the bed. I hold you down to prevent your little head from spinning.

"Calm down," I whisper. "You're safe."

"Where am I?"

You precious thing. You don't have to worry, you don't have anything to be afraid of. This is a new place, you're going to be a little disoriented. But that's okay. Nothing a little bit of food can't fix.

I smile wide, in awe of the truth I get to tell. "You're home." Home at last.

But you shake your head, looking around frantically. Your breath is so quick, you'll start hyperventilating if you don't calm down.

"This isn't my home." Your voice is trembling. You're adorable when you're scared. You're not adorable when you deny my love.

But you're just a little scared. You don't mean it.

I sigh and tilt my head. I raise my hand to your cheek, my thumb stroking down the length of it as I keep my smile. "It is now."

There's silence where you absorb what you've just been told. You stare at me with wide eyes, and I can't help but admire just how pretty you really are.

I pull away and clap my hands lightly. You flinch at the sudden movement, your eyes frantic again. "I'm making breakfast." I stand to my feet and venture toward the door. "I hope you're hungry."

As my hand touches the handle, your words stop me in my tracks.

"Wanda, you kidnapped me."

They hit my chest and my head at the same time. My fists clench, my lip twitches, and I must calm myself before I do something we'll both regret.

I turn slowly, clenching my jaw as I look at you. The fear in your face has only grown and I force myself to smile to ease your nerves. From what I see, it does not work well.

"I…" I sigh and my wavering smile struggles to stay. "I brought you home."

You continue to oppose.

"You took me from my home." Tears are falling again, streaming down your cheeks and reddening your eyes. You're shaking.

My patience is wearing thin, but I try to keep it for you. "You should be grateful," I say, the irritation clear in my voice, though I try to hide it. "You'll never have to worry about anything anymore." I take a step closer, reaching out to you. "I'll keep you safe, and I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure you're never alone." I sigh and tilt my head, smiling wide. "You need me."

You speak so fast that you stumble over your words, silly girl. This is why you need me–

"No, I don't need you. I need to go home."

"You are home."

"No, I'm not!"

"Enough!"

You jolt, looking away from my reddening gaze and down to your lap as my command frightens you. You tremble and shake as you hide away from me.

Oh, my sweet girl, my darling. It hurts to see you like this, to see you cower because of my harsh words. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.

The silence thickens and the air feels sticky with fear, which, to my discomfort, smells sweet as sugar. I had hoped your fear wouldn't stick to my fingers like syrup, saccharine and honeyed.

"I'm so sorry," I sigh, the sorrow clinging to my stomach as I walk toward you. I fall to my knees before the bed, taking your face in my hands so you can see my remorse. "I'm so sorry. You'll never have to worry again." I pull you close, resting my forehead against yours. Your breath shakes and your body is still quivering.

"I've got you," I assure you, pulling away to gaze at you. You're so pretty.

Your voice is so small as a mouse, a tiny little squeak. "I wanna go home."

I smile gently, stroking your cheeks again to let you feel the warmth of my palms. "Oh…my love," I whisper. I bring your face closer, barely a distance away from my own. "You are home."

You don't respond. Perhaps you've finally accepted me.

I press my lips to your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss that I feel you need as much as I. I sigh, granting you another smile before standing to my feet.

"Now go get cleaned up." I walk toward the door once more. This time, you do not stop me. I glance over my shoulder before leaving the room. "I want to show you around."

~

Wanda gives you a small tour of her home. It's bigger than your own, but it still looks cozy and lived in.

The experience is so surreal. She smiles at you, holds your hand, tells you anything you need to know so you're not blindsided. She tells you which rooms are where, where to find this and that and those, what to do if x, y, and z, and about the fact that she is a powerful witch who has the whole place spell protected so no one could ever dare threaten to harm either of you—which means you likely couldn’t escape if you tried (and even if you did, she would be able to find you). She would always be able to find you.

The clothes she had laid out for you were new but it fit to a T. It would have been enduring, had it not been so creepy due to the whole fact that you've been kidnapped by this deranged woman.

"If you need anything," Wanda smiles, turning toward you in the hall, "you are more than welcome to ask." She sighs and sets her hand on your cheek. "I'll be right back."

Then she's walking away, descending down the hall and leaving you alone in this unfamiliar place.

You watch her leave, still not coming to full terms that this would be your life now. What was even going on? It didn't make sense.

Wanda is sweet and gentle. She's kind and thoughtful and loves complimenting you. But now you're a prisoner in her house, stuck here because she thinks you need her.

Nothing made sense.

You glance around the hall, spotting a few paintings and pictures and nothing much else—although some of them look eerily similar to the ones in your own home.

Then you see a door. It looks plain and unimportant, but you're curious. It's probably just a broom closet—but it might not hurt to look.

You place a trembling hand on the knob, turning it slowly before pushing it open with a tiny creak.

This isn't a broom closet.

As the door opens, you're met with an unexpected scene. It’s a small space—bigger than a closet but barely a room—but it’s filled to the brim with possessions and items that have only one thing in common: you.

Covering every inch of this space were pictures of you, trinkets belonging to you, clothes, recipes, books, movies, candles—you are overwhelmed by the amount of things here that are associated with you. Your wide eyes stare and stare at everything in this room. Reaching a shaking hand out, your fingers brush a photo pinned to the wall of you at a strange angle, just walking down the street on your way home from work. Next to it, there’s another picture of you talking with a tiny group of friends when you’d gone to a birthday party. Another is a photo of you behind the counter at the café handing a coffee to a customer, a large and unsuspecting grin on your face. They’re all taken from angles that only supported your worry: that Wanda is even more deranged than you assumed, she was stalking you.

From photos of you at the café, at the library, at home on the phone or on the tiny sofa in the living room or in your fucking bed with your hand between your legs. Your face pales, your fingers twitch, frightened tears sting at your eyes. You were never alone. She was always there.

She was always watching you.

Ice shocks your skin at this realization, and you stare in horror at what you’ve found. What were you supposed to do? How were you supposed to respond? Why are you even here? Why has she done anything of this? Why you?

The ice is replaced with fire. You tense as heat burns at your back, at the base of your skull, rushing through your spine and making you tremble as you feel it—her gaze, her red-hot gaze surveillancing you as it always has.

You don’t turn around, shocked still as you stand like a frozen relic of the past. When you feel her hand rest on your shoulder, you close your eyes and try not to startle as you catch your breath and ease your tears before she sees you like this. You feel her move closer to you, stepping right behind you as her face inches closer to your own. Her breath fans over your skin, her lips right next to your ear and her smile clear in her voice as she whispers, “Do you like it?”

You swallow hard, inhaling a trembling breath as your legs threaten to give out at the cutting edge of your terror. As calmly as you can, you breathe out your response, quiet and rushed. “Yeah.”

Wanda’s lips curl at your ear and she fights her urge to take your soft lobe between her teeth. “Good,” she responds, proud of her good work here. Taking in a breath far steadier than her own, she wraps her arms around your body until they’re circled around your waist, pulling you in with a tiny giggle. Your body stiffens and you swallow your urge to fight her, anxious and trembling.

“Come on,” she chirps, “I have something to show you.”

She pulls you from the room, closing the door securely behind her before unraveling herself from you and taking your hand to guide you with her. She takes you through the house where you pass doors she’s shown to you and a couple others she didn’t mention. She brings you to stand in front of one, letting you go and standing next to the door with a grin.

Wanda’s calculating eyes watch you as she crosses her arms over her chest. She tilts her head toward the door, inviting you to open it with a burning excitement behind her eyes. You carefully reach out, setting your fingers on the chilly handle before allowing yourself to twist it open.

When you open the door, you do not expect to be greeted with a grand library. The room is bigger on the inside, likely bigger than the size of the house she had stolen you from. It’s huge, each bookshelf stocked to the brim with books you have read, would read, and wouldn’t even know existed if they had not been shown to you now.

Wanda walks in behind you, a face-splitting grin painting her face as she looks around with you, watching you stare in unexpected awe at the sight before you. When she takes your hand, you’re stiff again, but you don’t think she notices much (or maybe she simply dismisses it entirely as irrelevant). “I know you like reading,” she says. “So do I.” She gestures toward the library, taking a step forward to encourage you to look around.

You swallow hard, thinking carefully about every word that ever leaves your lips around her. “I don’t read…this much.”

Her smile widens, unbelievably proud of herself. “Now you can,” she says. When she leans into your ear again, you do startle this time as she whispers a few words that chill you to the bone: “You’ve got nothing but time.”

~

As the sun finally sets, you and I sit in the kitchen. The steam bellowing off of your plate is slowly becoming thinner and thinner as the heat leaves your untouched food. You sit and stare at it, your face fallen as you frown.

I watch you sit there, my head tilted and my brows furrowed in concern. I set down my fork and extend my hand toward you across the table. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You glance at me for half a second, but you don't respond for much longer. When you do, it's in a low, monotonous voice that does nothing to convince me of your well-being. "Nothing."

I sigh, trying to reach out again, though your hands are hidden under the table and away from my view. "Come on," I mutter, offering a gentle smile to ease her nerves. "You can talk to me. Anything you want, I'll give it to you."

You finally allow your eyes to meet mine, though yours are pleading and scared and a concoction of anxiety to my steady gaze.

"I want to go ho–"

Don't say it.

You cut off, catching yourself before you can make the mistake of doubting me again as my eyes pierce through you with an intensity I do not intend. I watch you shift, closing your eyes and taking in a steady enough breath before rephrasing your unreasonable demand.

"I want to go back to my old house."

I sigh, pulling my hand back and lifting my fork once more, shifting food around my plate. "Except that." How I wish you would ask me for anything else, something I could safely give you. I want to spoil you, I want to give you anything you want, but such a request that could risk me losing you after I only just got you? How could I ever allow that?

You huff out a breath, one that shakes at the end like the beginning of a sob. "Why can't I leave?" you ask, helplessness clear in your voice. My heart aches and I want to hold you, but something cold and dirty in me tells me that you would not let me. "Am I your prisoner now?"

I shake my head, dropping my fork with a clatter as I move to dismiss such hateful thoughts. "You're not my prisoner, or my hostage, or whatever word you would use to describe yourself like that," I assure her, finally just shoving my plate away in favor of reaching out toward her. My magic surrounds her hands in red fog before pulling them into my sight over the table. From there, I simply hold your hands in mind and stroke my thumbs over your palms. You stiffen at my touch and my heart crumbles.

She just hasn't settled yet, I must remind myself.

I sigh and turn my gaze toward you again, my pleading eyes mirroring your own. "I'm… I'm scared that if I let you go back…" I close my eyes, breathing once more before I continue, "you'll run away from me, and…and I'll never see you again."

Being this vulnerable so soon feels wrong… I'm supposed to protect you. How are you supposed to trust me to protect you if I admit such fears to you so meekly?

You stare at me for a moment in silence and consideration before your lips press in a fine line and you straighten your spine again, shaking your head as your eyes well with tears and you pull your hands away. The slip of your touch against mine has a variety of emotions swelling in my chest, none of them good.

"So is this going to be like the book?" You demand, recalling the one I had suggested to you before, the one you'd finished within less than a week and had been all too eager to share your experience with. "Do I do whatever you want?" There's a pause. "You gonna make me sleep with you?"

I shake my head and scoff. "Of course not," I insist. I lean back in my seat, shrugging a little as I glance at you with a ghost of a smile at the ideas flooding my brain. "But, eventually… you'll crave that just as much as I do."

You shake your head furiously, though you look more like you're denying a truth than you do turning down a ridiculous offer. "I won't," you say, convincing yourself. "I really won't."

I look at you through my lashes, and the smile on my face looks sinister for a half a second as the images of your naked body arching into mine flash behind my eyes.

"You will."

You shudder, but you try not to make it obvious.

Shaking off the goosebumps, you begin again in another attempt at denying my love for you. "What about the title, hm?" you ask. "Tell Me to Stop."

You reach across the table and take my hands. My fingers twitch, aching to grab you and pull you close. Your eyes plead to me, begging me to heed your senseless words.

But still… the gleam in your eyes threatens to break my resolve.

"Stop, Wanda," you whimper. "Just stop, let me go."

I let one of your soft hands go, raising my palm to your cheek and sighing as you lean into it, your eyes closing gently. I shake my head and you let out a helpless breath. "No," I whisper. "No, not yet."

You pull away from me and my shoulders sag. I'm shaking my head quickly now, trying to make you understand and frustrated that you don't. "You don't know how good I am," I whisper, my voice breaking when a tear slips down your cheek. "You don't know how good we could be together."

You wipe your face. "This is sick, Wanda."

"No, it's not," I smile. "Maybe it's a little…unorthodox, but this is love."

Your entire face shifts, almost horrified. Why are you still afraid of me? "Love?" you pale, leaning back again.

I smile, nodding as I reach out to her. "I love you, my zajacik."

The confession flies from my lips, rushing out of me quicker than I can even stop to think about how much I love you. My perfect, perfect girl.

But you shake your head and my smile shakes. "You don't know me." You stand to put more distance between us. I do not follow, though I know you will not make me.

"Yes, I do." I state it as a fact, tilting my head slowly as my gaze never falters from your own. "I know everything about you."

You hold your breath, anticipating.

"You're an only child. Your mother died when you were ten, your father raised you until you moved out here for college. You have a good relationship with him, but you're not immediately close—mostly because of how long you have been separated from each other. You love romance novels that border on thrillers, you have a handful of friends who you hardly ever hang out with because they make you feel like you have to compete to stay important. When you were sixteen, you had a dog named Rango after that chameleon from Rango. You got your first job when you were seventeen, and–"

"Okay."

I stop. You stare at your feet, unmoving as we both just breathe. I stand and walk over to you, slowly and silently. When I step in front of you, I take one hand in mine and set the other on your cheek, lifting your face to look at me. You don't fight me, and I smile.

"You'll see, baby," I whisper. "You need me. You don't know it yet, but you do." You stare at me, searching my eyes for something as your own well with another set of tears. I wipe them away briefly before pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Just let me show you how great we are. Okay?"

You don't respond. You just stare at me, your beautiful, glittering eyes watching me. I brush my thumb over the apple of your cheek and sigh gently. I squeeze your hand once, "I am going to take that as yes," I smile. I linger there for a moment, enjoying our closeness before I pull away and lead you back to the table. I lower you into your seat and set my hands on your shoulders, leaning forward to set my chin in the crook of your neck.

"Finish your food," I say. "You're probably exhausted."

I tilt my face and press a kiss against your neck. Your shoulder closes at the contact, flinching away from my affection because of the unfamiliarity.

Another reason you need me: affection. It's not often you receive it, and no one could ever give affection to you the way I could.

I take my plate back into the kitchen to leave you to eat while I clean. By the time I finish, so have you. So I wash your plate and lead you to the bathroom to shower before bed. You take a while, probably just standing under the water to enjoy the heat, to savor the tension leaving your body.

When you come out, you're wearing the clothes I gave you, and you look so pretty in them. I beckon you with open arms to the bed, and you hesitate for a moment before finally walking over. You just stand there as I wrap my arms around you, submitting to me and my embrace as I hold you for a moment, just a moment to really appreciate the fact that I have you now. I have you all to myself, and there is no power on this Earth that could tear you away from me.

~

The only light in the room is whatever slips through the blinds from the gleaming moon outside. By now, your eyes have adjusted to the lack of light as you lay in bed, covers pulled up to your chin to wrap you in warmth.

But it isn't the only thing wrapped around you.

Wanda lays at your back, sleeping peacefully as her steady breaths ease in and out of her, lifting her chest in a gentle rhythm. You have it memorized at this point, breathe in…and out, in…and out, in…out.

Her arms are secure around your midsection, and sometimes her fingers twitch against you. Sometime in her sleep, her hand had wandered underneath your shirt, splayed across the expanse of your belly. She keeps you in place, and you dare not squirm in fear of disturbing her as she slumbers on without you.

You're definitely not asleep. It's your first night here—your first night knowing you were here at least—and the day you'd just had, all the emotions that had run through you were swarming in your belly and making you uneasy.

But that isn't really why you aren't asleep.

You're afraid to sleep, but not because you feel she may do something to you while you aren't aware of what it was. You know—deep down, you know—that Wanda would never hurt you on purpose. You're afraid to sleep because of what that might mean.

You're forcing yourself to stay awake because the feel of her body against yours is one of the best feelings you've experienced in a very long time. You feel safe and secure, you feel at ease with the thought of someone wanting you. You want to be here, you want to be wrapped up in her, with her gentle breaths on your shoulder and her hand on your belly.

And you're terrified because that means you're probably just as messed up as she is to feel so safe with a person who stole you in the night to keep you captive in her own home, separated from anyone and anything that was not her. What if you are twisted because she's making you feel so secure?

You want to go home.

But this is your home.

And you are twisted because you want to be here.

And you have already given in to the temptations of sleep as Wanda's fingers stroke the skin of your belly in her sleep.

~

That day was the last day we fought.

The weeks that follow run as smoothly as silk. You…cooperate. From sunup to sundown, you allow me to take care of you—to cook for you, clean for you, read with you, spoil you rotten with gifts and praises to make you feel better. There's never a day that passes that I don't shower you with compliments, there's never a moment that I ever have to raise my voice or convince you that I love you.

It's like you've submitted to me.

You're not as lively as you were before, however, the light in your eyes is not as bright as it was. You move and speak like you're on autopilot. You say please and thank you, you do whatever I ask of you whenever I ask it, you smile when you think it's appropriate to smile, and you don't oppose me.

You just obey.

Part of me wants to fix it. This isn't the you I've come to know and love: something is different. I miss your real smile, your contagious joy, your bubbly giggles. You've been holding back from me. But I have to keep reminding myself that you're adjusting. It takes time, but you'll come around.

Slowly, we'll return to normal. Slowly, you'll feel my love just as much as you've accepted it now. Slowly, I will feel your love. We can be happy. We will be happy.

And today feels like the start of it all.

"Happy birthday, my zajačik," I smile as I step into our bedroom, a cupcake in hand with the tiny candle flickering away.

There's something different in your eyes as I slowly approach you, the smile on my face spreading over your lips with half as much joy as my own. But it's a smile, a genuine smile, and I'd do anything to keep that happiness in your eyes.

"How did you kno–" You stop yourself, mentally kicking yourself as you remember that little thing about me. You just nod once, your smile becomes a little smaller. "Right."

I sit on the bed next to you, handing the cupcake over for you to cradle in your hands. "Come on, make a wish," I gently encourage, "before the wax gets on the icing."

You stare at the candle for a moment, forming your desire in your mind before you lean forward and blow out the small flame with a single little breath.

I smile, "What did you wish for?"

You shrug a shoulder, still smiling at me with a tiny grin that still holds some truth to it. "If I tell you, it won't come true."

I chuckle, scooting a little closer until our shoulders touch. "You know… I could always just read your mind."

You become slightly playful, that glint of mischief in your eyes that I have missed. "Would you deny me my wishes?"

A slightly solemnity strikes your eyes again at your words, but you cover it well. You just keep smiling, and I hopelessly watch the truth slip from your gaze. "You got me," I answer.

Then a sigh passes my lips and I flick my wrist as your present appears in my hands. "I got you a birthday gift." I present it to you.

"Oh, yeah?" You take it, looking over the red wrapping paper with a curious glance. Some of the joy has returned, albeit only a little at the prospect that I was so thoughtful as to get you a gift and make cupcakes.

"Yep," I nod once. "Open it."

You hesitate a moment before your fingernails dig into the wrapping paper and tear it away to reveal a small box. You remove the lid and hold your breath as you stare at the pendent laying inside. It's gold with a dainty chain and a small medallion of my own making. You set it in the palm of your hand and brush your fingers over the front to feel the textures. When you flip it over, I watch you pause to read what is engraved on the back.

"What does it mean?" you ask suddenly, your voice nearly a whisper.

"What does what mean?"

"That thing you keep calling me," you answer, attempting it yourself in a whisper, probably afraid you'll say it wrong.

I smile, chuckling a little to myself at how adorable you are. "Zajačik? It means 'bunny'."

"Oh."

"What did you think it meant?" I wonder as I tilt my head.

You shrug, looking at me again as you carefully pass it to me, turning your back to me and pulling your hair out of the way so that I could fasten it around your neck. My heart swells in my chest, warmed by the thought of you wishing to wear my gift to you.

"I dunno," you say. "That's why I asked."

I clasp the necklace and set it down at the back of your neck, smoothing my hands over your shoulder before setting your hair back into place.

You pick up the necklace and stare at it once more, biting your lip in thought. Then you're speaking again, at first to yourself. "Do you think…"

You stop yourself, but I place my hand on your shoulder and lean closer. "What is it?"

You look at me, still chewing on your bottom lip. "Do you think I could…call my dad today?"

I hesitate a moment, thinking of everything that could go wrong. I should say no. I should tell you that it could risk everything or that you don't need to because you got me—anything to dissuade you from having a chance to leave me.

But the look in your eyes makes me weak and reminds me that I would do anything for you. I sigh and allow myself to smile, reassuring myself that everything would be okay. "Sure," I nod slowly. "Call it another present."

The joy that lights up on your face is worth it.

You smile wide, you even launch yourself forward and wrap your arms around me. I'm surprised at first—you hadn't been so readily affectionate until now—and it should be a sign… but all I can do is hug you back, pull you into my body, and nuzzle my face into your hair at the warmth of your amazing hugs.

I could do this more often.

"Thank you, Wanda," you whisper, oh-so genuine and heartwarming.

I smile. I love you.

"Of course, my beautiful girl," I whisper into your hairline.

You pull away enough to look at me, your eyes big with a silent plea. "Your beautiful…bunny?"

I could cry from how much I adore you. I want to scoop you up into my arms and smother you in kisses.

"Môj krásny zajačik."

~

The call lasts a little longer than I thought it would. Listening in, I can hear your light laugh, your gentle words. You seem to be enjoying yourself.

The rest of the day moves softly, a gentle transition from the bedroom to the library. You're curled against the couch, a pillow and book in your lap as you read your book.

If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio. You'd been reading it over the past few days, and you've been invested since you began. It is part of the new collection of books I'd just brought into the library.

"How's your day going?" I question gently as I walk up to you.

You look up, offering a small smile as you nod. You'd become comfortable recently, adjusting to everything now that you've been here long enough. "It's good," you reply warmly.

I sit next to you. "Are you terribly lonely from the lack of participants?" I chuckle lightly, covering the concern within me that it'll be true.

But you shake your head. "No, I…" you sigh, shrugging a little before looking at me. "I didn't grow up with siblings. My birthday was usually just me and my dad. As I got older, I'd go out with a couple friends, but that was it." You take in a slow breath, "This is…cozy."

My worries are put at ease. "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself."

You close your book, setting it to the side to pull the pillow to your chest, your feet pulled under you. "I've been thinking," you mumble. "You know…way more about me than I know about you."

I laugh to myself, licking my lips. "Well, what do you want to know? I'll tell you anything."

You think for a moment before shrugging. "Do you have siblings?"

My smile falters, and I blink too many times as my frown settles over my lips. The tears sting behind my eyes quicker than I can realize them, but I don't let them fall as I just glance down at my hands.

"I had a brother."

You hesitate for a moment, your curious smile gone as well as you go quiet. "Had?"

I glance at you, but I find it hard to keep your gaze as you stare back at me, bewildered. "He died," I confess, before my expression sours, bitterness nipping at my next words, "or… he was killed."

You swallow hard, holding the pillow closer. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't be," I sigh and look at you again. "His name was Pietro." My voice slips then as I speak his name for the first time in a long time. "He was…" a tiny chuckle rocks through me, and I shake my head, "he was twelve minutes older than me, we were twins."

You turn away for a moment, running a hand along the side of your face and nuzzling your mouth into your palm. When you look back at me, your expression is soft. "When did he die?"

"A few years ago. We got mixed up in the wrong crowd… we got out, but not for long. He was the one who paid the price." I take in another breath, readjusting myself as I clear my throat to keep going, ignoring the ache in my throat and the sting in my eyes. "We were orphaned at ten, so we were all each other had. And he was taken from me, just like our parents."

You wipe your eyes, sniffling gently. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice breaking.

I turn to you, taking your face in my hands. "It's okay," I try to smile, to reassure you. I swipe my thumbs under your eyes to slow your tears. The look in my eyes shifts ever-so-slightly, and you stop breathing for a moment. My voice is slow, hitting every word to ensure you hear what I'm saying. "Because no one will ever be taken from me again."

You're stiff as a board as you stare at me, but you don't fight me, you don't betray any fear, you just watch. "Is that why I'm here?"

I sigh and close my eyes, shaking my head. I lick my lips. "You're here because I love you. And you're mine. And I'm yours," I reassure you. "I will always protect you, my zajačik."

You don't speak. I stare at you, and the anxiety of the alternative to this moment rolls in my chest and captures my throat. I try to swallow the lump away, to be rid of my tears and let us enjoy the rest of this moment, but the tears spill and my lip trembles. I can't keep it away anymore as I set my hands on your shoulders and hold you.

"Please don't leave me."

A hiccup startles my chest as I duck my head. You surprise me. You lean into me and rest your head against my chest, and your arms come to wrap around my waist.

I pull you into me, wrapping you in a hug as I hold you. You allow me to cry into your shoulder, rocking me gently to offer your comfort.

Something in me is put at ease, that writhing feeling often curled in my chest calmed and reduced to a dull churn. A trembling breath passes out of me.

"I love you," I whisper to you.

Your hand rubs my back for a moment and you nod.

"I know."

~

Wanda is gone today, off running some errand. You were watching the news—nothing else was on—and it was really just all things terrible. There was a robbery at the bank, an accident somewhere downtown, an entire building burnt to the ground and a lot of people were hurt, some died.

You turned it off before long.

Then you were walking through the house in search of something to do, and that's when you passed by the room from your first day.

You push the door open, once again met with the shrine painted with your life. You just sit there, looking around at everything around you.

There's so much here you recognize. Your favorite hoodie that you'd lost is neatly folded in a small stack of clothes she'd smuggled. You would put it on, but you don't want to take it from her.

The pictures pinned to the bulletboard are like little memories. Some of them, you couldn't recall the day, date, or relative month. Others, you could pinpoint time of and recall each event that preceded and followed it.

You recognize your dolphin figurine, and you pick it up to see the little note on the bottom reading "demon". When you set it back in place, you notice the delicate fabric it was perched on.

You take it in your hands and quickly realize what it is: a pair of panties, pink with a tiny bow on the front. You should be scared, you should be absolutely freaked out, but you aren't, and you can't be. You smooth the fabric on your hands and a quick thought flashes behind your eyes about "at least this one is clean".

You fold it again and return it to its rightful place. There's so much here, a story of the life you lead that makes you realize just how lonely you really are.

But you were never alone—and you're not alone now.

She was always there. Whether you knew it or not, she was there. She loved you on your way to the library to return a stack of books. She loved you at work, serving rude customers and having shitty days. She loved you on nights when you're left to your own devices with your hands between your legs and your back arched into your pillows.

Every chilling photo, every stolen relic, every folded pair of clothes or underwear is laid out and idolized by this woman. A woman who loves you. A woman who adores you.

She thinks you're beautiful, and you think that's beautiful. She cherishes every good or bad memory, she worships every little breath, every tear, every laugh. She fucking loves you.

And you were ungrateful.

All the crap on the news, everything going wrong, you could have been caught up in that at any moment. You could have been back at the café, hiding behind the counter from some thief trying to rob the shop. You could have been trapped in a burning building or hit in an accident. You could have been hurt, killed at any moment and your left would end right there. No apologies, no warnings, just done.

But you aren't done. You're here, being protected by Wanda, who loves you and wants to keep you safe. All she's wanted to do was keep you safe, prove to you that she loves you, prove that she cares.

And you've just pushed her away.

You fought and you argued that first day. You called her sick, you called her crazy. She fed you, housed you, protected you, assured you that you were loved and wanted. And you tried to push her away, rejecting her by closing yourself off to her love.

How could you do that to her?

She has no one. Her family is gone, she lives in her home alone. She's been so alone for so long, and you are the only thing she cares about now. What kind of person rejects someone like that?

Your chest aches as the realization crashes down on you. Your breath trembles as you shake your head. What kind of person are you to deny her, someone as kind and as caring as her?

But she loves you—she loves you so much—and you need to show her that it isn't for nothing. You need to show her that you're grateful, that you care about her. You need to show her that you won't desert her because she needs you, and you need her.

~

I open the door to our home, immediately stopping as the savory scent of a meal in the air fills my nose. I furrow my brow, my lips tugging in a little grin as I step further into the house. I walk along the tiny hall to the living room, laying eyes on your back through the arch view in the wall displaying the kitchen.

"What's all this?" I ask as I step past the threshold, walking into the kitchen where you're working. You look over your shoulder at me, and your smile is wide, the sparkle in your eyes I have not seen in a while shining at me in a more open display. You really have been holding back from me.

"I wanted to cook for you," you say, stirring the pot for a moment before setting the wooden spoon down and running your hands down my apron on your body. You walk over to me and take my hands, squeezing them gently before leaning forward and touching your cheek to mine. It was so fluid, like we'd had this set in a routine. I do not shy away from it.

"Why?" I chuckle lightly, a little confused by the sudden change, however welcome it is.

"Well," you shrug your shoulders, pulling your hands back to your sides. "You've been cooking so much for me, and I used to be so ungrateful for it…" Your expression shifts, replaced with that same look as before—only, now it seems to hold a little more regret than it had been. Poor thing.

You shake your head, your face unburdening again as you look at me with an apologetic grin. "I wanted to finally return the favor. I've got your favorite." You take a step to the side and motion to the pot of goulash stew, hot and bubbling and absolutely mouthwatering.

My heart warms at the sight as I look back at you. Your smile looks nearly triumphant now at having gained such a reaction from me. "How did you know this was my favorite?" I wonder, reaching forward to grab your hands again.

You smirk mischievously. "You're not the only one who does her research." I can't help my chuckle at that, your light-heartedness rubbing off on me. You let go of me, clapping your hands together to dust them off before shuffling behind me. You press your hands into my shoulder blades, guiding me out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Why don't you sit? I'm almost finished."

I laugh to myself, giddy with my love for you. "Okay."

This is the happiest I've seen you in the weeks that you've been here. I'd been slowly regaining more and more of the old you over the course of our time together, but today was such a huge flip. What's changed?

Was it my opening up to you about my family on your birthday? Was it the gift I'd given you? The phone call to your father?

What could possibly have happened to speed along this process, to make you care so openly for me again?

Whatever it was, I find myself thinking about how happy I am that it happened. To see you smile so much fills my heart, reducing me to a pile of satisfaction.

Finally, I've got my girl back.

~

"I've been thinking," you say suddenly, setting your spoon down. You reach across the table and, taking one of my hands in yours, you graze your thumb over my knuckles as you look at me.

"About?" I inquire, setting my own spoon down to do the same to you. We're connected across the table, and there's far too much space between us, even with our hands joined as they are.

You breathe in slowly, thinking before you answer me. "About you and me–us," you smile, glancing up and down between me and your bowl with a shyness I can't help but fawn over. "I decided, you're right."

Finally.

"About?" I chuckle gently.

"About…" you sigh, "about how good we are together."

"Oh?" My thumb swipes along your knuckles, and you shift your gaze to watch it. You pull your lip between your teeth for just a moment, as if it is something meant to go unnoticed by me.

But it doesn't, because you don't.

"Yeah…" You're looking at me again, though your mind looks like it's lost to something else. I tilt my head to draw your attention again, but you just smile gently as you continue to allow yourself to be distracted by something. A simple glance into your mind, just one little peek and I could see what it is that has your mind so preoccupied. But before I could do such a thing, you're speaking again, so fondly, so gently.

"I…I like when you take care of me. You know just what to say and what to do," you shake your head, struggling to come up with the right words to describe what you're thinking. One glimpse and I could see it all. Just one–

"You're so…good."

Good.

I'm so good.

Now you see, you understand. After all this time, the plotting, planning, waiting—the waiting. After everything, it finally paid off. It was worth it all to see you finally realizing just how perfect we really are, how much better we can be still.

I smile, it's a large smile that makes your own spread along your pretty lips. Oh, my lovely.

"The stew is amazing," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

You breathe gently, clinging to my gratification like cellophane. You glance down at our hands, a poor attempt to hide your beautiful smile. "Thank you."

I reach out and brush my finger under your chin, tilting your head up. You gaze into my eyes, your own sparkling with the adoration I had been dreaming of seeing reflected into my eyes.

"And so are you," I promise, brushing my knuckles up to the apple of your cheek, which darkens under my touch as you try to hide the blush that has spread over your skin.

~

That isn't to say I do not still have my doubts.

A couple of days have passed by us since you confessed how much you enjoy my presence in your life, and things have shifted (for the better). We spend a lot of time together, mostly in the library, even if not to read. Sometimes it’s like a game of Hide and Seek, where you rush around the shelves and I come after you like some predator out for blood. Other times, it’s just you and I on a sofa together with a book in our laps as we read silently, letting the time tick by. You sit a little closer, a little more relaxed. You’re far more at ease than you’d ever been since you arrived.

But sometimes…it feels like it was too easy.

Were you actually happy here, or were you playing along to make the passage of time a little easier? I want to believe you want this just as much as I do, but it’s hard to put my worries to rest when I look at you and see a woman meant to stay in my dreams. I feel like there’s the slightest possibility that, maybe, I’m messing with a fate that even I should not try to reckon with.

I just want you to be happy—and I want to be happy. Don’t I deserve happiness? After everything I’ve lost, don’t I deserve to have something so precious to me that I can keep, forever? What is so wrong about that?

But I do not want to keep a bird caged if she longs for the skies. How would I be able to live with myself if I destroyed your life for the sake of my own?

“Do you like it here?” The question is blurted over the silence of the library as I stand between two tall shelves. You look up suddenly from the sofa, tilting your head as you tear your focus away from your book.

“Hm?” you mumble.

I clear my throat in an attempt to gather myself, bringing my hands together to twiddle my fingers to try and ease the nerves playing in the back of my brain and clawing its way to the surface. “Do you like being here?”

“I…” you hesitate at first, and I hold my breath. You close the pages and set it aside to give me your full attention, furrowing your brow to think. You speak slowly to clearly articulate your words, “I didn’t at first. I felt trapped.” My heart aches, and I want to drop to my knees and cry. But then you look at me with those wide eyes, pupils blown with adoration and care. “But now…” you smile delicately, “now I don’t know if I could leave.” You shake your head, rephrasing your words to more accurately state, “I don’t know if I could leave you.”

I was so close to shattering, and with a few words, you’re holding together the pieces again. “Really? Because…” I clear my throat, “if you wanted to…to go—if you still want to go, I’ll let you.” I have to force the words out in a rush, lest they never see the light of day. I don’t want you to go, I don’t want you to leave me here all by myself, but I can’t trap you more than I already have.

You stare at me for a long time, and I watch the layers peel back into something so small and vulnerable. “I can’t leave you,” you whisper, your voice breaking with another confession. You shake your head, slowly standing to your feet to be closer to me. You speak so quickly, just as nerve-wrecked as me now. “You take such good care of me. You’re so kind and–and gentle. You’ve never done anything to actually hurt me. You keep me safe and…and you love me.” Tears begin to gather in your eyes, and I want to take you in my arms and hold you. Don’t cry, darling.

You shake your head and sniffle, “I’ve never had anyone love me the way you do. You helped me see. I need that—I need you.” Your lip curls and trembles, and you move closer to me as the tears fall. You reach forward and take my hand. Unexpectedly, you fall to your knees and bow your head to me as though I am royalty, keeping my hand in a desperate hold. “Please don’t make me leave.”

I melt and I fall to my knees, joining you on the floor as I set my hands on your face, lifting you to see mine again as I gaze into your tear-filled eyes. My eyes are just as wet as yours, though the tears had not fallen until now as I smile through it all. “I would never make you do anything,” I promise, shaking my head and swallowing hard. “Especially not that.”

You drop your head onto my shoulder, nuzzling into my neck in search of comfort as you smile and reassure yourself with my words. Your hands hold onto me as I keep you close. And then you’re whispering in my ear, “Can you say it again?”

“Say what?” I ask, rocking the both of us gently as the tears slow and the swells in our hearts grow.

“That you…” you sniffle, “that you love me?”

I smile wide, wiping my face. “Môj krásny zajačik,” I rasp into your ear. “I love you. I love you. I love you so much, you have no idea what limits I’d go to prove that to you.”

Your breath catches as you struggle to control yourself, another round of sobs forcing its way from your body as you pull me closer. “I love you more than the earth. I love you more than all the life on it. I love you more than the very air we breathe. I would sacrifice everything for you.”

“I love you, too.”

I pause, stilling completely as your words wash over me like scorching water. “What?” I whisper breathlessly.

You pull away from me just enough to take my face in your own hands. Your face is tear-stained, but you smile at me like I am the universe. “I love you, too,” I confess again, stroking your thumbs over the apple of my cheeks. “I’m so sorry it took so long for me to see.”

Our foreheads press together for a long moment as we enjoy each other’s closeness. You shudder and I hear a tiny hiccup. “It’s okay—hey, it’s okay. It’s you and me,” I whisper, stroking my hand through your hair and soothing you with shushes and promises and little rubs of my hand along your back. I smile, making you look at my face to show that there is no lie in what I’m about to tell you.

“We’ll never be alone again.”

You stare at me, a slow grin beginning to spread over your lips as you take my words to heart. My perfect, special, darling little zajačik. I wipe your tears away and bring the both of us to stand. I kiss your forehead. My lips tingle with the contact of your skin, and I wonder if you can feel it, too.

“Come,” I bid softly. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

~

You look so peaceful.

The moonlight shining down on your face casts you in a gentle gleam that makes you look like a mythical creature.

Perhaps you are a siren: meant to lure me with your sweet song, only to drag me down, down, down to the deepest depths of the ocean where I would breathe my last breath and make you the last thing I see before death took me.

Or perhaps you are an angel: beautiful and powerful but capable of merciless blows that I could never withstand, yearning to redeem my soul but more than willing to damn it to Hell instead.

Whichever you are, you're enchanting.

Standing at the end of the bed, I watch as you rest. There's no worry in your face, no fear or shame, nor care or desire. Just…peaceful. Your breaths are slow and paced, allowing your chest to rise and fall in a steady motion. There's no other sound that comes from you, and no other sound outside of this room to disturb that.

Until that changes with the tiniest hum.

I tilt my head as I watch, listening closely for the next little whimper to escape from your lips as you shift in the covers, your limbs tangled in the sheets and spreading you wide. It's like you're begging for me to do something to you, to take you where you lie and claim you as mine forever.

Just one glimpse into your mind, and I would see everything. I would see what you're dreaming about to make you react in such a way. I could see–

Me.

My body and yours, grinding and moaning and begging for the other's touch. It's passion and lust, blood and sweat, whispers and screams.

I gasp as my mind retreats from your own, and I'm hot all over just recalling what your filthy mind has drawn up.

If you wanted me so badly, all you had to do was ask.

You are already spread wide for me, so all I have to do is crawl into bed, my body towering over yours. I brush some hair off your forehead, tucking it behind your ear as I lean down and nuzzle my face into your neck. I inhale your scent, sweet and light, intoxicating.

Your breath hitches when my knee rises up to meet the dip of your thighs, pressing into your heat. My hand smooths down your side before dipping under your shirt and grazing the bare skin there. I tiny whimper slips through your lips, and I moan with you. Your soft skin under my touch is maddening.

I take the skin of your neck between my lips, kissing you, touching you, embedding my love into your flesh. My lips trace you all the way down until I reach your cute little shorts, pinching the waistband between my fingers and pulling them down your legs slowly, careful not to disturb your slumber.

I stare at your panties, my fingers whispering at the band of the fabric. I dip down, closing my eyes as my lips brush against you. Again, I take a deep breath and your scent swirls around my senses and makes me weak. My tongue darts out and licks a long strip up your clothed pussy, tasting your sweetness firsthand.

A moan hums out of me again as my lashes flutter, before I'm pulling your panties off and ravaging you. You're hot and sweet and a taste that coats my tongue in love. You writhe beneath me, moaning and grinding your hips to seek me out.

I grasp your hips to keep you still, dipping my tongue into your hole, pressing the tip of it into your clit. Your breaths become faster, louder, until your whimpers are desperate moans.

When the sounds stop and your body stills, I look up at you to see what has changed. You stare back at me, your eyes wide and your face flushed. "Wanda?" you breathe.

I suck on your clit and your body kickstarts. Your shock and confusion is overwhelmed by the pleasure I send rushing through you. You try to stifle a moan as you grip at the sheets, but that just won't do. I wrap my arms around your thighs as they set over my shoulders. They push toward you when I reach up to your chest, my hands sliding under your shirt to feel your bare breasts as I squeeze them.

You gasp, your thighs tightening around me. "That's it," I whisper into you. "That's it, baby, let it out for me." A louder moan rises out of you, unrestricted by closed lips as your hands fly to my hair and pull.

"Wanda," you squeak. "Wanda, yes, I'm gonna cum!"

I moan into you, feeding off your pleasure as it rises within you. "Go ahead. Cum for me. Let it out for me."

Your body seizes and your jaw clenches as you curl into me. I take your hands, intertwining our fingers as you cum hard right onto my tongue as I suck and lick at your clit.

You curse loudly, holding tighter. "Wanda, fuck! Mmph, yes."

You grind against my face until you come down, easing from your high as you fall limp against the sheets. But I don't stop. My hands find your hole, pushing inside and feeling your heat around my fingers. You bite your lip hard, clenching down on me and letting out a strained whimper.

I give you no time to adjust, already chasing your next high as I pump my fingers in and out of you, creating a steady rhythm that has you bucking your hips into my hand. "That's it, baby," I coo. "Ride yourself on my hand."

You begin to chant my name alongside breathy moans as your pussy flutters around me. I curl my fingers in a come hither motion, pulling your hips further before pumping then faster. Your moans pick up, louder and higher. "I'm gonna cum, Wanda! You're gonna make me cum!" you exclaim, gripping the sheets so hard I hear a rip.

The tip of my tongue flicks your clit. "Already? Do I make you feel so good, my bunny?" I lick my lips, squeezing your upper thigh as my nails dig into your flesh.

You're a mess as you nod, forcing yourself to look at me. "Yes. Fuck, yes, make me feel so good."

A shudder rushes through my spine and a wicked smile spreads across my lips. I don't stop, even when I move up to loom over your body. My face is inches from yours, and you stare at me with wide, wet eyes. "If you want to cum this time," I whisper, "you're going to have to beg me for it."

You mewl, raising your hand to touch my side, eager to pull me closer. "Please, Wanda," you say quietly, barely a whisper as your shyness sinks into your skin.

But that just won't do.

"You can do better than that," I bid, grazing my lips along the shell of your ear. "Tell me how much you want it, and I'll give it to you."

You move your hand from my waist to my neck, slinging your arm around me to pull me closer. "Please, Wanda, can I cum?" you sigh breathlessly. "I need it so bad, please."

I hum, curling my fingers deep inside you. You whimper, tilting your head up. "I love it when you moan my name, zajačik."

I flick my wrist, and you gasp as I shower you in a mist of my magic. I circle my thumb on your clit, fast and rough as I attune quickly to your body. Your body writhes, legs twitching and fingers flexing. It's not long before you're squeezing my fingers, cumming hard with another desperate moan of my name.

Again, I don't stop, not for a moment. You moan and gasp through your release, you scream my name and grind on my hand, your hold onto me as you ride your high. I pump my fingers in and out, curling and spreading and stroking your pussy as my magic plays with your little clit, keeping you worked up to give you the pleasure you deserve.

You whine and you whine and you whine, and you don't stop as the pleasure keeps building. With my insistence, you don't get a chance to come down. Not when I make you cum a third time, or a fourth, or a fifth as tears build in your eyes and slip down your pretty cheeks, choked sobs tearing your throat with how good you feel—how good I make you feel.

"Wanda," you gasp. "I can't—I can't take it. 'S too much, I can't."

I flick my wrist again and increase your pleasure, pulling another choppy heave from your throat. "D'you want me to stop?" I question, my own breath much quicker as I watch you come undone over and over again. You've made a mess of me, and I haven't even been touched yet. My hips brush against your leg, eager for some sort of friction as I clench around nothing and my clit throbs, in need of attention.

You don't answer me, too busy with the intoxicating pleasure blinding you. I bend down to your ear, taking the soft lobe between my teeth. "Do you want me to stop?" My voice is rough in your ear, and it sends a tremble down your spine.

You finally answer me, shaking your head and fluttering around my fingers still shoved deep within you. "No," you whimper. "Please, don't stop."

I smile wickedly. "Good girl."

But, either way, I do stop. You mewl, your hands flying to your face to wipe the sweat and tears from your skin. I pull your hands away, cupping your chin with my crooked fingers to make you look at me.

I stroke your cheek. "You're so precious crying for me like this," I breathe, pressing my lips to your cheek. "Fuck, you look so perfect crying for me, my little bunny."

Your hands fly to my face, pulling me over so our foreheads touch as you stare at my lips. "Please kiss me, Wanda," you mumble, caressing the corner of my lips with your fingers.

I don't waste anymore time. I dip down and press my lips against yours in a rough kiss, finally tasting you properly after waiting for so long. You taste perfect. Like love and passion, all sweetness like honey and sugar. I'm quickly drunk on you, rejecting breath in favor of kissing you. I moan into your mouth, and you pull me closer, biting my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, which paints your lips red.

When I pull away from you, I'm messy and breathless, already aching to have more of you. "Fuck, I'm gonna make you feel so good, my little fuck bunny," I promise, a little whine to my voice.

I force myself to pull away from you, reaching under the bed to pull out a little box kept nice and safe there. I open it and pull out the little red toy you'd bought yourself, back before you were truly mine. It feels so long ago now.

I show it to you, take it between my hands, stroke it, make you blush adorably. "I saved it," I smile. Your breath hitches when I regain my place over you, one hand brushing your dripping cunt again to coat my fingers. I place my fingers in your mouth, pushing down on your tongue to make you suck on them. Your eyes flutter, tiny moans slipping past your lips, which have been wet and messy.

"I also made a little improvement," I breathe, flicking my wrist again. You watch the red tendrils of magic summon the strap-on I'd created just for us. Your eyes widen and you stop suckling on my fingers. Pushing down again on your tongue, you get back to work as you flush a darker red. The squelching of your tongue as I push my fingers back even further makes a dirty sound that has me moaning a little more.

You reach up to grab my wrist, keeping me where I am. Little indents of your nails in my flesh begin to dig in, and I smile at the sight. "Would you like me to use it?" I whisper into your ear. "Just nod for me." You nod your head, all too eager to be satisfied by me. "Good girl."

I toy with the hem of your shirt before I remove it from your body, finally leaving you bare to me. You're too distracted to be shy, otherwise I know you would try to shield yourself from me. I pull away from you, standing in front of the bed as I begin to strip myself of the constricting fabric still wrapped around my own body. They fall in a puddle to the floor, piece by piece, until I'm just as bare as you.

You stare at me, body limp and fucked out but not nearly fucked enough to deny the growing lust rising within you at the anticipation of the pleasure to come. The strap fits perfectly as I put it on, and you watch every move I make to do it.

I take hold of your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed as I wrap your legs around me. I bend over you, our faces hovering between one another with an intimacy unmatched by anything I'd ever experienced before.

"Are you ready, my little fuck bunny?" I rasp into your ear, my lips ghosting over your cheek. You nod, raising your arms to wrap around my neck.

I raise my hand next to your cheek, and you marvel at the way my fingers twirl around my red enchantment. Your breath hitches when it disappears. "What did you do?" you whisper.

I don't answer your question. Instead, I line the strap with your glistening cunt and push it through your folds, slowly filling your sweet little hole with the toy. Your head falls back and your eyes flutter shut as you feel the stretch of my cock inside of you.

My breath shudders as I push fully inside you, feeling the tightness of your cunt through the enchantment of my spell. You clench around me, losing your breath to take a moment to adjust. But I don't give you long.

Before you have time to get used to the size filling you up, I'm pulling out again to the very tip, forcing myself back into you with a guttural moan tearing from my throat. "Fuck," my voice is rough from the lust welling inside us. "Are you always so fucking tight, honey?"

You don't reply, preoccupied with your nails digging into my back. I don't mind—I crave it, want to feel your love tearing into my skin.

I chuckle a little, thrusting roughly into you again to pull another whimper from your preciously pathetic little throat. I shake my head, taking in a breath through my teeth as I stare at your face, screwed up in pleasure. "Of course you are. There's no one else to stretch you out. Perfect for me."

A whine draws from you and I can't help the bubbling giggle in my throat. "Wanda," you breathe. "Fuck, so big." You hum, biting your bottom lip as I push back inside again. "Please, please, Wanda. I need you," you mewl, holding me tighter.

"'Please, Wanda. I need you,'" I mock, pitching my voice and whining back at you with a little frown on my lips. You pull me in tighter, despite my taunting. "Look at you. Such a pathetic little whore for me, right, bunny?"

You nod, a meek little thing begging me to go faster. "Yes!" you breathe. "All for you."

I take one of my hands around your throat, holding you there as my teeth graze the skin of your collarbone. "You want more of me, pretty girl?"

You nod woefully, grinding your hips against me. "Yes, yes, yes," you whisper in a little chant made of a desperate plea.

I don't make you wait any longer. Gripping the headboard with one hand, I steady myself before I'm moving again. A shriek erupts from you when my hips snap into your own, shoving the cock inside of your tight pussy in an unrelenting rhythm.

Quick and hard, I build the pleasure within you as I thrust and thrust and thrust. I'm breathless as the shockwaves tingle at the bottom of my spine and work their way to the top while my hand tightly grips the wood of the headboard.

A growl seizes my throat when your nails in my back dig deeper, raking down to leave angry red scratches to cover the expanse of skin.

You're sobbing my name, the pleasure becoming too much for you as you break down into a mess of cries. You claw and scream and clench, pleading and erratic. It's empowering to watch you beg for me, to see you so small and aching for what I—and only I—can give to you.

Oh, my darling girl. I love you so much. I love it when you smile. I love it when you laugh. I love when you scream my name, when you sob the words out in a barely coherent plea for more. I love watching you mewl like a desperate little whore, squirming like a pathetic slut for me and my hands and my cock.

"Do you know how long I waited for you?" I husk, leaning down a little so your face is closer. I move my hand from your throat to your face, gripping your cheeks and puckering your lips. "Do you know how many nights I spent touching myself to the thought of you—watching you touch yourself in your little bed with your little fingers? I fucking needed you, baby." A rough thrust inside of you has me crumbling for a moment, burying my face in the crook of your neck with a short whimper in your ear. "Fuck, I knew you felt me. Those nights while you touched yourself, I knew you could feel me there, watching you, protecting you. Couldn't you?"

You can barely think about it the way you want to. Lost in the pleasure, you agree with everything I say as you rake a new trail down my back. "I knew you could," I rasp a laugh. "But now I fucking have you. You're fucking mine. I'm never letting you go."

Another round of sobs escapes you at my declaration. "Never let me go," you cry, begging me. "Please don't let me go."

I can feel the sparks of my release bursting within me and I know you're close, too. Reaching down to your little clit, I circle my thumb around it, a steady rhythm that instantly has your moans climbing higher.

"You want to cum, bunny? You needa cum for me?" You nod your head, tears streaming down your cheeks again. I bend down to kiss them away, drunk on the taste of them, the taste of you as I whisper into your ear. "Go on then. Cum for me, honey. Let it all out for me." I slam my hips into yours, the wet squelching of the impact continuing to echo in the room and fill the pit of my lust.

You throw your head back and scream, rooting your nails once more at my shoulder blades and clawing angry red lines so deep that blood begins to dribble from the scratches. It's too much for me to hold on any longer and I let go of the headboard in favor of wrapping my arms around you and pulling you into my chest, my hips grinding as far as I can go inside of you with a shuddering moan, a thick whimper just as pathetic as your own.

"Yeah, baby, fucking squeeze my cock. Milk me, bunny, take it all," I ramble through my release as I fill you up full of my hot, sticky love for you and what you do to me.

My thrusts slow until they're tiny ruts inside of you meant to draw out the last sparks of pleasure. You're whispering my name under your breath, small and repetitive, a tiny little chant that keeps you reminded of me.

I release the longer, trembling breath that had been pent up within me as I finally pull out of you. The strap disappears in the same stroke, and I grab the headboard again to hold myself up so I do not collapse on top of you.

I stare at your pretty face, coated in sweat and tears, still teased with the little pained expression painted on by your pleasure. Your lips are still forming my name, mouthing the word as you daze in and out of consciousness, your eyes nearly closed and blurry.

I place my hand on your cheek, bending down to you to kiss your precious lips and silence your whispers. I kiss you long and slow, completely different from the urgent, hungry kiss I'd devoured you with before. It brings you back to reality, gently pulls you back down to the ground after you were left floating in the clouds of sweet bliss.

When I pull away, your eyes are still closed and your breath is still unsteady. I shift to lay back down, hissing lightly at the stings of your claws in my back. Seeking my comfort, you move to lay your head on my chest and let me trace circles into your shoulders, along your collarbone. Your legs entwine with mine, and I can feel some of the wetness from your pussy of our mixed releases smear of my thigh.

Now you're mine. Forever claimed by my cum inside of you. No one else can have you.

We lay there in silence for a while. I thought you were asleep until you whispered in the faintest breath, "I'm sorry about your back."

I look down at you, smiling as I shake my head. "Don't be. Just means I'm yours forever."

You smile fondly at my response, "And I'm yours." I pull you closer.

You close your eyes to finally succumb to sleep, but it seems something has been eating away at your conscience, sticking to your brain like honey on your fingers.

"Was there someone else before me?" you whisper your eager question.

Where did this come from? The smallest flare of pain and nostalgia rises within me as I'm forced to think about such a time. I sigh gently, pulling you closer in an attempt at comforting myself. It takes me a moment to respond, uneasiness licking at my insides. "Yes."

You nod gently to yourself. "Who was she?"

I chuckle lightly before shrugging. "He was…everything to me." I sigh, staring at the ceiling through the dark space around us as I think. "We were going to have a life together."

You reach across my body and hold my side, stroking my bare skin with your thumb. You're trying to comfort me, make me feel better with the reminder of your presence. My heart swells. "What happened?" you whisper, your voice sticky with sleep.

I shrug once more. "What always happens… He was taken from me."

When you speak again, you're barely audible as the tiny mumble leaves you. "'M sorry, sweetheart."

Sweetheart. My perfect girl.

I shake my head gently. "Don't be sorry. It's okay." I glance down at you. "Do you know why?"

You peer up at me, a tiny smile on your sluggish face as your hazy gaze meets mine. "...Me?"

I smile wide and nod, reaching down to grab your chin as I pull you in another slow kiss. I hum into your mouth, stroking your cheek.

"Yes. You." I cup your cheek. "You are my everything now. And I am never letting you go." I pull you closer. "Ever."

You lick your lips. "Promise?"

I nod, "Promise."

You reach up to grab the back of my neck so you can kiss me again. Your lips are tired but insistent. "I love you, Wanda," you vow, pressing our foreheads together.

I feel a tear wet my cheek as my love for you wells up. I don't bother with wiping it away. "I love you, too, my zajačik."

~

Your hand is wrapped tightly in mine as we walk into the retail store you told me you wanted to go to. It had been weeks since you stepped out of the house, and you're still adjusting to seeing so many people around again as we step inside. You walk closely next to me, never once straying too far and pulling me with you whenever you are changing course too suddenly.

Bouncing from rack to rack, you pull clothes out and put some back, holding them up to yours and my body to get a visual of the style. You huff as you hold two hangers in your grip, trying to weigh the pros and cons as you struggle to choose.

You whine, "I want to get this jacket because it has deeper pockets, but I also want this jacket because of the zipper." You hold up both jackets: one is two sizes bigger than your own and would sag adorably off your shoulders (another reason you want it), the other is a biker jacket that can switch styles depending on how you choose to wear it.

"Get both," I shrug.

You drop your arms and make a pouting face. "I don't want to get both because it would be really expensive."

I laugh lightly, shrugging indifferently to your dilemma. "Get whatever you want. I will pay for it."

You sigh but still refuse to relent. "I'll get this one." You set the biker jacket on the handbasket on my arm, turning to put the other away.

"Then I will get this one." I grab it before you can put it up, adding it to the basket with a smile. You begin to argue before shaking your head, letting me do what I want.

"You spoil me," you mumble under your breath, failing at hiding your grin.

I chuckle, "I'm allowed to spoil you."

You shame your head again and look away to find something else. Your attention is violently gripped by a poster somewhere in the store advertising a sale. You take my hand and pull me behind you, bringing me to the undergarment section of the store.

"Mine keep disappearing," you comment, glancing slyly at me as I look away and pretend I don't see the look on your face.

You start picking through the folded pile of underwear with different colors and styles and sizes. I just watch you, lost in the way your face scrunches when you focus on something, the way your pretty eyes zero in to figure out what you want.

You notice me after a moment, glancing over my way before taking a double take as your eyes glue to mine. You chuckle, setting your options down again. "What?"

I don't move, humming as I keep looking over your face.

"Why are you smiling at me like that?" you ask, moving to take my hands to give yourself something to do as you stroke the backs of them fondly.

I shrug my shoulders. "You look so happy. I can't help it."

You breathe a laugh, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on my lips. "I'm happy when I'm with you," you confess lightly.

I raise a brow, leaning forward so you can hear my whisper. "You sure it's not because you're finally out of the house after being locked up for the past few weeks?"

You snort, "I would never leave that house again if it meant I got to keep you all to myself." You set your crooked finger under my chin, a quick tap, "You've got nothing to worry about, sweetheart."

Such a sweet little thing.

You move to step away from me, but my hands grip you a little tighter. "Wait, don't pull away… Not yet."

You step closer to me again, lingering there as I stroke the backs of your hands. I take in a deep breath, "I'm glad you're here."

You smile, wrapping your arms around my neck to pull me into a tight hug, my own arms falling to your waist. You kiss my cheek as you hold me for a little while longer.

"I'm glad you know I needed you."

You pull away as I chuckle, squeezing my hands before turning back to the piles in front of you and grabbing five pairs to put in the basket. "I saw some really nice dresses over here. We could get some and go get ice cream after?"

I smile fondly, finding your side and wrapping an arm around your waist. "Whatever you want, my zajačik."

You shudder at my name for you, leaning into my side for a moment before walking again.

There is no way I could ever let you go, my zajačik. I fought so hard to get you and now, here we are, walking around the store with our hands intertwined, smiling and laughing and enjoying the other's presence with an affection that warms my heart enough to light a fire.

I love you so much. I will always love you, my sweet girl.

And I will never let you go.

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