|| 𝐴𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑡.ᐟ𝑇𝑎𝑚𝑠𝑦 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑡 ||
fluff || obsessive love || artist x muse || normal world au || 1.7k words
Tamsy always saw you as more than just a lover; you were his muse. You were unique and fascinating in your own way, which was exactly what kept him interested. Whether it was when you burst into laughter, bawled your eyes out, or squirmed beneath his hold, you never failed to captivate him. You were present in his paintings, living in his sculptures, hanging on his walls, and abiding a little bit everywhere on top of his furniture.
Being his everything, you obviously had to be everywhere.
Unlike what most of your acquaintances thought, you didn't see it all just as an expression of his obsession. Sure, you did feel disrobed under those meticulous eyes of his, but more importantly, you felt cherished.
Perhaps your friends happened to be right, and you needed to take a step back. However, finding another man who could bathe you with the same amount of adoration was nearly impossible; there was none like him.
Tamsy entered your life and filled a hole you had never considered. Leaving him meant leaving the only man who treated you with as much care as a butcher with his most-liked knife, and that wasn’t something you wanted.
You knocked twice at the door before stepping in.
To your surprise, the interior was cleaner than the previous time you came. Contrary to his neat appearance, Tamsy was one of the messiest people you knew once he began to create. In normal circumstances, you’d enter to see smeared walls and scattered brushes on the floor, but that time, almost nothing.
You then glanced at the darkened sink and smiled. Of course, that remained the same.
Noise rose behind his workshop’s door.
Tamsy didn’t step forward to take you in his arms, since he was still in his working attire: a loose, long-sleeved shirt and slack pants. It had taken days for you to convince your lover to choose an outfit he could wear when crafting. Before you did, he liked picking his clothes haphazardly, which eventually led to ruining each one of them.
His attention was drawn towards the bag in your hands. “What's in there?”
“Have you eaten yet?” you replied, setting it on the counter.
You didn’t wait for an answer to take out the food containers. If making a mess and ruining his clothes weren’t enough, Tamsy also had the bad habit of skipping meals when he worked on a project. For him, one hour could turn into five, as it could turn into ten.
Behind that apprehensible reason, he also enjoyed having you pay him a visit at frequent intervals. Every time you scolded him, made worried comments about his health, and forced him to take a break only made him want to sink deeper into his lame pattern.
“You didn't need to bring all that,” he said with a smile. “Getting in trouble by my fault is the last thing I would wish for you, you know that.”
His hand found yours, then gently lifted it to his lips. You didn’t let him go any further and chased him to go clean himself up first.
When he left, you suddenly became unable to stay still, so you took the opportunity to set the table. You worked covered with the sunset’s rays slipping between the sheer curtains, shoulders slightly tensed for a reason you ignored.
Tamsy came back to see you filling the place with soft hums while going over one of his books. You were too far gone in your reading to notice his staring, and that was for his better. The man stood there, bewitched by the sight.
The person he loved, the person he dedicated most of his art to. There you were, on his couch, just like you always belonged there—just like you always belonged to him.
He frowned at the thought. You didn’t belong to him, and you never would. Considering you as a potential possession felt like removing something from you. He didn’t understand why, and didn’t try to. Tamsy wanted you to be his, but not if that meant he would have to steal.
A couple of minutes passed, and he finally joined you to get his hair dried.
He took place next to you on the couch, so you stood to head behind him. As usual, it took longer than you expected. You braided and unbraided, parted, brushed it with your fingers, and tried multiple silly hairstyles. During that time, your sweetheart stood still, eyes closed.
The following moments went on calmly. You had dinner together, where Tamsy listened to you jabbering about your day, then you moved to the kitchen to do the dishes, where it was his turn to ramble.
Around nine in the evening, you made your way to the door, ready to head back home. Due to your parents’ severity and strange need to marry you to a “real” man—which was far from the status of an artist—you couldn’t make your relationship official.
So, every day you visited him, you were compelled to leave in order to not raise anyone’s suspicions. That was an agreement you both came to accept.
However, that day, Tamsy didn’t let you go once he kissed you goodbye. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders just as you were about to cross the entrance, forcing you to halt.
“Stay for the night.” He spoke while being buried in the crook of your neck, which tickled you.
His quiet plea was like a trap closing itself around your foot. Tamsy knew how to get to you—he was doing that at the very moment.
“I thought that you didn’t want me to get in trouble.”
His grasp just tightened, letting you know that he wasn’t about to give up any sooner and making your thoughts go hazy.
What if you did stay? What was the worst thing that could happen? All you had to do was to come up with an excuse clever enough to fool your folks.
Guilt and doubt kept battling in your head while you stood still. Lying wasn’t something you adored, but the one who stood behind you kept making you trip in your thoughts.
That was enough to ultimately make you fall for his guile. With a sigh, you detached Tamsy’s coiled arms from you and pivoted on your heels. A lighthearted grin took over his face, just like he knew that you'd pick that option either way.
His hand reached to brush something on your cheek. “An eyelash.”
The simple act made your chest tighten. When you faced him, he felt awfully too close for your own good. You wished to stack all your shame in, knowing that it downright pleased him, but his touch lingered. His fingers moved from your cheek to the back of your ear, then to your chin.
Without uttering a single word, he leaned closer, to which you answered by closing your eyes and waiting.
You waited. And waited. And waited.
When you opened your eyes, his face was hovering a few inches away from you with a broad smile. “Waiting for something?”
You pushed him away, feeling your ears turn impossibly hot. “God, I hate you.”
Seeing that you were heading for the door handle out of embarrassment, Tamsy took hold of your hand and flipped you around. “Come on, don't be like that.”
You didn't get the opportunity to talk back before he closed the gap between the two of you. The kiss was slow and tender, just like he was apologizing for the past teasing (although that didn’t guarantee that he regretted any part of it).
Even though you had already gone further with him, mundane things such as the feeling of his lips on yours, his smell, or the sound of his breath filling the room never failed to make your heart thunder. That was the reality you had no other choice but to endure while being with Tamsy Caines.
The look you were given once he pulled away forced your stomach to drop. A gaze filled with hunger you were uncertain of being able to satiate. One filled with the hunger of a man who would consume every single bit and drop of you if he could.
You almost wished to step back.
Behind all your feelings lingered a tiny, microscopic ball of fear. ’What if he ended up taking too much?’ it repeated. ‘What if you were stepping onto a path of no return? Then what?’
You caressed Tamsy’s face with a shaky hand, and during a mere instant, you could swear you noticed his pupils dilate. The sight of him leaning into your touch melted you, sweeping away part of the piling pieces of negative thoughts.
“Seriously, what is wrong with you?” you asked, but a smile made its way to your lips.
For months, you kept searching for the key of the solution to cure the growing discomfort in you, but the answer was right in front of you. Tall, blonde, pretty lashes, tan eyes, a honeyed voice, and a chin piercing you were madly in love with.
All you needed to do was to let yourself be in his arms. Allow yourself to be his, without any restraint.
Even if it was just for that night.
For Tamsy, the night couldn't have taken a better route. You moved to his bedroom, where he made sure to devote all of his attention to you, his lover. He showed regard to the way your spine curved, the sound of his name leaving your lips, how your breath hitched every time his fingers met your skin.
And most importantly, the heartfelt laugh you gave him following small awkward moments. That drove him insane and only renewed his desire to please you.
No matter from what angle he looked from, you remained a sight for sore eyes.
You were staring at the ceiling when Tamsy flipped onto his belly. With a grin plastered on his face, he let his fingers walk on your bare skin.
It had been a few minutes since you two were dwelling in the room’s silence. Slumber was chasing you by leaps and bounds, but you persisted to stay awake, determined to speak up one last time.
He dropped closer to you and let his arm rest on you, beneath the covers.
An eater, I need her. ❞ ﹒ ノ
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